Thanks to Alex, whose friend’s father was apparently high up in the FBI, Josh didn’t get charged with assault for attacking Michael.
The entire situation felt surreal.
“Either way, it wasn’t your fault,” I repeated. “You were just a kid too.”
“If I’d been there that day in his office…”
“Stop it. Do you hear me, Josh Chen?” I said sternly. “I will not let you blame yourself. Mom and Michael were adults. They made their own choices.” I swallowed, feeling guilty about my suppressed rage toward my mother over the years when, in fact, she’d been a victim too. “You’ve always been there when I needed you, and you are an amazing brother. I’ll only say that once, so don’t ask me to repeat it. Your ego doesn’t need more inflation.”
He cracked a small smile. “Are you going to be okay?”
I took a deep breath. The past two weeks had been…a lot. The revelations, the mind fucks, the sinking realization that I was practically an orphan. My mother was dead, my father wasn’t my real father—and would probably be locked up for a long time—and I had no clue who my actual father was. But at least I knew the truth, and I had Josh, Alex, and my friends.
Maybe the import of what happened would hit me later, but for now, all I felt was relief mingled with sadness and lingering shock.
“Yeah,” I said. “I will.”
Josh must’ve heard my conviction, because his shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit. “If you need to talk or anything, I’m here. Can’t guarantee I’ll give good advice, but I’ll be a sounding board or whatever.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Joshy.”
He made a face at his hated nickname. “How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t call me that.”
We spent the next half hour talking about lighter topics—his time in Central America, what D.C. luxuries he’d indulge in before he returned to his volunteer program, and his now-dead relationship with the girl he’d told me about. Apparently, he’d ended things immediately after she brought up marriage. Typical Josh.
As annoying as he was, I had missed him, and I would be sad to see him leave. He was coming home for Christmas, but he couldn’t take the entire period between now and then off, so he was leaving tomorrow and flying back in two weeks.
However, we still had one elephant in the room we needed to discuss.
“Now that we got all the small stuff out of the way…” A scowl overtook Josh’s face. “You and Alex. What. The. Fuck?”
I cringed. “We didn’t plan it, I promise. It just sort of…happened.”
“You just ‘happened’ to fall into bed with my best friend?”
“Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad at you,” Josh snapped. “I’m mad at him. He should’ve known better!”
“And I don’t know better?”
“You know what I mean. You’re a romantic. I can see you falling for that broody asshole thing he has going on. But Alex…Jesus Christ, Ave.” Josh rubbed a hand over his face. “He’s my best friend, but even I shudder at the things he does. In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never once been in a relationship. Never shown an interest in it. He cares about work, and that’s it.”
“Yes, he can be an asshole sometimes, but he’s still human. He needs love and care like anyone else,” I said, feeling protective of Alex even though he was the last person on earth who needed protection. “As for the relationship part, there’s a first time for everything. He’s been…” I swallowed hard. “You have no idea how much he’s helped me these past few months. He was there for everything. The nightmares, the panic attacks…he taught me how to swim. Swim, Josh. He helped me get over my fear of water, at least a little bit, and he was so patient the entire time. But beyond how much he’s helped me, he’s smart and funny and wonderful. He makes me laugh and believe in myself, more than anyone else ever has. And he may not show it to the world, but he does have a heart. A beautiful one.”
I cut myself off before I rambled further, my cheeks a deep, bright red.
Josh stared at me, shock stamped on every inch of his face. “Ava,” he said. “Do you…love him?”
A lot of things in my life had been hazy up to this point, but my feelings about this were clear. I didn’t hesitate before answering.
“Yes.” I may not know what was in my mind, but I knew what was in my heart. “I do.”
Josh left the next morning after threatening to kill Alex if he ever broke my heart. He was still uncomfortable with our relationship, but he’d grudgingly accepted it after he saw how much I cared about Alex.
Alex had urgent business to take care of after he dropped Josh off at the airport, so I spent the rest of the day with my girls. Since it was drizzling and I wasn’t up for going out, we had an at-home spa day, complete with DIY facials, mani-pedis, and a marathon of feel-good movies.
I’d told them what had happened with Michael. They’d been stunned, but none of them pressed me on it, for which I was grateful. It had been a heavy twenty-four hours, and I needed lighthearted downtime.
Stella checked her phone before pushing it away with an uncharacteristic frown.
“Is it that creep again?” Jules asked, blowing on her freshly polished gold nails.
Some random guy had been messaging Stella nonstop for the past two weeks, and it was making her nervous. As an influencer, she received her fair share of unsolicited DMs from creepy guys, but this one put her on edge more than normal.
“Yeah. I blocked him, but he keeps making new accounts.” Stella sighed. “That’s the sucky part about being a semi-public figure.”
“Be careful.” A shadow of worry crossed Bridget’s face. “There are crazy people out there.”
Rhys, who kept watch from the armchair, snorted, no doubt because that was what he always told her—and she always ignored him, like she did now.
Bridget refused to look at him as she lowered the volume on Mean Girls. That must’ve been the thousandth time we’d watched it, but it never got old. Regina George was iconic.
“I will. He’s likely another Internet weirdo.” Stella made a face. “That’s why I never post my Stories until after I’ve left a place.”
I couldn’t imagine documenting my life online the way Stella did. I worried for both her physical safety and mental health sometimes, but she’d handled it well so far. Maybe I was just being a worrywart.
Someone knocked on the door.
“I’ll get it.” Rhys unfolded himself to his full six feet, five inches. Seriously, the man was enormous. He probably wore custom-made clothes because no way would an off-the-rack shirt fit those big shoulders and broad chest.
“Look at that ass.” Jules sighed. “Talk about a tight end.”
“Stop objectifying him. That’s Bridget’s bodyguard,” I said, nudging her in the ribs.
“Exactly. Bodyguards are hot. Don’t you think so, Bridge?”
“No,” Bridget said flatly.
“You guys are no fun.” Jules twisted her red hair into a messy topknot. “Ooh, look who comes bearing gifts.”