and I’m not sure why. I look over at her and raise an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“Well, I’ve been kind of waiting for you to talk all day,” she says, peeling off the paper liner from her cupcake. “And you still haven’t said anything.”
“What exactly am I supposed to talk about?” I may be playing dumb, but my stomach knows the truth because it twists into a knot the moment I speak.
“Well . . . you know,” she says, busying herself by looking down at her careful steps as we walk between rows of rebar lining the future sidewalk that leads to the door. “How have you been lately? You haven’t cried on my shoulder in a while.”
“Shelby, I love you and you know that, but it’s really hard talking to you about Ash. It was painful all those other times we did talk, and I only did because I had no one else.”
“I know, I know. I’m just worried, and I hope that maybe your silence means you’re starting to feel better. Are you?”
I step into the house, my flip-flop smacking on the concrete foundation. “I’m feeling as good as I can feel, I guess.”
“I’m really sorry about the way this has turned out,” she says, trailing along behind me.
There’s still half of a cupcake in my hand and I shove it back into the box. My appetite is gone, replaced with the painful memory that Ash is no longer mine and I am lost without him. “I’m sorry, too.” We walk into the living room area and the framework for the massive fireplace is already set up. “So this is the living room,” I say, looking around and hoping like hell that she’ll just change the subject with me.
“So, are you thinking about moving on?” she asks, reaching up and touching the fireplace framework.
“No, why? Has Ash moved on?” I look up quickly, my throat dry. “I mean—don’t answer that. I don’t wanna know.”
Shelby’s pink lips twist into a sad smile. It hurts so bad to look at her in times like these. She has his eyes. That same off-center smile. His golden brown hair. How the hell am I supposed to get over someone when his twin is my best friend?
“Hana, I’m not sure he’ll ever move on.” Her shoulders lift and she lets them fall slowly as we walk throughout the frame of a house, the smell of drywall and spackle getting stronger in the kitchen. “But I guess I don’t really know anything anymore. We don’t talk much about that kind of stuff. Maybe he has moved on, who knows?”
I don’t want him to be sad, not exactly. But the thought of Ash being happy with another girl makes me want to run my forehead straight into the exposed nail on the two by four in front of me. I groan. “New subject, please.”
Shelby leads the way through a short hallway that passes a laundry room and leads into the master bedroom. “Okay then, let’s talk about Lincoln. He totally likes you.”
“Seriously, Shell? What did I just say?”
She steps into an unfinished space that’s probably her parent’s future bathroom. “I did change the subject! I went from one guy to another. So, spill it—Lincoln is hot, right?”
I shrug and step into the closet. This room is fully covered in drywall and there are a few power tools on the floor. “He’s cute,” I say, just to appease her. “Maybe a little too tall.”
She turns and leans against the back of the closet, crossing her arms over her chest. The sunlight doesn’t reach in here very well, so she just looks like a blurry ghost, but I’m pretty sure she’s glaring at me. “Okay, so don’t hate me or anything,” she says, walking forward and taking the cupcake box from me. “And maybe I’m crazy for thinking this because I am, above all else, my brother’s biggest supporter, but maybe . . .” She retrieves my half-eaten cupcake and takes a bite. “Maybe you should go on one date with Lincoln. Just for fun. You don’t have to fall in love with him—just go out and have fun for the first time in forever.”
“Since February.” I look down.
“Well, I’ve been kind of waiting for you to talk all day,” she says, peeling off the paper liner from her cupcake. “And you still haven’t said anything.”
“What exactly am I supposed to talk about?” I may be playing dumb, but my stomach knows the truth because it twists into a knot the moment I speak.
“Well . . . you know,” she says, busying herself by looking down at her careful steps as we walk between rows of rebar lining the future sidewalk that leads to the door. “How have you been lately? You haven’t cried on my shoulder in a while.”
“Shelby, I love you and you know that, but it’s really hard talking to you about Ash. It was painful all those other times we did talk, and I only did because I had no one else.”
“I know, I know. I’m just worried, and I hope that maybe your silence means you’re starting to feel better. Are you?”
I step into the house, my flip-flop smacking on the concrete foundation. “I’m feeling as good as I can feel, I guess.”
“I’m really sorry about the way this has turned out,” she says, trailing along behind me.
There’s still half of a cupcake in my hand and I shove it back into the box. My appetite is gone, replaced with the painful memory that Ash is no longer mine and I am lost without him. “I’m sorry, too.” We walk into the living room area and the framework for the massive fireplace is already set up. “So this is the living room,” I say, looking around and hoping like hell that she’ll just change the subject with me.
“So, are you thinking about moving on?” she asks, reaching up and touching the fireplace framework.
“No, why? Has Ash moved on?” I look up quickly, my throat dry. “I mean—don’t answer that. I don’t wanna know.”
Shelby’s pink lips twist into a sad smile. It hurts so bad to look at her in times like these. She has his eyes. That same off-center smile. His golden brown hair. How the hell am I supposed to get over someone when his twin is my best friend?
“Hana, I’m not sure he’ll ever move on.” Her shoulders lift and she lets them fall slowly as we walk throughout the frame of a house, the smell of drywall and spackle getting stronger in the kitchen. “But I guess I don’t really know anything anymore. We don’t talk much about that kind of stuff. Maybe he has moved on, who knows?”
I don’t want him to be sad, not exactly. But the thought of Ash being happy with another girl makes me want to run my forehead straight into the exposed nail on the two by four in front of me. I groan. “New subject, please.”
Shelby leads the way through a short hallway that passes a laundry room and leads into the master bedroom. “Okay then, let’s talk about Lincoln. He totally likes you.”
“Seriously, Shell? What did I just say?”
She steps into an unfinished space that’s probably her parent’s future bathroom. “I did change the subject! I went from one guy to another. So, spill it—Lincoln is hot, right?”
I shrug and step into the closet. This room is fully covered in drywall and there are a few power tools on the floor. “He’s cute,” I say, just to appease her. “Maybe a little too tall.”
She turns and leans against the back of the closet, crossing her arms over her chest. The sunlight doesn’t reach in here very well, so she just looks like a blurry ghost, but I’m pretty sure she’s glaring at me. “Okay, so don’t hate me or anything,” she says, walking forward and taking the cupcake box from me. “And maybe I’m crazy for thinking this because I am, above all else, my brother’s biggest supporter, but maybe . . .” She retrieves my half-eaten cupcake and takes a bite. “Maybe you should go on one date with Lincoln. Just for fun. You don’t have to fall in love with him—just go out and have fun for the first time in forever.”
“Since February.” I look down.
Similar Books
