“What’s he saying now?” Sophie asks, but unlike Fee, her query is gentle, not mocking.
“He wants me to meet him.” I glance around again, still unable to find him.
“Ohh, a booty call,” Fee teases, not understanding the seriousness of our issues.
Of Hetch’s issues.
“Seriously, Fee. Shut up.” I stand, not in the mood for her judgmental juvenile bullshit. Fee shifts uncomfortably in her chair, while a heavy silence, thicker than my own frustration, settles over the table.
There’s no logic to my irritation with her. I know she doesn’t get it; it’s who she is. Fee can always find a way to inject her unique humor into anything with her smart mouth, and normally I can take it. Normally, it doesn’t rattle me. But tonight, she hit her mark.
Is Hetch only looking for a hookup?
Realizing the night is getting away from me, I direct my eyes down at Sophie.
“Can you take me home, Soph–?”
“Lib.” Fee cuts me off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Her apology seems genuine, but I’m done.
“Come on, Lib. Sit down.” Payton tries this time, but it’s one of those moments where there isn’t a way to come back from it.
Not right away.
“It’s fine, Fee. I just don’t think making a joke out of my situation is funny.” I don’t make eye contact, knowing it’s going to upset me to see her hurt by my coldness. “You guys can stay. I can take a cab if you’re not ready to go, Sophie.”
“No, I’ll take you. You’re sure, though?” She thinks I’m leaving because of Fee, but the truth is it’s not Fee who has me running.
It’s Hetch.
I’m not ready to see him.
Just like yesterday when I discovered he was coming to visit Mitch. I ran.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I reach for my bag, tucking it under my arm, then lean down and kiss Payton’s cheek.
“Thanks for getting me out. It helped.” It’s a lie, one I offer anyway because I know she’s disappointed I’m leaving early.
“Message me when you get home.” She stands and gives me a hug. Glancing briefly at Fee, I watch her slide out the booth, coming to stand in front of me when Payton steps away.
“I’m an asshole, you know? I feel terrible you’re leaving.” She wraps me up in her arms and squeezes hard.
“You are an asshole, but I still love you.” I return her hug and then let her go.
“You guys have a good night,” I tell them before following Sophie out to the car.
Not risking a peek around me, and with my phone carefully locked away in my purse, I have no idea if Hetch knows I’m leaving.
Is he waiting for me? Will he be upset with me? Should I have gone to him? The questions roll over and over, each one casting more doubt over my need to run.
It’s not until Sophie pulls up at the front of my place I see him pull in behind her. He followed me home.
“You want me to stay?” Sophie’s eyes track Hetch when he exits his truck and hangs back, waiting for me.
He looks good, too good.
Dark jeans, tight Henley, five o’clock shadow. He stands tall, legs apart, arms crossed over his chest. I almost smile at how strong and handsome he looks until I remember he broke my heart.
“I have to talk to him at some point, right?” I lean over and kiss her cheek good-bye. “I’ll be fine.” I offer what I hope to be a reassuring nod and then exit her car.
She idles in the drive for another minute or two, before taking me for my word and backing out. Not ready to turn, I stay unmoving, my back to Hetch, my eyes on the retreating red taillights of Sophie’s car.
Finally, when the lights fade to nothing, the car no longer in sight, I force a reassuring breath, turn, and make my way up to my apartment.
I don’t make eye contact with him, unsure of what I can say. I almost expect him to ignore me until he calls out, ruining my easy getaway.
“Liberty.” His voice travels across the darkened parking lot and wraps around me like I imagine his arms want to. “Can we talk?”
“Oh, you’re ready to talk?” I spin around with the same amount of grace a three-hundred-pound linebacker would have on a balancing beam.
“Sweetheart, I know you're angry, but I just want to explain.” He risks a step closer to me, and like a caged animal, I react.
“For three weeks I’ve been sitting around waiting for you to explain.” I sweep my arm out in front of me, my finger slicing through the air. It’s almost like I have no control of my limbs. No control over my words.