Chapter Twenty
Margo
Grayson and Hayes left five minutes ago.
They were outside on the balcony on the phone with the Red Snake team. Carrie was sitting at my kitchen table, her hands folded together on the surface. I was by the stove, waiting for the kettle to whistle. We’d barely made eye contact, and since being left alone, only five words had been spoken.
When I first arrived in Astoria, I was low on cash and needed a temporary job to help me get back on my feet.
My car had broken down just as I rolled onto Main Street, ruining my plans of driving down the coast, chasing my newfound freedom.
Sarah had just so happened to be grabbing herself and Rossy some lunch when my car started smoking.
That afternoon, my car was in the shop, and Sarah invited me into Rossy’s for a cup of coffee.
They had just gotten that gorgeous maroon espresso machine.
It had cost a small fortune, but Sarah was convinced that having a coffee bar would attract more customers.
I remember sitting at the bar, watching her with a raised brow while she tried to get the damn thing to brew.
I told her I could do it. I made both of us a cinnamon latte, and by the time she took her second sip, I had a job.
“I never intended to stay in Astoria,” I said, breaking the silence, looking at my best friend.
Her head snapped up, her eyes red rimmed.
I’d done this.
I’d hurt her.
“What?” she whispered.
The kettle started whistling. After a few seconds of staring at each other, the shrill sound became too much. I turned, pulled it off the burner, and poured us each a cup. I left the tea in and brought the mugs to the table.
“Which one is this?” she asked, knowing they were from Rossy’s tea collection.
“Soothing lemon and raspberry.”
She curled her fingers around the mug, holding it close as she sat up. “I thought you were from Astoria.”
“No. I’m from Portland.”
My best friend nodded, eyes on the steam rising from her tea.
Swallowing, I leaned back in the chair and brought my foot to rest on the edge of the seat, my leg curled.
“I was looking for a new home when I rolled into town, but for some reason, I didn’t think Astoria was that place.
It was supposed to be the starting point of my drive down the coast.”
“You were running, weren’t you?”
I traced the curve of the mug handle. “I was.” I blinked away the memory and lifted my head, finding her staring at me, head tilted to the side, eyes soft. “I’m sorry.”
Her brow furrowed. “For what?”
“Hurting you.”
She jerked. “You didn’t—”
“I heard it in your voice when you told Hayes ‘fuck you.’” I cut her off. “Which, by the way, kudos to you for doing that. He can be intense.”
“You threatened to kill him the moment you laid eyes on him,” she deadpanned.
I bit my lip. “Well, yeah. You were in danger.”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “I was, and you were there for me.”
I winced and stared into my mug, watching the color of the tea seep into the hot water, a warm brown with a hint of red. It curled and swirled, bleeding into the clear, erasing its purity to add something more—something meaningful.
“Like I said, staying in Astoria was never the plan. I got hired at Rossy’s because I was the only one in town who could figure out how to work the damn espresso machine,” I explained as she stirred her tea.
“Then, after six months, I’d paid off the repairs for my car and was ready to leave.
I was standing on the sidewalk in front of the bookstore in the middle of July, ready to say goodbye.
” Tears filled my eyes then, hot and overwhelming, a lump forming in my throat.
“But Rossy was standing there in his fucking brown pants, cream shirt, and that fucking tweed vest. He was uncomfortable, I could tell. I needed to leave, and he was just standing there, fidgeting with his fucking glasses, Cardinal. Then he said—” I adjusted my voice, mimicking his English accent.
“Well, uh, yes, if—if you’re ever in town again, please feel free to stop by.
There will always be a cuppa waiting for you here, Margo. ”
She nodded, smiling as she tried not to cry.
“And I couldn’t leave,” I rasped. “I couldn’t leave the family I’d found.
Then you showed up a few years later and everything was fine.
Everything was so fucking perfect and fine.
We were all happy and I was in school. I was getting my shit together, Carrie.
” A tear hit her cheek, but I kept going.
“I’ve never once in my twenty-nine years of life had my shit together because I’ve been dealt some bad cards, and in order to protect myself, I began living a lie.
No one knew about those cards and no one was ever going to know about them, how fucking horrible they were and how deeply they cut me.
I should have been destroyed, Cardinal. I shouldn’t have survived, but for some reason I did.
