Chapter 16

sixteen

SYDNEY

“Be a pal and bring me, like, two dozen bookies. I mean, cookies.” My words aren’t slurred, but I’m definitely still drunk from the night before.

Louis and Ollie came over last night after I told them that I was free. Free in every sense of the word. Free of Dennis, free of feeling loved, free from feeling. Is self-medicating with booze the best idea? No, but Louis and Ollie aren’t the kind of people who will eat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s with me as I smudge my nail polish and cry. They did sit with me as I cried about how perfect Dennis was into the tequila they brought. I know I must have been pitiful because Ollie didn’t even try to make a pass at me.

My thumb hovered over calling Noah last night. He was there the night of homecoming when my date broke up with me after I told him I wouldn’t put out. He held my hair back when I threw up after drinking so many Smirnoff Ices that now I can’t see a bottle without feeling sick.

In our group of friends, he was probably the best guy, but he was never my guy. I never thought of him like that. He always belonged to someone else. If the rumors are true, him and Violet both might finally be admitting that to each other.

But I’m calling him now, hoping he’ll hook me up with something sweet that might get rid of the sweet memories of Dennis. Ugh, even Noah has memories of Dennis tied to him, and I’m having regrets.

I’m going to have to move so I can have some peace.

“You know we’re not open yet, right?” Noah’s deep voice sounds equal parts amused and annoyed. I look back at my clock, and the numbers swim before straightening. It’s practically nine, and that’s a decent time to call people, unless you’re a telemarketer.

“Like this morning or ever?” I sweep my arm along the counter, pushing all the beer bottles and cans into my recycling bin. The sound of them all colliding makes my head hurt. When I clean the ones in the living room, I’ll be picking them up one at a time.

“As in our official reopening is after New Year’s Day.”

A muffled feminine voice can be heard on the other end of this call “Who is it?”

Noah must move his phone away from his mouth to answer Violet. “It’s Sydney. She wants a dozen cookies.”

Their voices become much more muffled after that, and I can make out only every few words as they talk back and forth. I hear the words “breakup” and “be nice” and “free.”

“Give me the phone ,” Violet orders. There is more scratching on the phone as a hand brushes the mouthpiece. “Sydney? Tell me what flavors you want, and I’ll bring them by.”

“Just don’t let Noah spit on my cookies.”

“I did that once and we were twelve, ” he objects. Everything is much more clear, and I wonder if I’m on speaker now.

“Just saying, I know you Noah Callahan. ”

“I’m hanging up before I change my mind about giving you cookies, breakup or not.”

My eyes water and I blink them furiously. It’s not his words that sting, it’s the lack of Dennis. I wish he hadn’t given me a reason to cry, but he did. And it was better to make the break now instead of when I got too attached. Attached to the idea of us having Wishbone together, and those four kids we joked about. Attached to the future I was too afraid of dreaming but wished on a star for instead.

“I’m going to remember this moment,” I threaten, trying to keep my voice from sounding too watery.

“And what?”

“And I’ll do something just as nice for you.”

There is a pause. The sounds in the background get dim again, and his voice sounds closer. “Do you need anything other than cookies? We’re supposed to get some snow.”

I open my fridge to look in. I’ve got a jar of olives and some packets of ketchup along with one piece of pizza from Rizzo’s that looks like it might have something growing on it. Sitting on top of my trash can are all the leftover containers that Ollie and Louis ate through last night.

“I’ll be fine. We always have snow this time of year. I’m sure you forgot that while living your big city life in New York.” I’m sure I have chips somewhere around here, and we’re used to snow. I can get out and walk to Hanson’s if I have to.

When I get off the phone with Noah, I’ll check the weather, and maybe I’ll make a trip to get food this afternoon.

By the time Noah arrives a few hours later, I feel like I’m a couch cushion. I pull open the door to my apartment, and he’s standing there with his phone in one hand and the other holding a bag. When he looks at me, he winces.

“I don’t look that bad.” I scowl and open the door wider for him. The smell of snow is in the air outside .

“No, but you do smell it.”

I would throw something at him, but he brought me treats.

“I’ve had a rough week,” I say weakly, taking the offered bag. I can smell the baked goods and lying on top is what looks like a sandwich. I lift it and gesture at him.

