her mom about how awful Stephanie was. Boston’s mom got so wound up and worrisome when she knew one of her children was unhappy, but Boston still wished her mom was closer. She could really use her mom’s nurturing comfort and advice.
Pulling into Danielle’s apartment complex, Boston put the Tootsie Pop back in her mouth and parked her car. It was only ten p.m., and Boston was glad Danielle’s lights were still on. It would be a couple of hours before Steph settled down and went to bed. In that moment, Boston was more grateful than ever for Danielle’s unconditional friendship.
Oh sure, Danielle would say she still had never given enough to Boston to make up for what Boston had helped her through that first summer they’d met while working at the North Pole. But to this day, Boston didn’t even know what she’d helped Danielle through that summer. She just remembered Danielle crying every night—sobbing as she struggled to overcome the deep, emotional pain she was dealing with. She’d explained to Boston that it was something she couldn’t talk about—not specifically anyway—just that she was dealing with a terrible pain, the worst of her life. Boston had sat up with Danielle many, many nights that summer, simply to cry with her or encourage her that life was good and would brighten again someday.
Of course, Boston’s wild imagination had been on overdrive where the mystery of Danielle’s pain was concerned. At first she’d wondered if Danielle had broken up with a boyfriend. But it soon became apparent that whatever was causing her such misery was much more serious. Thus, Boston began to wonder if Danielle was terminally ill—or if she’d had a baby without being married and had to give it up for adoption—or if there were some sort of problem between her parents. All these things proved not to be the reason for Danielle’s pain, and Boston had quickly decided just to be Danielle’s friend, no matter what. The summer together, the shared emotions, had solidified their friendship, and Boston knew they would always be close—always.
Still, as she knocked on Danielle’s apartment door, she hoped she wasn’t asking too much of her friend.
Danielle opened the door and smiled. Giggling, she said, “Did you have another fight with Medusa?”
Boston sighed with relief, feeling as if she’d just returned home from some long misadventure. “There’s no way I’m going to last two more weeks with her,” Boston sighed.
“Well, quit dating hot guys, have somebody beat you with the ugly stick, and she might make it endurable for you,” Danielle teased as Boston entered the apartment.
“You won’t believe what she did tonight,” Boston began, plopping down on the sofa.
Danielle giggled and sat down too.
“Oh, yes I will,” Danielle assured her. “Spill it!”
“Well,” Boston began. She paused, however, glancing around the room. “Is your brother awake?”
“He’s out for a run,” Danielle said. “I swear that’s all he does—work and run, work and run. He won’t be back for a while…so feel free to tell me anything and everything!”
“So,” Boston began, “Logan drives me home…and, of course, walks me to the door.”
“Ooo! Smooching stories! I love it!” Danielle exclaimed.
“Nope! No smooching stories…thanks to Stephanie Crittendon.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Danielle whined, rolling her eyes. “Tell me!”
“So, Logan walks me to the door. He takes hold of my arms…thanks me for spending the day with him—”
“So you’re ready to vomit, as you always are just before a first kiss,” Danielle interjected.
“Exactly!” Boston admitted. “So, he moves in…and…”
“And?” Danielle prodded.
“And Steph opens the door and says, ‘Oh! You’re home,’ all innocent…and then proceeds to tell me that ‘Danny’ has been ringing my cell phone all day long!”
“You have to be lying, Bost!”
Boston shook her head. “Nope!
Pulling into Danielle’s apartment complex, Boston put the Tootsie Pop back in her mouth and parked her car. It was only ten p.m., and Boston was glad Danielle’s lights were still on. It would be a couple of hours before Steph settled down and went to bed. In that moment, Boston was more grateful than ever for Danielle’s unconditional friendship.
Oh sure, Danielle would say she still had never given enough to Boston to make up for what Boston had helped her through that first summer they’d met while working at the North Pole. But to this day, Boston didn’t even know what she’d helped Danielle through that summer. She just remembered Danielle crying every night—sobbing as she struggled to overcome the deep, emotional pain she was dealing with. She’d explained to Boston that it was something she couldn’t talk about—not specifically anyway—just that she was dealing with a terrible pain, the worst of her life. Boston had sat up with Danielle many, many nights that summer, simply to cry with her or encourage her that life was good and would brighten again someday.
Of course, Boston’s wild imagination had been on overdrive where the mystery of Danielle’s pain was concerned. At first she’d wondered if Danielle had broken up with a boyfriend. But it soon became apparent that whatever was causing her such misery was much more serious. Thus, Boston began to wonder if Danielle was terminally ill—or if she’d had a baby without being married and had to give it up for adoption—or if there were some sort of problem between her parents. All these things proved not to be the reason for Danielle’s pain, and Boston had quickly decided just to be Danielle’s friend, no matter what. The summer together, the shared emotions, had solidified their friendship, and Boston knew they would always be close—always.
Still, as she knocked on Danielle’s apartment door, she hoped she wasn’t asking too much of her friend.
Danielle opened the door and smiled. Giggling, she said, “Did you have another fight with Medusa?”
Boston sighed with relief, feeling as if she’d just returned home from some long misadventure. “There’s no way I’m going to last two more weeks with her,” Boston sighed.
“Well, quit dating hot guys, have somebody beat you with the ugly stick, and she might make it endurable for you,” Danielle teased as Boston entered the apartment.
“You won’t believe what she did tonight,” Boston began, plopping down on the sofa.
Danielle giggled and sat down too.
“Oh, yes I will,” Danielle assured her. “Spill it!”
“Well,” Boston began. She paused, however, glancing around the room. “Is your brother awake?”
“He’s out for a run,” Danielle said. “I swear that’s all he does—work and run, work and run. He won’t be back for a while…so feel free to tell me anything and everything!”
“So,” Boston began, “Logan drives me home…and, of course, walks me to the door.”
“Ooo! Smooching stories! I love it!” Danielle exclaimed.
“Nope! No smooching stories…thanks to Stephanie Crittendon.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Danielle whined, rolling her eyes. “Tell me!”
“So, Logan walks me to the door. He takes hold of my arms…thanks me for spending the day with him—”
“So you’re ready to vomit, as you always are just before a first kiss,” Danielle interjected.
“Exactly!” Boston admitted. “So, he moves in…and…”
“And?” Danielle prodded.
“And Steph opens the door and says, ‘Oh! You’re home,’ all innocent…and then proceeds to tell me that ‘Danny’ has been ringing my cell phone all day long!”
“You have to be lying, Bost!”
Boston shook her head. “Nope!
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