Chapter 28
DANNY
I’mearly to the bar where I’m due to meet Cruz. I needed to be in order to calm my nerves.
I drain the last of my whiskey and ask the bartender for another when I feel a clap on my back.
“Damn, dude. Getting a head start?”
I twist around to see Cruz chuckling as he looks down at my empty glass.
“Oh, uh, yeah. Ha.”
A nervous chuckle sound comes out of me. I need to get my shit together.
The bartender fills my glass and I thank him as Cruz takes the seat next to me.
“Rough week at work?” he asks.
“Something like that.”
Cruz orders a pale ale and a shot of tequila. “To catch up with you.”
I let out a much more natural sounding laugh this time. He downs the shot when it arrives, and I take the few seconds to mentally rally.
“So how’s work been?” I ask him. If I stick to our standard topics when we catch up, this’ll go fine.
“Good. Busy, like always.”
For the next few minutes Cruz goes off on a tangent about some new physical training equipment. I nod along and offer affirming comments every now and then.
“Imagine if we had all this expertise and fancy-as-hell gadgets when we were playing baseball in college,” Cruz says. “We would have been superstars.”
I laugh. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Enough about my boring-ass work. How’s life as a college professor?”
“Adjunct,” I correct.
He waves a hand. “Semantics.”
I laugh and feel my body start to relax. This is actually going okay.
I give him my standard adjunct complaints: irregular schedule, classes all over campus, crappy pay.
“But other than that, I’m liking it. It’s cool to get paid talking about art.”
“Speaking of that, how’s your own art going?”
I take an extra-long sip of my drink, thinking about the fact that my current art project is a massive canvas oil painting of his sister.
“It’s going okay.” My voice cracks. Cruz slides my glass of water closer to me. “I’ve, uh, got a lot of works in progress. Not sure if it’ll amount to anything, but we’ll see.”
He nods just as his phone buzzes. A smile hooks up the corner of his mouth as he types out a text.
I elbow him. “Who’s that?”
“Just someone I’ve been seeing.”
I make a low-whistle sound. Cruz kicks my shoe, which makes me laugh. He spends the next few seconds texting. I’m about to give him more shit for being so distracted, but he puts his phone away.
“Sorry,” he says with a sigh. “Just wanted to check up on Eden too.”
Cold sweat instantly appears at the back of my neck. “Oh yeah? She doing okay?”
He shrugs. “I think so. I mean, she’s got this new freelance coding job she’s really into. It sounds like it’s keeping her busy, which is awesome.”
“That’s cool. Good for her.” I swallow past that weird constricting feeling in my throat that’s suddenly appeared.
“It is.” His stare turns pointed as he looks at me. “Can I ask you something?”
A wave of panic unleashes inside. I silently order every muscle in my face to keep cool so I don’t give away just how much I’m freaking out.
“Yeah. What’s up?”
Cruz runs a hand over his shaved head as he looks away, like he’s struggling to find the right words.
“God, this is gonna sound kinda messed up.”
My heart rockets to my throat. Shit.
“How is Eden doing? Like, really?”
“Um, what?”
He grimaces. “Look, I know how ridiculous that sounds. But you see her when she’s on campus, right?”
“Yeah. Sometimes.” My skin pricks, like my body is punishing me for lying to my best friend
“Right, well, I guess I just figured that you’re seeing her more often than I am or our parents are. And I just want to make sure she’s doing okay. I know that going to college wasn’t her first choice and that if she had it her way, she’d be off traveling. She’s always been like that—always marched to the beat of her own drum, you know? I’m sure you remember that about her when we were kids.”
I think back to how stubborn Eden was when she was little, how she’d often tear out whatever bows her mom would style her hair with because she preferred to leave it loose. And how in half of the family photos displayed in their house, kid Eden is sticking her tongue out while the rest of her family smiles primly.
I catch myself grinning, then quickly frown. “Uh, yeah, I remember. She’s definitely always been her own person.”
“Exactly,” Cruz says. “And I think that’s great. I’ve supported her in whatever she’s wanted to do. I just really like that she’s back here in Portland, going to college, settling down a bit. But I know that it’s probably an adjustment for her, given that she’d much rather travel the world.”
That thought lodges deep in my brain as soon as Cruz says it.
“And yeah, maybe it’s overbearing of me, but I like having my sister—my family close by, and I just want to make sure she’s actually enjoying school, enjoying living in Portland. If she likes it here, there’s a better chance that she stays instead of losing interest in a couple of months and traveling for who knows how long.”
“Right.”
A different sort of panic lands, this time right at the pit of my stomach. The thought of Eden someday taking off—the thought of not knowing when I’d see her again makes me breathless in the worst way.
“So does she seem happy? At college, I mean?”
It takes an extra second for me to process Cruz’s question.
“Yeah. I mean, she acts like she’s happy. It’s not like we’re getting deep in our conversations when we see each other. But when we happen to see each other and I ask about her job, she always says she really likes it. She seems really passionate about it.”
The concerned look in Cruz’s eyes ease. “That’s good to hear.” He pats my arm. “Thanks, man. And hey, can I ask you a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Can you keep an eye on her? Make sure she’s not dating some douchebag guy?”
I cough through my sip of whiskey. Cruz thumps me on the back. I wipe my mouth with a napkin the bartender hands me and catch him wincing at me.
“Sorry. I know, that was weird of me to ask.”
I wave a hand at Cruz like it’s okay.
“I don’t think Eden would waste her time on a douchebag,” I say once I finish my coughing fit.
Cruz chuckles. “You’re right. She wouldn’t. That’s me being an overbearing big brother again. I really gotta quit that.”
I force a laugh despite the dread pooling in my stomach. If only he knew Eden and I are together…
He smacks a hand on the bartop. “I think it’s time for another shot. The game’s about to start too.”
He points up at the flatscreen hanging above the bar.
“Bring on the shots,” I say, eager to move on from this conversation.
But as we drink and watch football, my brain can only focus on two things: what a terrible friend I am and how devastated I’d be if Eden ever decided to leave.