Bet on It (57)

Walker let his legs hang over the side of the boulder, sitting closer to the edge. Aja crossed her legs underneath her, providing a bit of cushion and hoping that her thighs, shins, and ass wouldn’t protest too much later because of her time on uncomfortable makeshift furniture.

“You said your friends brought you out here?” She was surprised when he broke their comfortable silence.

“Yeah.” It was still odd to have the girls referred to as friends, but she supposed it was true. “They’ve decided that me not really knowing anything about what they call ‘the real Greenbelt’ is unacceptable, so they’ve started taking me to all their favorite haunts.”

“That’s really cool of them.”

“They’re … amazing. I’ve never known anyone like them.”

“Hmm.” Walker’s fingers tapped against his knee. “You didn’t have any close friends in DC?”

“No, not really.” She couldn’t look at him as she spoke, turning to peer into the woods beyond instead. “I mean, I had people, ones who had kind of been my friends in the past, but it was always … I don’t know. It never felt like this. I always had to pretend like I was OK with them, or it felt like I had to. It was like … if I didn’t play my anxiety off like it wasn’t a big deal, none of them would want to be bothered with me. With these girls, it’s different. They accept me, they care how I’m doing, they check in when a situation might be high stress and don’t make me feel like I’m a burden. It’s … it’s really amazing.”

When she found the courage to look at him, he had a faraway look in his eyes. “It is,” he agreed. “I came from this place where everybody either ignored me or treated me like shit. When I got out of here, I thought everybody was always goin’ to treat me like that. I didn’t know if I’d ever have real friendships. I didn’t know if I was capable of it. But when I met my best friend, Corey, in college, shit just clicked into place. Now we have the rest of the group, and it ain’t the biggest or most exciting bunch of people but they…”

“They saved your life,” she finished softly.

“Yeah, they saved my life.”

It made sense, why he was so adamant to get the hell out of Greenbelt. He hated this place. His memories may have been deeply unpleasant, but that wasn’t the only thing driving his desire to leave. He had something to go back to. Maybe not another woman or romantic partner, but the pull of real, genuine friendship could be as strong as the pull of any lover.

It was a feeling she hadn’t known before but understood now. What drove him back to the comfort of his support group was the same thing that made her want to keep her feet planted in Greenbelt.

Neither she nor Walker lived simple lives. It didn’t matter how undemanding their jobs were or how much drama they tried to avoid, the nature of their mental illnesses meant it was next to impossible to enjoy lives free of complications. Their existences felt precarious, like they were always hanging off a ledge by a thread. At any moment, something could break and send them plummeting to the ground—breaking into pieces.

She was beginning to learn that while those falls were inevitable, they were easier to bear when you had people to catch you. Good friends could be the difference between being left splattered on the pavement or landing hard but steady on your feet.

And there it was, yet another reason why she and Walker couldn’t work out. It wasn’t just that she lived in one place and he in another. It was that they each lived where they did for a reason.

She’d chosen Greenbelt because it was small and quiet and didn’t add to the loud mess that already existed inside her. Walker lived in Charleston because it was as far away from this town as he could reasonably get. She was growing in Greenbelt, changing because of the people in it. She had friends, people who actually had her back. People she felt confident she could call on a dime with a chest full of panic and maybe find a bit of real comfort. Walker had the same thing in the place he called home.

She’d never felt more aware that love couldn’t solve everything.

… not that she was in love with him.

That would be ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

The stark reality just meant that she couldn’t even consider the possibility of falling in love with him. Not if they each wanted to keep their shit together.

“I’m glad you found them.” She meant her words, but they were hard to say.

Walker put a hand on her knee, his thumb stroking along the tensed ball. “Me too. I’m happy you’ve found some people here who are good to you and genuinely care. It makes me happy to see that not everyone in this fuckin’ town is an asshole.”

“Same,” she laughed. “Or else I have no idea what the hell I’d be doing right now.”

“Probably not be at Cunny Creek with a guy you can’t make whoopie with.”

Aja reared back like she’d been slapped across the face. “Make whoopie?”

“What?”

“Walker … make whoopie?”

“What?” His question came out even more forcefully. “What’s wrong with that? Would you rather I said somethin’ like get fresh?”

“You know, it’s never more obvious that you were raised by your grandmother than when we’re talking about sex and you all of a sudden start talking like you walked straight out of 1973.”