Page 76 of The Long Way Home
Margo leans forward, poking my arm while her eyes remain warm and a softer than before. “Look, if you apply and hate it, guess what, you quit. You’re not stuck in that position just because you made a choice. But Rachel, if you’re not applying because you don’t think you’re capable, let me remind you that you’ve been the person holding my hand through the hardest days of my life. When I thought I’d never breathe again after losing Josh, you showed up. You sat with me when I couldn’t sit with myself. You cried with me, laughed with me, held me accountable, and made sure I didn’t disappear. That’s the same person who walks into that wing every morning and makes people feel seen and cared for. That’s leadership, Rachel. That’s who you are to your core.”
I blink, feeling a lump in my throat. “I–I never thought about it like that.”
“You’re scared, and I get it. But I’ve watched you take care of everyone else for the past four years. And I’m so thankful to you for it. But I want you to get what you want, too. I want you to be brave enough to take it.”
I take a deep breath, letting her words settle. “Thanks, Margs. For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She grins, squeezing my hand. “And you’ll never have to find out. That’s the deal. Soul sisters, remember? Through the bad, the scary, the ridiculous. We get each other. Always. And now, I’m telling you, it’s time to let the world see what I already know—you’re incredible. Show them all what a force you are.”
I let out a breath. “I guess I’ll just have to stop talking myself out of it.”
Margo grins, raising her glass. “Damn right. Now, drink this and promise me you’ll at least think about hitting ‘send’ on that application. Because the world doesn’t need another seven years of you hiding your light under a scrub top.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll think about it. I promise.”
“Good,” Margo says, clinking her glass against mine. “And when you get it? I’m expecting a full victory dance in my living room. No excuses.”
Her phone buzzes against the table, breaking the moment. She glances down, and her whole face lights up.
“It’s Anderson,” she says, already answering. Her voice slips into something I don’t hear often. A gentle, warm voice threaded with affection. She laughs at something he says, bites her lip like she’s trying not to grin too wide.
By the time she hangs up, her cheeks are still flushed. She grabs her purse and pushes her chair back. “Okay, I love you, you know that, right? Would you completely hate me if I bailed on the rest of girls' night? He just got home and ordered Chinese, and he sounded way too proud of himself for ‘remembering the dumplings.’”
I raise a brow. “Uh-huh. Just dumplings?”
She grins and shrugs, guilty but glowing. “There’s food, sure. But mostly a man who’s been texting me all day like he’s starving and not for takeout. And I love you, so I will skip it if you want, but he’s five stars, Rach. Michelin-level. Plus, after these drinks? I’m basically one eye contact away from climbing him like a tree.”
“No, go get laid.” I smirk, shaking my head. “I understand.”
“You sure it’s okay?"
“Go get your man,” I say, lifting my glass. “Enjoy your appetizers… and dessert.”
She leans down and kisses the top of my head, perfume soft and sweet in the air. “I love you, you know that? Text me when you get home.”
She looks better lately. Brighter. Her skin has more color. Her voice has less weight to it. She doesn’t look tired. Tonight she looks full of something I can’t quite attain for myself. I’m so happy for her.
Anderson gave her that. He makes her steadier. She talks about him without second-guessing, without checking how her words sound before they leave her mouth. I’m pretty sure she could say the sky is pink, and Anderson would agree with her. She gets to go home to him every night, a built-in best friend. That used to be her and me, that safety. Now it’s him and her.
I love that she has it. I really do. But I can’t ignore the hollow space it leaves in me. I hate that I’m insecure enough to be jealous of my best friend, but I want that too. Someone who stays. Someone who doesn’t need a reason to care. Someone who doesn’t make me feel like I’m too much.
I reach into my purse and pull out my phone. The screen lights up my face, stark against the dim red of the bar. I scroll through my recent calls until I land on Ben’s name near the top. My thumb hovers over the green button.
I hesitate. Then I press it.
It rings once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth ring, he picks up.
“Rach, what’s up?” His voice is loud. I can hear all of the guys in the background, making it hard to focus on his voice.
“Hey,” I say, pushing a flirty lilt into my voice. “Any chance you’re done with guys’ night?”
“Oh hell no. We just started the second round of poker. I’ve got a good shot at winning this round, babe.”
I let my head hit the cushion behind me. My fingers twist a piece of hair, voice lower. “Are you sure you don’t wanna ditch the bros and come meet me? I’m a little tipsy, and I’m wearing those panties you said made you think very unholy things.”
He laughs, a dismissive puff of air. “Babe, I’m in the middle of a game. It’s guys’ night.”
I force a laugh, and it dies in my throat right alongside my pride. “Right. Sorry. I just thought—” I trail off. What was I hoping for? That he’d swear off poker and drive over, that he’d rip off my jacket in the parking lot?
