The Worst Best Friend Ever
Delaney
Ever since Sierra had dropped the bombshell that Maisie's father had died, I'd been in a stupor – well, when I wasn't crying, that is.
I loved Maisie's dad. He'd always made me feel like family.
But I'd been crying for Maisie more than for myself. I could hardly imagine how she must be feeling. She was an only child, and her mom had left the island ages ago to pursue a totally different life.
Unless there were relatives I didn't know about, this left Maisie on her own to deal with everything – the funeral, the family bike shop, and heaven knows what else.
It was all so awful.
According to the obituary, her dad had died of a heart attack in the middle of winter. I'd learned this not from Sierra, but from the funeral notice I'd found online after very little searching.
Sierra hadn't told me anything else – not that she'd had the chance. After that bombshell, I'd lurched past them and rushed back to Tessa's apartment, where I could process everything in private.
Now, two hours later, I was still reeling.
Already, I'd picked up my phone a dozen times and pulled up Maisie's number. But I hadn't called, because I had no idea what to say.
What could I say? I'd totally let her down. And as far as her dad, I should've known that he'd passed away. Exactly how I should've known, I wasn't quite sure. Maybe if I'd spent more time on social media?
Then again, Maisie barely used it. Neither did I.
This put me right back where I'd started.
I should've known.
And now Maisie had a new best friend. Had that person held her hand at the funeral? Or told her that everything was going to be okay?
For Maisie's sake, I really hoped so.
And yet, a monstrous part of me felt stupidly jealous at the idea of somebody else taking my place.
As if I had any right.
Already, Maisie's dad had been gone half a year, and I hadn't even sent a condolence card.
I was the worst best friend ever.
And yet, I couldn't shake the belief that if I'd had any clue whatsoever, I would've been there, threats be damned.
Before I could overthink it, I grabbed my phone again. Bracing myself, I hit the call button and held my breath.
I didn't have to hold it long. The call went to voicemail so quickly, I couldn't help but wonder if she'd blocked my number.
After a deep breath, I pulled up the second number – the landline for Maisie's dad's place. It was where Maisie lived, and considering how much she loved the island, I couldn't imagine her leaving.
This time, it rang five or six times before the line was finally picked up and a familiar female voice said, "Hello?"
I literally gasped. "Tessa? Is that you?"