Chapter Eighteen #2
“Like the bubble will burst.” She nods, knowingly.
“So, what happened when you turned up at the bar?” I dive into the play-by-play, telling Ivy everything that happened.
When I come to the end, I take a deep breath.
She’s going to murder me for keeping this from her for so long.
We’ve never really kept secrets, not since we met on the first day of college as roommates.
“A few months ago, when Grant and I last broke up and I moved all my stuff out overnight…” She nods, remembering the time. “I left so quickly because he slapped me across the face. Gave me a black eye and split my lip on his ring.”
Ivy’s face falls. “He what?!”
“It was a long time ago. I went to see someone after it happened to talk it out—”
“Katie.” I look up at my best friend. Heartbreak is written all over her face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I—” I shrug. “I think I was embarrassed.”
“You have nothing to feel embarrassed about.” Ivy leans over and wraps her arms around my neck. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
I hug her tightly. “It’s okay. I’m fine. Really, I am.” Ivy sits back on her heels and gives me a disbelieving look. “Promise. I went to see a counselor afterwards, and we talked about it, and I was going to tell you, but you got engaged, and I honestly just wanted to move on.”
“You sure?”
I nod. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“So why the tears?”
“I have no idea. I think maybe I’m realizing I wasted four years on a guy who never bothered to learn a thing about me, and within a couple of months, Flynn has learned it all. He got the good bagels, Ivy.”
Her eyes widen, and she laughs. “Oh my god! I knew he wasn’t asking for no reason. A few weeks ago, when you guys came round for wedding planning and football, he was bombarding me about all your favorite foods. Said he just wanted to make sure you had things that felt like home.”
“Yeah, well”—I swipe my sleeve under my eyes again—“he remembered. All of it.”
“He’s a simp for you, Katie. I’d say even maybe worse than Scott.”
I scoff and roll my eyes, pinning her with a look. “No one is worse than Scott.”
Flynn
I toss in the sheets for the fifth time, rolling over to check the clock on my phone again. Almost midnight. Fuck, it’s late. I’m going to be wrecked tomorrow if I don’t get some sleep. A text pops up on my phone, just as I tap the screen again.
Katie: Thank you for the popcorn. And the Nutella. And the bagels.
Katie: Don’t forget to win for me tomorrow.
I smile, snatching the phone off my nightstand and hitting the call button on her contact. She answers halfway through the first dial tone.
“Hello?” she whispers.
“Hey, you,” I rasp, my throat scratchy after a few hours of not speaking. Scott and I called it an early night, eating with the boys, but not staying for the FIFA tournament they wanted to start in Cooper’s room.
“What are you still doing awake?”
“I can’t sleep,” I tell her, pressing the phone to my ear and rolling onto my back. The room is pitch black except for the light from the screen, and I can’t see a single thing. “Can you talk? Why are you whispering?”
“Hang on.” I hear the rustle of covers and the quiet click of a door before she says, “Okay, now I can talk.”
“Where were you?”
“In the guest room, with Ivy.”
“You were sleeping with Ivy?”
“Duh, it’s a sleepover.”
“But you don’t sleep in the guest room anymore,” I say. This only makes her laugh.
“I know, but I thought it would be weird if we slept in your bed.”
I pause. “Why would it be weird?”
“I don’t know, it just would be.”
I listen again as I hear sheets rustling. “What are you doing now?”
“Getting into your bed, Reed. Happy now?”
“Very much so.” I smile into the darkness. “You should stay there. I like knowing you sleep in my bed even when I’m away.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you never, ever make the bed. You’re messy, Murphy. You leave evidence behind you wherever you go.” She laughs, and the speaker muffles for a moment. I imagine her burrowing into my sheets, warming herself up under the heavy cover that she always accuses me of stealing.
“I won’t change my ways. I haven’t in twenty-six years, and I won’t now.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“So…” She hums over the phone. “What’s keeping you up?”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Flynn. I promise.”
“You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”
There’s a beat of silence and then a small, “Yes.” She’s lying. Of course, she is. I may have gotten through many of her tall, thick walls, but there’s still more to break through. More like wait for her to build a door and open it for me. Grant did enough breaking of her boundaries for a lifetime.
“Good. I miss you.”
She’s silent again, but this time, when she speaks, I know she’s telling the truth. “I miss you, too.”
“Do you want to watch something together?” I fumble around, feeling for the remote on the other side of the bed where I threw it earlier. The TV screen lights up the room instantly. “Oh, I want to show you something. Turn on YouTube.”
Her laughter rings down the phone and sends a warm jolt through my veins. I wish I could bottle that sound. The sound of her laughing, happy and free. “Okay,” she says. “I’m on YouTube.”
“Type in secretsongsboston.” I type in the name of the channel as Katie goes quiet on the other end of the line.
“It’s this girl, woman, I have no idea how old she is, but I found her a few weeks ago.
She posts these incredible covers of all these songs, and lately, they’ve all been these ones that I love. It’s incredible.”
“You … you don’t know who it is?” she asks quietly.
“Nah, the channel is completely anonymous.” I flick through the tracks. “Have you found it?”
She sucks in a breath before answering. “Yeah. Yeah, I have.”
“They just posted a new one the other day. ‘I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing’ by Aerosmith.” I flick across until I find the video I want. “It’s got to be one of my all-time favorite tracks.”
“I-I know. The vinyl is hanging on the wall on the staircase.” Her voice is a little shaky. The reception must not be the best in the hotel.
“Will you listen to it with me?” I ask her, hovering over the play button.
I can hear the sounds of the TV back in my bedroom, the small clicks as she searches through the videos on the screen. “Okay, I found it.”
“Ready?”
“Go,” she whispers.
The voice coming through the phone and the one playing on the screen are in perfect sync.
We stay quiet, listening to the singer’s soft voice as it turns every lyric into the most beautiful melody.
The video is trained on her fingers as they play the keyboard that accompanies her voice. She’s got red nails.
“Katie?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you get the red nails back if I win tomorrow?” I ask, smirking as I remember how good they looked. She lets out a watery laugh and then sniffs. Is she … crying? “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing.” Another sniffle and a ruffle of sheets as she turns over. “It’s just a nice song. What’s another of your favorites?”
I name track after track on the YouTube channel, and we listen to them all.
Sometimes twice. Eventually, I hear her breathing go steady, and she’s been quiet for a while.
I realize she’s fallen asleep on the other end of the phone.
I turn the TV off, listening to whatever sound comes through the phone, and close my eyes.
I’m asleep within minutes.