Me, actually.

I was fucking counting. Every single hour.

Day.

Month.

Remember when things were easy and simple?

Luna and I had decided we were too grownup for the treehouse when I was fourteen. Well, she’d decided, and I’d agreed. I’d agreed to a lot of stuff in the name of pleasing Luna, and I had to admit, it felt liberating to stop giving a crap. Even if I was just pretending.

When I got to the treehouse and climbed up, I was surprised to see it in top condition. No dust on the mini chairs, plastic table, and little makeshift kitchenette. The drawings we’d made were yellow and curled around the edges on the wall, but still there. There were fresh flowers stuck in a tin can on the table. Sign language books stacked neatly on the DIY shelves. Someone had been cleaning the place, and I wondered if it was now occupied by new kids from the area.

I lay on the shabby carpet that smelled of dampness, old wood, and squirrel shit and closed my eyes.

“You had no right,” I heard a voice from the entrance.

Rather than opening my eyes, I relished her voice, which I was still getting used to.

Soft.

Hoarse.

Sexy and gruff, yet feminine, like Margot Robbie’s.

Luna crawled into the treehouse. It was snug for two grown-ass people. That meant she had to rest her thigh beside mine as she curled against the wall.

I opened my eyes, arching an eyebrow. “She talks again. Maybe all you really needed to start talking was for people to stop giving a crap about you.”

Rewind. Stop. Apologize.

No matter how much I’d tried to get over FUCKING JOSH, I couldn’t. The idea of him would haunt me to the grave. Perhaps even beyond. What if hell was watching Luna’s sex tape with FUCKING JOSH on repeat?

Could you die twice? Thrice? My head was spinning. I needed to start looking into good lawyers. I was bound to kill the bastard.

“Don’t change the subject.” She looked around the room, hugging her knees to her chest. Watching Luna kiss Vaughn, or Vaughn kiss Luna, if we’re being technical here, was God’s way of telling me he hated me on a personal, profound, go-fuck-yourself level. I shouldn’t have cared. Vaughn being Vaughn, he’d done it to piss me off. He obviously had a boner for Lenny. It was all over his face—I’d check the crotch, too, but gross.

Luna wasn’t wrong. I had no right to get mad when minutes before I’d shoved my tongue down Poppy’s throat. I’d been tortured by Luna for so long, tormenting her was now a knee-jerk reaction, though.

“You want to fuck around?” I sniffed. “Be my guest. But if you expect Vaughn to dick you, here’s a friendly reminder: he only does blowjobs. But I can refer you to Hunter. He gives full service.”

“Knight,” Luna warned.

I still couldn’t believe she was talking. It made me happier than a pig in shit and disturbed more than a pig on someone’s plate, as bacon. Because she was becoming someone else, and that someone? I wasn’t her best friend. Or her soulmate. I was barely her goddamn neighbor at this point.

“Fine. Sorry. Yes, I’ll stop being a dick.”

“Now.”

“Old habits die hard, Moonshine.”

“You were never a dick.”

“Hmm, no. I was actually a seven-foot dick. Just not to you.”

She gave me her pinkie silently. A peace offering, without saying so explicitly.

I curled mine over hers. “This place is neat as fuck.” I scooted up to sitting, motioning toward the treehouse with my finger.

“That’s because I’ve been cleaning it on the reg. Or at least I was until I left for college.” Luna bobbed her head.

I swiveled my upper body, staring at her.

“What?” Her nostrils flared.

“I don’t know. I never thought you’d say something like ‘on the reg’, is all. You sound completely…”

“Normal?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I used to talk to myself sometimes, when no one was listening. Like, to see if I had an accent or something.”

That made me burst out laughing. Suddenly, the shitty holiday parties seemed centuries away. A spurt of optimism exploded in my chest. So what if Vaughn had kissed her? It wasn’t like they were going to date. Plus, it meant she was no longer with FUCKING JOSH. So, really, today had been pretty pleasant. Even the shiner was badass.

“I have a question.” I poked her ribs.

“Is it about Vaughn?”

“Yeah, but don’t get cocky.”

“Pretty sure you trademarked cocky, Knight. What is it?”

“Remember when you retrieved my bike from him?”

She nodded.

“What did you do to get it?”

“Told him if he didn’t give it to me, I’d kick his ass.” She puffed her chest, smiling.

I snorted, raising an eyebrow. “That did the trick?”

“Well, no. I kneed his balls when he refused. We were about the same height back then. I grabbed the bike and ran. That did the trick.”

“You kneed Vaughn in the balls for me?”

“Honestly, I would knee Vaughn in the balls for sugar-free froyo, and you know I think that’s the work of the devil. But, yeah, you were upset. I stepped up. That’s what we did for each other, you know?”

“Did?” I bit down on my tongue ring.

She looked down at her thighs. “Do?”

“Do,” I said with conviction. “No matter how hard or stupid shit gets, Moonshine. Ride or die, remember?”

She nodded.

Fuck it. She deserved to know.

“Mom’s not getting a lung transplant.”

I didn’t know what to expect. Probably a bullshit, long-ass speech about how it was going to be okay—even though it clearly wasn’t—followed by an even more embarrassing attempt to find a silver lining.

Instead, Luna’s face twisted with agony I knew took hold of every inch of her body.

“Fuck.”

She never cursed. Even in sign language. It felt good to hear her say that.

“Thanks,” came my equally unlikely response.

“I’m looking for Val.” She changed the subject.

“Fuck.”

It was my turn to curse. Honestly, though, I could count the number of times I hadn’t said that word in a sentence on one finger. It’d be the middle one, by the way.

She nodded again.

“You feel guilty,” I guessed.

“Don’t I always?”

“You do.” Unless there are other guys involved, of course.

Apparently, I wasn’t done being Bitter Betty. Swear to God it felt like my balls had been surgically removed from the rest of my body.

There was silence, the type I’d grown accustomed to since I’d realized Luna Rexroth wasn’t gross after all. I laced my fingers through hers. Closed my eyes.

“We can do this,” she mumbled, trying to convince herself more than me. “We can be friends. We just need to remember we’re not together, and therefore don’t owe each other anything.”

She squeezed my hand, sticking to her eyes-on-the-ceiling strategy, speaking as if her words were written there.

“Poppy is nice.”

I didn’t want to talk about Poppy. Or about how the one thing Luna had said about Val changed my mind about something—something I was going to do tomorrow, something I’d decided on a whim and wouldn’t tell anyone about.