Meet Me Halfway(15)

“Yup. Let’s get on the road, bitch!”





Wine shot out of my nose, sending flames through my sinus passages and tears to the corner of my eyes. I flailed my hands in front of my face, coughing and wheezing. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I did.”

“In the same weekend?” I somehow croaked out in the midst of my coughing fit. I closed my eyes and squeezed the bridge of my nose. Wine would be sloshing around my brain for at least a week after this.

She continued, unfazed by my near-death experience next to her. “I mean, I would’ve voted for us to all join together, but sadly they weren’t down for crossing swords. Shame, but we can’t have it all, I guess.”

I dropped my hand, squinting my eyes open to look at her. “You’re joking.”

She burst out laughing, reaching over to pat my thigh. “Yes, you poor sap, I’m completely full of shit. I don’t like to share, you know this.”

Shaking my head, I took a—carefully controlled this time—sip of my rosé. It was Thursday evening, five days after Layla and I had packed up her life.

We’d arrived half-dead, but safe, to the duplex late Sunday night, and it’d already been one of the best weeks I’d had in years. I hadn’t realized just how lonely I’d been, how deprived I was of non-work-related, adult interaction.

Jamie’s reaction had been icing on the cake. We’d picked him up from my parents Monday morning, and he’d been jabbering so much, it’d taken him a solid two minutes to realize she was sitting up front with me. He might have actually stopped breathing for a moment.

His eyes had resembled a shining pair of anime eyes, and his voice had screeched out a shocked, “What?!” when she informed him she’d moved in with us.

Every day since had been amazing. After work Monday, I’d actually been able to shower before bedtime without feeling guilty about sacrificing Jamie’s and my evening game session. Layla had talked so much smack about beating him that he’d challenged her to take my place.

She’d turned and winked at me when he rushed to start up the system, tipping her head toward my bedroom door. I’d almost kissed her.

Tuesday, I’d picked up Jamie and came home to find dinner cooked and ready; a slow cooker meal that made the entire house smell like fall. Not having to prepare a meal had given me an entire extra hour to study, which in turn, meant I got an entire extra hour of sleep that night.

Yesterday, I’d walked in the front door to find her folding our freshly laundered clothes while our pups wrestled on the floor at her feet. I didn’t know where she’d gone to wash them, but she could have washed them in a river, and I wouldn’t have cared. It was one more chore marked off my never-ending list.

Granted, I knew things would change when she started working, but I was going to soak up the help while I could.

Now we were outside, slouched in white, plastic chairs she’d purchased yesterday from the dollar store, and drinking. Not wanting to make numerous trips inside and risk waking Jamie up, we’d brought the entire box of wine out with us. Throw in a full bowl of popcorn and our comfiest sweaters and leggings, and we were over here living our best lives.

Layla pulled out her phone to play music, but I made an excuse about wanting to enjoy the peace and quiet. If I told her about the note my neighbor left, she’d only demand to blare the music even louder. She didn’t take anyone’s shit.

I was known to bite when provoked, usually because of people like the bitch of a neighbor, Kathy, but I didn’t enjoy it. Confrontation made me itchy.

“Seriously, though, Mads, what do you do for fun? If you suddenly had an entire weekend of paid vacation and your parents watched Jamie, what would you do?” She took a giant handful of popcorn, cramming it all into her mouth and looking at me like a deranged chipmunk.

“Sleep.”

“Fuck off, I’m serious.”

I reached between us for the wine and poured another glass. Did I need it? No. But I was about to have a weekend full of double shifts, so I was determined to enjoy my last evening at home this week.

“I’m serious, too. I wouldn’t even know what else to do. The few times I’m relaxed with Jamie and not studying, I’m building a train set with him or watching animated movies.”

I shrugged, pausing long enough to toss a few pieces of buttered goodness into my mouth. “Even the thought of going out to a bar or spending the weekend on a beach with a sexy, hazel-eyed, dark-haired, muscled stranger has me riddled with anxiety. I’ve officially forgotten how to socialize.”

Her drink, which she’d been lifting to her face, froze an inch away from her mouth. A disturbing smirk graced her lips, and her eyebrows were closer to her hairline than her eyes. “That is quite a specific description of a stranger, my dear Madison.”

I waved my hand flippantly, dismissing her observant—and irritatingly correct—assumption. There was no way I was going to tell her about Garrett, my rude but hunky as hell wall neighbor. “It was just an example.”

“A very precise one. What an imagination you must have.” She wiggled her brows. “I suppose when the only thing getting you off is your hand and imagination, you have no choice but to get good at—” She ducked, cackling and dodging my attempt to smack her.