The Monster (Boston Belles 3)

Technically speaking, I wasn’t. I had in the past, but I ended things, coming to the same conclusion they did—a decade after giving him my heart on a monster ride.

Belle gave me a pitying look. “Oh, honey.”

That was it.

I snapped.

Jumped to my feet, sending my plate in the air.

“Let me get this straight, you staged a whole intervention because you thought I was having an affair with Sam and couldn’t handle him?” I laughed incredulously, my teeth clenching with anger.

Sailor winced. “I wouldn’t say can’t handle …”

I squeezed the bridge of my nose, willing myself to take a big, cleansing breath.

In. Out. That’s it.

Nope. It didn’t work.

“All right, let’s see about your green, green grass, shall we?” I opened my arms theatrically, making a show of it. “Starting with you, the almighty Sailor, the first of us to get married. May I remind you your relationship started when you were Hunter’s babysitter? Because that totally happened. You were in charge of keeping him in line because his dick was not to be left unsupervised for longer than five minutes. I’ve met toddlers with more self-control than Hunter’s junk before he met you; he was hardly marriage material. That didn’t stop you from jumping into commitment with him. And you …” I turned to Persy, who shrank into herself visibly.

She was the least judgmental out of my friends, but she wasn’t lily white or guiltless. “You were literally bought by my brother, like cattle. Actually, scratch that, he conducts more research before he buys a steer. He’d treated you horribly for months. You broke him the way you break an unruly horse. Through trials and tribulations. You should know better than anyone that the most stubborn mares make the best riding mates once you tame them. And, of course, there is you, Belle …” I turned to Belle, smiling at her sweetly.

Out of all of our friends, Belle and I were the most unlikely pair and also the closest. Probably because we were the only two still single.

“You cannot even spell the word ‘relationship,’ let alone make one work. You are scared to death of love, for whatever reason, and have never once let anyone into your heart since I’ve known you. Who are you guys to tell me where my relationship—or lack of it—is going? You know better than anyone bumpy starts don’t guarantee a terrible journey. In fact, the paths with the best scenery are the ones where you have to go through the mud.”

By the time I was done, I was panting and sweating under the flannel pajamas.

I lost all appetite for the takeout, and even the Christmas movie binge session seemed unappealing. “I would like you to leave now…” I folded my arms over my chest, shifting my weight from foot to foot “…please.”

Persy was the first to oblige. She smoothed her jammies, her eyes filled to the brim with tears. “You’re right,” she whispered. “We have no idea what goes on between you and Sam. In our quest to try to protect you, we’ve been pushing you around, belittling you.” She looked around for support and found it from Sailor and Belle, who nodded, shuffling up to their feet also.

“Reforming bad men seems to be the theme of our girl-gang.” Sailor smiled crookedly, and in that moment, I could swear that even though they didn’t share DNA, she was all Sam. Same mannerisms and lopsided smile. “So I’m really not sure why we’re even worried about you.”

“You also happen to be annoyingly right.” Belle rolled her eyes with a huff. “We all have our ten-ton baggage. Our dark fears. The things that made us who we are today. So what if you’re a one-man woman? At least that man can wear the heck out of a pea coat, is tall as fuck, and richer than sin.”

“Let’s start this again,” Sailor said tentatively. “This time without the judge fest. Ash, would you like to spend an evening together? Just eating junk, getting drunk, watching TV, and sharing tea that has nothing to do with the hot liquid?”

I smiled softly, feeling like a stone had been lifted from my heart, and it was my friends that had pushed it off through teamwork.

“I’d like that, thank you.”

And just like that, I knew I would no longer get shit for whatever happened or didn’t happen with Sam.

The Brennans and the Fitzpatricks did not celebrate Christmas together that year for the first time in a decade.

Sailor elegantly addressed the subject after Jane and Gerald’s invitation arrived at her house, excluding Troy’s, Sparrow’s, and my name.

It was during Christmas dinner, with Hunter looking so emo he gave that asshole from Panic! At The Disco a run for his money.

“What did you do, you class-A fuckboy?” Sailor shot poisonous arrows across the table with her moss-green eyes.