Page 27

"Damn right." Carla loops her arm through mine and steers me toward the door. "That's my girl."

We make our way out of the apartment, and as I'm shutting the door, Carla turns and puts her two middle fingers in the air. "Good riddance, Jagger, you worthless piece of shit!"

It should make me feel better, but it doesn't. Instead, I blink, dragging myself down the stairs and into the passenger seat of my SUV.

Carla gets into the driver's seat, muttering, "Can't wait to get to Houston and away from this town and all the men who call themselves cowboys."

I don't say anything, still absorbing the engagement, the empty apartment, and the drive ahead of us. None of it fully lands the way it should. Everything blurs together into one overwhelming morning I wasn't remotely prepared for when I woke up less than an hour ago.

She lets me stay quiet until we're out of town, then glances at me sideways and asks, "You good?"

The town shrinks in the side mirror. I replay our kisses at midnight, and every word he said to me on that dance floor and against his apartment wall. The heartbreak in my chest turns into more anger. "I will be," I tell her, and I mean it, even if I don't fully believe it yet.

She squeezes my hand. "Good. Jagger and Mason are both dead to me."

I turn. "What's the deal with you and Mason?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, keeping her focus on the road.

I pause, tilting my head and arching my eyebrows.

She stays silent, pretending like driving requires all of her concentration.

"Carla? Spill it," I order.

She exhales, long and slow, like she's been holding it in for months. "It's nothing. It's just—" She stops, chews her bottom lip. "It's complicated."

"Uncomplicate it for me."

"Fine." Her knuckles whiten slightly on the wheel. "Mason and I have been messing around for a few years. On and off. Mostly off, if you want to get technical about what 'together' actually means."

"Messing around like⁠—"

"Like hooking up. That's it. That's the whole deal." She says it fast, ripping off the bandage.

I soften my tone. "Deal?"

"Every few weeks, he'd text me at midnight, or I'd see him at a party, and one thing would lead to another. Then he'd disappear for two weeks like I didn't exist. Then he'd come back like nothing happened, and I'd let him, because apparently I have the self-respect of a golden retriever."

I almost laugh, but her voice has an edge under it that stops me.

"I kept telling myself the next time would be different. That he'd finally say it."

"Say what?" I gently ask.

Pink crawls into her cheeks. "You know, the thing where he admits he actually likes and cares about me. The thing where he stops treating me like I'm just convenient."

I know the answer before I ask, "Did he?"

She shakes her head. "Nope! Not once. Not even a version of it. But I just kept going back every time he gave me any attention."

"Girl. That sucks. I'm sorry," I offer.

She shrugs. "It's my own damn fault. I give him too much power. And last night only proved that."

I shift in my seat more toward her. "Why? What happened?"

She taps the steering wheel. "This is so embarrassing."