Chapter Twenty-Six Scarlett
“Do you really think we need the entire watermelon?”
I shrug, dropping it into the shopping cart. “Probably.”
Wren scowls at me over her shoulder from in front of the cart and I laugh, nudging it forward into her ass.
We’ve driven to the bigger grocery store in town, a good forty-five minutes from our apartment, but it’s always worth it.
I needed an excuse to leave the house today after being cooped up in either the library or the apartment for the last month, and this is always a good day out.
I feel like I’m in produce heaven here, and I love being able to see all the different kinds of fruit and veggies before picking out the best ones.
“I feel like we enjoy grocery shopping way more than the average person,” I say, and Wren walks beside me as we turn down another aisle.
“I think we enjoy it a normal amount.”
“I quite literally look forward to this every week,” I admit.
Wren giggles, her greenish-blue eyes twinkling. “Me too.”
We make our way through our list, putting all the essentials in the cart before we get to the bakery section.
Wren and I stand there for way too long, trying to decide if we want a tray bake, brownies, or cookies.
All options sound great, and none of us have time to bake anything from scratch.
We exchange a look before getting all three and shoving them into the cart. We deserve a treat.
“Can I ask you something?” I say to Wren as she places Kennedy’s favorite cereal into the cart.
“Sure.”
I bite my bottom lip, hating that I’m even thinking about this right now. “I know it was different for you and Miles, but how did your mom feel when she found out you were dating him?”
Wren gives me a lopsided smile. “She warmed up to him eventually. I think she hated being out of the loop the most.”
I hum. “My mom’s the same. She always wants to know what I’m doing.”
Especially now that I haven’t spoken to her in over a month, I know it’s killing her that I haven’t reached out.
As much as I hated it at times, I tell my mom everything.
She’s known the ins and outs of my life since I was born.
She always wanted to get involved in any gossip, eager to get to know me as a teen and find out all the things that I liked.
Knowing that we haven’t spoken in so long and so much has happened is making me uneasy.
I still have so many questions for her and my dad, but I miss being around them.
I miss feeling safe with them and having somewhere to go that isn’t my apartment.
“What made you think of that?” Wren asks, bumping her hip into mine.
I let out a deep sigh, feeling my shoulders drop with the weight of my words. “I don’t know, I just . . . I feel like maybe it’s about time I speak to them.”
“Do you feel ready to?”
“Honestly, I don’t know when I ever will, but I want to move on from this era of my life,” I admit, and Wren nods, smiling softly. “I’m having fun putting together my portfolio and working on new designs, on something I really enjoy. I think I needed the reality check.”
“Can I be honest too?” Wren asks, her voice quiet. I nod. “Watching you these last few weeks has been really inspiring.”
My cheeks heat instantly and I scoff. “Shut up.”
“No, I mean it, Scar,” she insists, tugging at my arm. “I’ve seen you overcome some really tough shit and instead of wasting your time being angry with your parents, you put yourself first. And I just know that whatever is going to come out of these designs will be something amazing.”
The heat that warms my cheeks travels down my neck and across my chest, the pride and hope all mixing together into something beautiful that somehow makes this next chapter in my life a little less scary.
I grin at Wren. “You just know, huh?”
“Duh,” she says, sounding a lot like her thirteen-year-old self, and a laugh slips out of me. “And about Evan, tell your parents when you’re ready. If you want to be with him Romeo and Juliet style, go ahead. That’s not their call to make. Just don’t be afraid to be vulnerable with him too.”
“Trust me, that’s not something I’m afraid of anymore. I’ve broken down in front of him too many times to count,” I laugh. I squeeze Wren’s arm, dropping my head to her shoulder. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know, everything. The way you and Kennedy have picked me up these last few weeks. It means a lot.”
She doesn’t say anything else, and I know she doesn’t have to.
In times like these, I always wonder where I would be without these girls. We’ve had each other’s backs through everything. Through the crazy self-discovery phases of our adolescence to helping each other through college with days out and spontaneous karaoke in the middle of the night.
They are my lifeline. The more time that goes on, the more I realize that there’s nothing that could tear us apart.
My phone rings, and I smile when I see Kennedy’s name flash across the screen. Speak of the devil. I answer it immediately, pressing the phone to my ear. “We already have your cereal, don’t worry.”
Instead of the expected laugh, Kennedy sniffles on the other end of the phone. “I need you guys to come home.”
“Is everything okay?”
“No,” she whispers, her voice wobbling. A sharp sob rips through her, and a part of me breaks. “I’m losing my spark. I’m losing everything.”
“What do you mean, Ken?” I gesture to Wren to leave the crate of water, and I turn the cart around toward the checkout.
“I’m not good at anything,” Kennedy cries. “My grades are slipping, all my art and photography work is literal dog shit and I-I don’t know how to produce anything good anymore.”
I shake my head as if she can see me. “That’s not true, Kennedy. You’re the most talented soul on this planet.”
“I used to be. Before I got stuck in my head about everything.” She sniffles again, and I wish there was a faster way to check out our groceries. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
My chest pinches. I know that feeling all too well. “We’re coming home, Kenny girl. Just hang on.”
We get back to the apartment as fast and as safe as possible considering how far away we were. We leave the groceries in the car, making our way up the twelve flights of stairs to our apartment in a rush, my heart beating loud in my chest.
This isn’t the first time one of us has called in a panic. These days happen more often than not for the three of us. We need each other in moments like this. We need Kennedy’s long hugs and Wren’s sweet words and my jokes to lift the mood. We need each other to just be there. To listen. To care.
But when we push open the door, Harry Butler is already there, and the Australian hockey player is looking down at Kennedy as she sleeps in his lap.
The living room is covered in Kennedy’s artwork, printed pictures she’s taken of us over the years scattered across the coffee table, pencils and paintbrushes covering the floor.
“What . . . ?” I whisper in awe, stepping closer into the room.
Harry’s head lifts to ours, his cheeks flushed a deep red. “She called me after calling you guys.”
“You—”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll mop it up, but I can’t really move right now.” He nods to the puddle of water on the floor that I almost stood in and his coat hanging beside mine on the hook on the wall. It’s been snowing on and off this past week, and he must’ve gotten caught in a flurry on his way here.
I figured she and Harry were getting closer since they’ve been hanging out more, but Harry lives in the dorms on campus, which is a good twenty-minute walk from here. He came all the way here in the snow for her.
One of Kennedy’s favorite movies plays in the background as Harry looks down at our friend again, tucking a curl behind her ear. I swear my heart practically explodes in my chest.
“Thank you,” Wren whispers finally, because I’m still trying to process this.
“It’s no problem. I reckon she’ll forget about all this in the morning,” he says, still looking at her as he speaks. “Speaking of, is it okay if I stay tonight? Just in case she needs me.”
“Of course. You know where everything is,” I say, smiling at him. “We’re going to grab the groceries from the car. We’ll be right back.” Harry nods at us, and before we leave, I turn back and say, “You’re a really good friend, Harry.”
He just smiles shyly, his cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red.
The second Wren and I are alone, we stare at each other, eyes wide. Wren slaps me on the arm, and I wince. “A good friend?!” she whisper-shouts.
“What was I supposed to say?” I shout back. “He ran here in the snow?! Who does that?”
“I don’t know, but it’s adorable.” Wren’s shoulders drop as she looks back at our apartment door. “I’m so glad she has him. You know, whenever we’re not there.”
“Me too.” I spin to her, beaming. “We should make her a dessert or something for when she wakes up.”
“You mean, I’ll bake it and you’ll watch.”
I grin. “Exactly.”