Page 23 of Reckless With You

I went back to work for a bit more, and then cleaned up and made a quick mental checklist of what I’d need from the store.

I didn’t bake often, but I had at least some of the staples. I’d need to get a lot of the things that went inside a pie, though.

Thankfully, I had a change of clothes in my truck, so I quickly washed up in my office bathroom—complete with a shower and a tub—then put my hair in a braid, stuffed a hat on my head so I didn’t catch a cold since it was still freezing outside, and then headed to the grocery store.

My phone buzzed as I was heading down the produce aisle, figuring out if I wanted to make a cherry or an apple pie. Would a cherry apple pie work? I didn’t have a recipe for that, but I figured I could find one really quick.

I looked down at the screen and tried not to wince.

Erin:We’re heading over soon. We heard Tucker was over?

Zoey:Yes, Tucker mentioned to Devin who told Erin that he came over after we left. What happened?

Oh good. Tucker couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut. Great.

Me:I’m at the grocery store. Be home in a bit.

I didn’t explain, but I knew I would have to when I saw them.

Erin:You better explain.

Yeah, I’d have to. But explain what? The fact that I was an idiot? That I made poor decisions?

I was pretty sure they already knew that.

A little deflated because I would soon have to relive the previous night, I quickly decided to go with an apple pie instead of looking up a new recipe, and then went to check out.

Traffic was easy on my way home, so I beat Erin and Zoey to my place and started working on the pie.

I decided to go with a pre-made crust, mostly because I didn’t have a lot of time. I hoped he wouldn’t notice or care. It wasn’t really baking, but it would have to do.

Maybe I’d actually make a real pie for him some other time.

Before I could lament more about going with a pre-made crust considering that it wasn’t really baking, the doorbell rang. I sighed.

Time to step up.

Zoey and Erin were at the door as if they’d already been together, and I narrowed my eyes.

“So, is the inquisition going to begin, then?” I asked, a little snap to my voice.

Erin’s eyes widened, and Zoey took a step back.

Okay, I guess there was a little bit more than just alittlebite to my tone.

“What do you mean, an inquisition?” Zoey asked, her voice timid.

“We were worried about you.”

“Come on in. It’s cold out. And you don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.”

I took a step back, and the others came in. I tried to calm my insides. I didn’t want to sound rude, or like a bitch. But I was tired. And it felt like I kept making mistakes. I didn’t want to relive it with my friends.

Except they were my friends. I should be able to tell them anything. Right?

“Apparently, after you left, I didn’t close the door all the way. When Tucker drove by—I’m still not sure why—he saw the door open and came in. And I drank a little too much tequila after you left.”

“You were drinking wine when we left. Not even a lot of it. You went to tequila?” Erin asked. And there it was again. The pity. I hated the pity.