Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk 3)

“I think we should invite Ivy to our lady gatherings,” Bailey said.

She, Emery, Jess, and I were strolling down the boards with frozen goodness in hand. It was too hot in the bookstore so we’d all closed up shop during Jess’s lunch break and grabbed an ice cream together to celebrate my lack of a sling.

“I’m up for it.” I nodded. “Ivy and I share a bond now.”

It was true. In the three months since Freddie Jackson had attacked us, Ivy stopped by my shop every week to chat. There was something still faraway about her, like she was living in her head somewhere elsewhere the rest of us couldn’t reach, but she was much better than she had been. She hated the apartment, of course, and had temporarily moved back in with her parents. She was, however, about to close on a very nice place on Johnson’s Creek. She didn’t want to move back to Hollywood but wouldn’t tell us why, so we could only guess at the reason. But she’d started to write again, which I took as a good sign.

She and Bailey were also hanging out again, and it was pretty darn hard to be miserable around Bailey Hartwell. I knew that firsthand.

Jess shrugged. “Sure. I don’t know if I’ll have anything in common with a stunning Hollywood screenwriter, but I’m game.”

“She’s not like that,” Bailey promised. “Ivy can get along with anyone.”

We wandered in silence—Emery hadn’t given her approval for the idea.

I shared a look with Bailey and then Jess as Emery stared ahead.

I nudged Emery. “Em, you’re awfully quiet about it.”

She pursed her pretty mouth. “We’re not in high school. You don’t need my permission to add someone to our group.”

“But?”

“No buts.”

“There’s a but,” Jess surmised.

“Definitely a but,” Bailey added.

“A big one.”

Emery rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh, for the love of God, spit it out,” Bailey said.

Flushing, Emery threw her a dirty look. I also saw that as a good sign. Every day she trusted us more and more to be herself. “Stop trying to embarrass me.”

“Then talk.” Bailey bit into her ice cream and then made a face. “Brain freeze.”

Ignoring her antics, I turned to Emery. “Is there something you don’t like about Ivy?”

“It’s not Ivy.” Emery stopped and leaned against the railing, looking out at the ocean. We followed suit, crowding around her. “You guys … you guys feel like my family. I feel comfortable around you. I’m worried that’ll change with someone else around.”

I snuggled into Emery’s side and pressed an affectionate kiss to her bare shoulder. She looked down at me in surprise, and I grinned. “Then we wait.”

“Yeah,” Bailey agreed. “It can just be us for a while.”

“It’s terribly selfish of me,” Emery said. “Ivy probably needs good friends too.”

“Ach, she’s got Bailey. That’s enough for anyone to handle.”

“Hey!” My best friend whacked me on my shoulder.

I pretended to wince. “Gunshot wound!”

Her face paled. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”

I grinned. “Wrong shoulder.”