“Violet said the post breakup diet might be sweets but that you need to eat something real too. She told me you would be more likely to eat it if we made it and brought it to you.”

Damn her for being right.

“Thank you both. You don’t have to do all this.” I set the bag on my kitchen counter and reach for my wallet. Noah’s hand covers mine, stopping me. I look up at him, and he’s shaking his head.

“I’m told if I take your money I shouldn’t bother coming back.” There is a slight lift to his lips, betraying his amusement.

“She has you wrapped around her little finger,” I say, teasing.

“More than you know,” he mutters more to himself than to me. “But I do have to get back. You’re good? Sure you don’t need anything?”

“I’m in tip-top shape. What’s a little snow?”

The skeptical look on his face reminds me that I still haven’t looked at the forecast, but in my defense, the post-breakup depression has been hitting me hard. Giving him a forced smile, I follow him to the door and wave to him as he heads back to Gingerbread’s.

I close the door behind him and press my forehead to the wood, tears springing to my eyes. There is no reason for me to be feeling this sort of way when I’m the one who kicked Dennis out. It was the right decision. Maybe in another life we could have gotten past him thinking I’m some sort of lowlife criminal, but it was never going to work between us no matter how much I was falling in love with him .

He is everything that I’m not, and I loved letting myself strain toward him like he was the sun, but that’s all I was ever going to accomplish. I would have set myself up to perpetually yearn to be like him, only for him to realize eventually that I wasn’t right for him. How could I have been? I may not have committed the crime, but I thought about it, and a man like Deputy Dennis Mitchell never would have even thought about it.

That is the crux of our issue. It’s not a matter of me not being good enough for him, it’s a matter of not being good enough. I’m not pure enough of a soul for Dennis.

I have to keep reinforcing those thoughts as much as I can.

I’m about to turn back into a couch cushion when there is a knock at the door. I’m guessing Noah must be back with something. He probably saw the state of my apartment and knew that my promise of being fine was all a front.

Only, it’s not Noah standing on the other side of my door. It’s Ben.

“Sup.” He nods at me, and I notice Wishbone sitting at his feet, looking up at me.

“What are you doing here?” I lean out the door to look down the block to see if Dennis is nearby at all. No. The street is totally empty.

“So, Dennis has to work because of the storm, and he wanted me to keep an eye on Wishbone, which would have been fine, but my parents want me to head to their house early so I could spend Christmas with them even if the snow is bad.”

Shit. It’s Christmas this week, isn’t it?

“Okay…” I’m still unsure how I’m involved in all this.

“So, I need you to take Wishbone.” He places her leash in my hand.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going out of town, and Dennis is going to bunk down at the station house so Wolensky can be with his wife and kids for Christmas.”

“All this for a little snow?”

Ben ignores me. He grabs a box and places it just inside my door, bumping into me as he does. It’s full of stuff, toys and treats and food bowls, all things that I had texted to Dennis that we should get for Wishbone.

Apparently, at some point he did bring her home, but he never told me even in the last week that he spent with me.

“When did he get her?”

Wishbone walks into my house like she owns it, but when she reaches the end of the lead on the leash, she sits back down and stares.

“The night you had the coffee thrown on you. He picked her up and dropped her back at the house. He didn’t want to possibly stress out the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“Excuse you?” I ask, as he puts a dog bed just inside my door.

“Oh, don’t pretend you didn’t hear me, Sydney. He’s been head over heels for you since he came back from that stupid party. You’re all he talks about, all he thinks about, and he says one stupid fucking thing, which we all agree was dumb, and you bolt. I shouldn’t be surprised, really. You always thought you were too good for everyone, so you and your loser friends turned your nose up at everyone else. For a second, I actually thought you might be good for him, get him to live a little after being so rigid because of Carmen. But instead, you flee at the first chance you get. He’s better off without you or Carmen, but at least he knew exactly who she was, even if he never admitted it. There was a reason he never pushed her to get married or pushed to try to make their relationship work. Meanwhile, for you, he’s ready to assault a guy for hurting you. And he took all of last week off to be with you, for a first degree burn. I’ve had sunburn worse than that.

