Page 126 of When In Doubt

I look around the bar, seeing the circle cleared around us. There are eyes everywhere. I didn’t mean to make such a scene, but hearing that… It was too much.

“Oscar.” Mack says my name quietly. I look at him, his tone making me worry. He nods behind me and I whirl.

Just under the bathroom sign, face flushed and eyes watery, is Freya.

Oh shit. How much did she hear?

I cross to her in four long strides, pulling her into my arms. “It’s fine, everything’s fine,” I rush out as I wrap myself around her.

She’s stiff in my arms and I can hear her breaths coming out shallow. I press a kiss to her temple, my panic rising.

“Freya, honey, talk to me.”

“I’m fine,” she chokes out. She’s not fine. Shit. How did this all go so wrong?

I sigh, giving myself one last second just to hold her. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

Chapter Forty

FREYA

My head swims, everything blurring around me as Oscar guides me outside. It’s only when we’re out of the noise and I can breathe fresh air again, that I start to feel like I’m back inside my own body.

Girlfriend.

What was that? I’ve never seen Oscar that way, never that angry. He looked ready to start throwing punches. He’s not like that, not that kind of volatile. I know he was defending me, but that doesn’t mean I liked seeing it.

Girlfriend.

“Freya?” Oscar asks when we get a little further down the street. I don’t even know what direction we’re heading in. I’ve completely lost my bearings. “Can you say something please?”

Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend.

“I’m okay,” I say quietly. Maybe if I say it enough times, I’ll actually start feeling it.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry about Justin.” Oscar stops, coming to face me. “Don’t listen to whatever you heard, he’s just being an asshole tonight.”

I pause, trying to shake myself out of the haze I feel like I’m stuck in. Oscar’s patient, running gentle circles over the backs of my hands. I look around, taking in the street lamps, the window boxes that are starting to bloom with flowers, now in the fullness of spring.

Girlfriend. The memory of the word rings like a death-knell.

He didn’t even ask.

“Freya?” Oscar prompts, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Please don’t let him upset you, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“I don’t care what he thinks,” I reply. It’s the truth. People have been saying that kind of ableist stuff about me for as long as I can remember. Maybe once, it would have bothered me, but I’ve hardened to it by now. It’s easy to let it roll off my back, especially when it’s coming from the mouth of a drunk idiot that doesn’t know a thing about me.

“Then, what is it?” Oscar’s eyes look pleading, desperate.

“You called me your girlfriend.” I look down at the ground.

“What?”

“With Justin, you said I was your girlfriend.”

“Yeah?”

“Is that what you think I am?”