I vowed that when I found a new life, no one in it would have the displeasure of seeing my scars. ”
She was out of her chair then, the legs of it scraping my floor as she rounded the table.
Her arms were around me, tight, warm, and accepting.
I crumpled, melting into her embrace as a shattered sob left me, the pain my soul had been holding on to for years, finally free.
I slid out of my chair, sobbing violently into her shoulder, and she followed me, dropping to her knees.
“And what about the bruise on your pretty face, sweet friend?” she croaked. “Were you trying to hide that from me too?”
I nodded against her, soaking her sweatshirt as I sobbed into the soft fabric. Even her strawberry scent couldn’t distract from the pain, mine and hers. Both existed because of me. That’s who I was: the creator of pain.
The avoidant.
The failure.
The mess.
“Margo, I’m here,” she pressed through her cracking vocal cords. “I’m right here. Talk to me. Please. Let me help you untangle the dark and twisty things.”
“I can’t.”
“I believe you can,” she rasped, stroking the back of my head.
The touch, loving and reassuring, sent me into a headfirst dive into the dark and twisted parts of my soul, the part of me I kept locked tight behind a steel door, concealed by lies.
Through my tears, I told her everything.
I showed her all my scars.
She accepted every single one of them.
In the end, lying only delayed the inevitable.
The truth, the only constant in this universe, would always come out.
“I think you’re incredibly brave, Margo,” she whispered into my hair.
We were still on my kitchen floor, curling into each other against the cabinet, our teas forgotten and cold.
It had been some time since I’d finished talking.
The hour was late. My problems had now infected lives they were never supposed to touch, but I was too emotionally exhausted to determine what that meant, to begin coping with the unexpected, the grim surprise of the past resurrecting from the grave I pushed it in.
Now that the truth was free, the gate refused to lock again. “I don’t feel very brave.”
She hummed a quiet note. The sound vibrated inside her chest cavity, shaking my eardrum, demanding me to pay attention, to not brush off her next words.
And I didn’t. In fact, I knew her next words would stick with me for the rest of my life.
Not haunting me but guiding me to heal. “I didn’t either, but you will.
Somewhere along the way, you’ll realize how brave you are, how strong you are, and how deserving of good things you are.
And when that day happens, I’ll be right beside you, still as proud of you as I am right now. ”
I sat up and found her eyes. My voice was weak, my throat raw. “I’m not deserving of good things.”
“You are, and it’s okay if you don’t believe that right now. I understand why you don’t. You have people in your corner who have no issues proving that to you.” She leaned in, her lips stretching widely. “Including Hayes.”
I could feel my cheeks heating. “Cardinal—”
She held up her hand and gave me a knowing look. “Oh, please. I see the way he looks at you and vice versa. Sarah and I have had a bet going to see how long it would take for one of you to cave.”
My jaw went slack. “Excuse me?”
She beamed at me, giving me a feral grin, followed by her sweet laughter. “Margo, we’re not stupid. He came in every week to check on you after he saved us.”
“No, he came in to check on all of us,” I argued.
Her blue eyes rolled. “That man could give less of a flying snot monkey about me or Sarah. He was there for you. Only you.”
My bottom lip slipped between my teeth and my mind tried to formulate a sentence.
Shit.
Shit.
Damn.
Fuck.
“So what? Did he find out that you were in danger and go all caveman on you?” she asked on a sigh, stretching her legs out in front of her, ankles crossed. When I didn’t answer, she tacked on, “We’re done with the heavy stuff—for now.”
“But—”
“Did he go caveman when he found out all this shit?”
I swallowed. “No, I mean, yes. He kicked my door down but—”
All the breath vanished from her lungs, and she choked on her words. “He what?”
“Is that not normal Red Snake behavior?” I thought back to the BBQ she and Grayson had thrown in July, the conversation I’d had with Ash and Sarah. “Ash told me it was, that all the guys do badass things like that.”
She scoffed and waved her hand. “Don’t listen to Ash about anything. He blew up a building in Kansas City. He’s the wildest out of the five of them. But Hayes kicking down your door is—wait, you talked to Ash?”
“Ash blew up a building?” I breathed, my eyes nearly popping out of my skull.
“He said it was only a one-time thing,” she assured with a shrug. “Grayson wasn’t too upset about it when it happened, but Hayes? Oh, he was furious.”