“So, no. He didn’t tell you he got Wishbone. He didn’t tell you that he had me walking her because he didn’t want to risk her scratching your burns, even though this dog doesn’t jump on people. He didn’t tell you he brought her home after finding out that she did have a chip. He didn’t tell you that when the shelter called her family, excited that she was found, her family told him they already got a new dog after Wishbone ran out of their car during a cross-country move. He didn’t tell you that he put your name down on the adoption form too because he was excited to take care of her with you .”

Ben runs his hands through his hair. “I mean, fuck, Sydney. I can’t remember the last time he got blackout drunk, but he came home from your place yesterday, and he just poured all his worries out of the bottle until he passed out and accepted double shifts all week for his favorite holiday because you’re a chickenshit.”

“Ben,” I start, but he shakes his head.

“I don’t want to hear it. I need to get out of here before the weather gets too bad. Wishbone’s coat and boots are in the box. You need to walk her four times a day. I don’t know if she likes the snow, but I guess you’re going to find out.”

He doesn’t even give me a chance to say anything before he turns on his heel and walks back to his car, leaving Wishbone and me alone to think of all the ways he was right.

Having Wishbone as my companion is honestly a help. Taking care of her distracts me from wallowing in my decision. I was endlessly wondering if I made the right call with Dennis. I was never going to be good enough for him, so it was better to save us all the future heartbreak.

Wishbone gives me a skeptical look every time I repeat my reasoning to her. I break the silence between Dennis and I to send him a picture of her in her coat and shoes. There is no answer to the text, but when I open my front door, there is a load of groceries sitting on my porch.

I refuse to believe that Dennis had anything to do with this. Because that would mean that even after I kicked him out of my house, even after I shut him out of my feelings, he is still caring for me.

One look inside the first bag, and I know it was Dennis and not Noah because it’s full of all of my favorite freezer treats.

I stop supporting myself and drop onto the floor, where Wishbone gladly laps at the salty tears that start to spill down my face. I have no right to feel like this. I have no right to be sad when I am the one who did this. I am the one who broke both of us beyond repair. He may have said something stupid, and Ben is right, it’s something that we could have probably talked out, but I took the easy road. And fuck if it doesn’t hurt to see a reminder that even when I cut us off at the knees, Dennis is still caring for me.

“Sorry, girl,” I tell Wishbone, my voice croaking. “You’re going to have to wait for your walk.”

After bringing all the bags inside, I unhook her leash but leave her in her coat and shoes. I’m not prepared for having to fight to get them back on her.

She awkwardly kicks her feet as she follows me, an attempt to get the shoes off no doubt, but I won’t cave. The ground is going to be freezing.

Dennis really did cover me with anything I might need for a month. There are foods that are easy to reheat and plenty of snacks in case I want to eat my feelings. He even included my favorite ice cream.

It would be so much easier to feel good about this decision if he was a bad guy, but he’s possibly the best guy I’ve ever known, let alone dated. There’s also a large bag of dog food and some special fresh dog food too that needs to be refrigerated. If Wishbone and I get trapped, we’re set.

Knowing that the weather is going to get worse before it gets better, I take Wishbone out for her walk. The snow is starting to layer the ground, sticking to the grass and the sidewalk, only it’s not really sticking to my sidewalk or porch steps because someone already salted it. I know it’s not my landlord because he’s never done that. The fresh bag of rock salt leaning in a corner tells me precisely who did this. No one else would go out of their way to also put a brand new snow shovel and salt where I can reach it if I need to shovel out. My landlord for sure would not.

I have to blink away the tears before they freeze to my face. The biting cold means it’s perfect for anyone who wants to do one of those challenges where you throw a cup of hot water outside only to watch it turn to snow or freeze your ramen as you lift it in the air.

All things that require being outside for longer than I want to be.

“Why couldn’t you be a cat?” I ask Wishbone as she sniffs around, looking for the perfect spot to do her business. Fortunately, she’s just as cold and quickly pees before sprinting in the direction of the front door.

When I get back inside and both of us cast our damp jackets to the side, I have one text waiting for me.

Let me know if you need anything.

It’s too bad the thing I need is on the other end of that text, pushed out of my reach by my own doing.