Page 47 of Wildflowers & Whiskey

“Fine.”

She holds my gaze just long enough to make it clear she doesn't believe me.

“Therapy?”

“Going well.” I keep my eyes on my beer. “Better than expected.”

“Good.” A pause. “I mean that, Colt. That's really good.”

“Yeah, suppose it is.”

I know I'm being short with her, but I can't seem to help it. Everything is rushing back now that she's here. Her walking away, telling me I need to get help. All I heard was that I was too much, because I was always too good at hearing the worst version of what people meant.

“You're still angry,” she says quietly.

“I'm not—” I stop. Start again. “I don't know how I feel.”

She turns back to the bar, wrapping both hands around her newly acquired drink.

“Colt, I didn't leave because I didn't care about you.” Her voice is steady, measured, like she's been thinking about how to say this for a while. “I left because I did. Because I could see what was happening and I knew that while we were together, you were never going look for the help you needed.” A pause. “But I also left to protect myself. I wanted to be there for you—I tried, for a long time—but I couldn't keep showing up for you and for me at the same time. It was exhausting. And I'm sorry that I didn't find a better way to say that when it mattered.”

I listen to her words, and I know deep down I understand, but it doesn’t make it easier.

“It felt like you gave up on me. As a friend too.”

The words land between us. More honest than I intended.

Naomi doesn't flinch. “I know.” Her voice dips. “And I am sorry for that. I should've reached out sooner. That part's on me.”

The music pulses around us. The bar carries on around us, completely indifferent to the conversation happening in this small corner.

“I don't know how to do this,” I say after a moment. “Talk to you like—” I gesture vaguely. “Like we're just—”

“I know.” She almost smiles. “Me neither. But I'd like to figure it out. If you also want to.”

I look at her for a long moment. The girl I grew up with. The person who knew me well enough to see what I couldn't see in myself and cared enough to say it, even when it cost her. Even when it cost both of us.

“Yeah,” I say finally. “I think I would.”

She places her hand briefly on my shoulder. Warm. Familiar.

“Wow.” Maeve materialises between us, swaying. “You two look so good together. A shame that you're no longer a couple because hot damn. Cute babies would have been in your future!”

My jaw tightens, and I shift my body. Naomi’s hand falls away.

“Maeve—”

“No, seriously.” She gestures between us. “Ridiculously attractive. Both of you. It's almost annoying.”

“I think you've had enough.” I take her elbow, steadying her. My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to.

She blinks up at me, confused. “What? I'm just saying—”

“I know what you're saying.” I can feel Naomi watching us; she is laughing at it all. I don’t particularly find it funny. “Let's get you some water.”

“But I'm fine—”

And that’s when Maeve throws up all over my cowboy boots.