“She’s right,” Coop said. “Even if you are a meathead.”
Something was wrong—Coop was trying to be lighthearted, but his face was drawn. Haunted. Eric had stirred bad memories, sure, but this seemed deeper…
Frankie scanned our faces, his own brightening until he got to Mint, whose eyes were locked determinedly on the sidewalk. Frankie’s smile deflated. “Yeah, well… It’s probably best if I go to bed anyway. I’ve got the parade tomorrow.”
Caro gripped him by the shoulders. “Frankie Kekoa, grand marshal of the Homecoming parade. Making us proud.”
He shrugged her off. “I’m just the first Duquette player to go pro. But thanks. See you tomorrow.” He couldn’t resist one last look at Mint, who still wouldn’t make eye contact, before turning and escaping into the shadows.
“God, if you’re out there, please grant me the power of seven vodka tonics to forget this miserable detour ever happened.” Courtney turned on her slender heels and stalked away, kicking up grass with every step. “I don’t hear you following,” she called.
With one last look in Frankie’s direction, we did.
Either we’d been in the quiet, creepy basement of the fraternity house for too long or the Class of 2009 had gotten drunker while we were gone. Either way, the chatter inside the tent was dialed up to eleven. Now back in the safety of the party, Eric behind us, I remembered my plan, the reason I was here. I could still do this. Everyone was gathered, ready to experience Jessica Miller 2.0. I could turn it around.
Courtney fled into the circle of Chi Os—but to my surprise, Mint didn’t. Instead, he turned to me. “Is it still red wine?”
I blinked. “It is.”
“Be right back.” He strode in the direction of the bar.
Was Mint actually getting me a drink instead of joining his wife? I looked around, searching for witnesses. Caro and Coop stood in a corner, having a heated conversation. Well, Caro was heated; Coop looked like he was a million miles away. My stomach clenched.
I was starting to wonder if I should walk over when Mint reappeared, handing me a glass.
“Are you sure you won’t be missed?” I nodded toward Courtney.
“She’s all spun up—I guess because of Eric. I’ve seen it before. I’ve got at least five minutes before she realizes I’m gone.” Mint took a sip of his drink. “Besides, I wanted to talk to you. I miss talking.”
I almost spit out my wine but caught myself just in time, making a graceful gagging sound.
The corners of Mint’s blue eyes crinkled as he smiled. “I feel bad that’s such a surprise.”
What was happening? I was looking at the old Mint—kind, smart Mint, the brave leader. It was like traveling back in time and getting another chance to talk to someone I’d lost and grieved. I had so many things I wanted to say, so many questions. Do you regret it? Do you really love her? What did I do to make you leave me?
But I didn’t know how long I had with the old Mint. The window could be closing, even now.
“I…miss it, too.” I swallowed, then cleared my throat. “I can’t shake how messed up Eric is. We graduated and then never checked on him. We kind of abandoned him here, where she died.” I shook my head. “I feel like a bad older sister or something. Is that weird?”
“It’s not weird. But Jess, Eric is nuts. I don’t know if grief turned him crazy or if it was in there all along, but that man in the basement was unhinged. Playing some sort of cat-and-mouse game.”
“One of us should reach out to his parents, see if they know. Hey—” I slapped his arm. “Also, what the hell with you and Frankie?”
Mint’s eyes darkened. “What?”
“Don’t pull that on me. You were icing him out, punishing him. How can you do that? Are you really so bothered by”—I lowered my voice, obviously not wanting to out Frankie without his permission—“Frankie being gay?”
“No, of course not.” Mint took a rough sip of his whiskey and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t give a fuck who Frankie dates. But he lied to me. For years.” Mint’s voice rose. I glanced around, but no one was looking. “We were supposed to be best friends, and all that time he and Jack were going behind my back. Do you know what that makes me? A chump. A loser without real friends. You can’t let people do that to you, or next thing, you’re a walking joke.”
Jesus. “You’re not your dad, Mint. And Frankie isn’t your mom. No one is betraying or emasculating you. It’s not even about you.”