Before Riggs and Xavier leave, I thank them for their help, then make them swear not to say a word to Jesse about any of it.
“I can’t do that, Joss,” Riggs says. “I can’t keep something like this from him.”
I clamp my eyes shut. “This is going to be a shitstorm, Riggs. I don’t want Jesse involved. I can’t deal with all of this and him too.”
I watch as Riggs and Xavier exchange a glance.
“I know your loyalty is to him,” I say with a defeated sigh. “I know I’m asking a lot. But this isn’t his problem, and you know he will treat it like it is.”
I want to throw up when those words leave my mouth. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Jesse would drop everything—med school, his future—to come back here and check on me. I want that. I want it so badly. And that’s exactly why I can’t let it happen.
He cannot lose his future because I’ve messed up mine.
“I won’t offer the information,” Riggs says finally. “But if he asks about you...”
“Okay.” I nod. If that’s the best he can do, I’ll take it. “Thank you. Both of you. Thank you so much for what you did tonight.”
Xavier pulls me in for a hug and a few tears fall from my eyes. I don’t want to think of how differently tonight could have gone if they hadn’t intervened. They were here a full seven minutes before the police showed up. That seven minutes could have cost me my life.
Riggs gives me a hug, then says goodbye to June and Jude, who are huddled together on the couch under a blanket. I’m worried how they’re going to process this. Will they have nightmares? Will they struggle with this night for years? Should I look into getting them a therapist?
“I’ll have somebody come over first thing in the morning to fix the door,” Riggs tells me. First thing in the morning is just a couple hours away. He puts a big hand on my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay. You’ll get through this.”
When the guys leave, and it’s just me and the kids once more, I pad my way to the couch, climb under the blanket, and curl up next to them. I hold them close, and we turn on a movie. Something light and fluffy with catchy sing-along songs and corny jokes. We don’t move from the couch all day. I order pizza. We eat ice cream. We don’t talk about what happened.
I will. I will talk to them about it tomorrow.
But right now, we just need peace.
* * *
There’sa knock on our new door.
When I open it, Bailey and Ivy are grinning at me from the stoop.
“Hey,” I say, smiling but confused. Ivy beams. Bailey smirks. It’s fitting. “What’s up?”
“Welllll,” Ivy says, then holds up two reusable Target bags. “I know you’ve got today off, and the kids are at the YWCA program. We thought maybe you’d want to take a break from studying and hang out with us.”
I cock my head to the side. I’ve been talking more to Ivy lately since Christina Pierce took my case. Usually the occasional text, sometimes a phone call. She’s come by to check on me twice since Patrick was arrested, but her and Bailey showing up at my door with goodie bags is new. I don’t hate it.
“Sure?” I step to the side and let them in the house.
“She’s leaving for Chicago soon and I’m staying behind,” Bailey states as we head to the kitchen. “Figured it was only right that we get a few hang outs in together before it’s just you and me.”
I blink at her. Her and me?
“Oh, should we invite Rox?” Ivy chimes in, and I nod. Why the heck not?
“Tell her to bring her cards. Maybe we can play something.”
Ivy sends a quick text.
“She said she’s on her way,” she announces, then starts unpacking the stuff in her Target bags. Crackers, cheese, fruit.
“Charcuterie?” I ask, and Ivy hums and gives her shoulders a little shimmy in response.
I get excited, and then remember I don’t have the buffer of Jesse anymore, and immediately feel anxious. Anxious and sad.
“I’m working on being more honest,” I say, and Ivy and Bailey both look up from their tasks. I swallow. “I’m working on being more honest, and I just…I need you guys to know that I might be bad at this.”
“At what?” Ivy asks softly.
I gesture between us. “This,” I say. “I’ve never really had..."
“Girlfriends?” Bailey states flatly, and I chuckle.
“No.” I shake my head and clarify, “Friends. Period.”
“Oh,” she says. Then blinks. “Well.” She shrugs. “They’re overrated.”
Ivy gasps and swats Bailey on the shoulder. I laugh. Bailey rolls her eyes and gives Ivy a shove.
“‘Cept this one. She’s pretty okay. I’ll share her with you.”
I laugh again. These two.
“Okay,” I say with a smile. “Thank you.”
When Roxanne pulls up in her Mustang twenty minutes later, Ivy and Bailey have constructed a pretty impressive cheese board. My brow furrows when I think about the last time I had charcuterie, and I try my best to dodge the memory.
“The party is here,” Roxanne sings as she lets herself in the front door. “I brought rosè.”