Page 91 of One Last Shot
Moose walked by him. “What do you think you’re doing? Get moving. We have lives to save.”
Boo was tired and crabby and unshowered and had spent too many hours over the past two days on social media, reading comments and rabbit trailing into past adventures and...
She’d even watched the episode where Blake threw her under the bus, like some kind of glutton for misery.
“You look terrible.” The words came from London, emerging from her upstairs bedroom into the small family room of their tiny home. A fire flickered in the fireplace, Boo’s one nod to trying to cheer herself up.
“Did you sleep on the sofa again?”
Boo sat curled up in a comforter, her pillow from her bed upstairs crammed against the arm of the couch. “Sleep? What’s sleep?”
London wore a pair of leggings and a white knitted pullover, her hair back in a ponytail. “It’s something we do from six to eight hours every night. And we usually do it with our phones off.” She came over and picked up Boo’s phone. “Ten percent battery left. I feel like it’s time to tuck this baby in a drawer with a charger, and for you to do the same. Aw, look at the deck.”
Indeed, the rain from Friday night had turned into a full-on blizzard, with icy snow and sleet pinging the deck and metal roof, loud and obnoxious and obliterating any hope of sleep. Hence, the sofa. Last night the snow had turned heavy, the wind adding menace, and she’d already made a nest here, so she’d stayed.
Now Boo looked out the window and saw that the snow had completely covered the deck, the yard, the trees, the shore and turned everything a stark white. A meager sun castover the sound, but the trees didn’t seem quite so tousled. “I think the wind is dying.”
“I don’t know. It’s still looking wicked outside,” London said, glancing out the sliding door. “There are darker skies to the north. Brr. Good day for a movie fest.” She handed Boo back her phone. “You also have a couple missed calls.”
“I know. I turned my ringer off. Couldn’t take it anymore.”
“Oaken?”
She glanced at London, shook her head. Although it did sort of bother her that he hadn’t called.
Then again, maybe he never wanted to talk to her again. He couldn’t have missed the crazy viral posts, right? Although, maybe he wasn’t glued to his phone like the rest of the population of the planet.Please.
“Blake.”
London had walked over to the kitchen area and picked up the pot of freshly brewed coffee. Now she paused and looked at Boo. “The guy fromSurvivor Quest?”
“Yes. Blake Hinton. The guy fromSurvivor Questwho betrayed me and is now dismantling my life.”
London reached for a mug. “He’s not dismantling your life.” She set the mug on the counter. “As I see it, your life is fine. You have a job, friends, a hot man who was kissing you when I walked in.”
She looked askance at Boo, smiling. Raised an eyebrow.
Boo drew in a breath. Made a face. “Okay, yes, we kissed.”
London nodded, pouring her coffee. “Funny, I would have thought you might have sounded happier about that, given your food fight at the Tenderfoot.”
“Not a food fight—okay, a little food fight. And I was—I think. I mean, I am. I think. I don’t know.”
London came over and sat on an armchair opposite her. “Please, don’t stop there.” She took a sip of coffee.
“I don’t want to be stupid and havea repeat of Blake.”
London cradled the coffee mug in both hands. “First, Boo, you can’t let Blake and your anger for him get inside your heart. It’ll do all sorts of destructive things, like make you afraid and controlling and bitter... Anger is the root of so much tyranny in our lives. You gotta figure out a way to forgive the man.”
Yeah. No. Never.
“And second, Oaken is not Blake. He’s not going to turn on you.”
This she had an answer for. “You should have seen the way he walked away from me when Mike Grizz’s wife showed up.”
London took another sip.
“Like I was some sort of disease.”