Page 22 of Meant for Mayhem

Emmy

What? Me? Yes, I’m good. Why wouldn’t I be good?

Stevie

IDK, but the last time you were this weird you tried to convince your son the grocery store was sold out of all dairy products while you were having sex in Beckett’s truck.

Daisy

Wow, I missed that story.

Emmy

Oh my god, Stevie. We weren’t having sex.

Tate

But you were sneaking around like teenagers.

Stevie

To be young and in love.

Daisy

Aren’t you younger than Emmy?

Emmy

She’s absolutely younger than me. You all are.

Emmy

But Shannon, you’ll be there, right? You’re not, like, running away early?

Tate

Okay, I’m gonna need you to spill whatever it is you know but are trying not to say.

Emmy

No idea what you’re talking about.

“Damn you, Beckett, and your big mouth,” I muttered, reading through Emmy’s horrible attempts at dodging the conversation. While I appreciated that she didn’t blast my news to the group, I also knew her well enough to know that I wasn’t about to get out of this without having a group discussion either.

But maybe that was what I needed—some perspective that wasn’t so tied up in my trauma and Mikko’s stupid good looks.

Shannon

Calm your tits, I’ll be there.

I was up before the sun the next morning, staring out at the mountains behind the Conway house for the last time. No matter what I decided about Mikko’s situation, today was moving day and I was leaving my life in Linwood behind. The room looked empty now, only a backpack full of the essentials I needed for the night left to put in the rental car.

I should’ve felt excited.

For years, this was the finish line. The time when I’d finally get to build a life that belonged to me instead of cleaning up someone else’s mess. New apartment. New job. New city. No history waiting around every corner.

So why did my chest feel so heavy?