“Jessie!” Feb snapped.

But I stared, my eyes expanding in their sockets, so dry, they started burning.

“It isn’t a big deal,” Vi said quickly. “With all of us chipping in, it doesn’t cost hardly anything.”

I looked to the wall.

I looked to the floor.

They knew I had it bad for Merry.

All of them.

Of course they did. They were my bitches. From your bitches, your true bitches, you couldn’t hide anything.

Even if you tried.

“Don’t be mad,” Josie urged. “We don’t want you to be mad.” I looked at her to catch her eyes slicing to Jessie when she finished, “That was why you weren’t supposed to know.”

“Coolest thing anyone’s done for me.”

After these words came out, five pairs of startled eyes shot to me.

“I mean, coolest girlie-shit-type thing anyone’s done for me,” I amended.

Mimi grinned at Josie.

Feb smiled at the floor.

Jessie sent an “I knew it” smile at me.

Vi just sent a sweet Violet smile at me.

I moved toward a jumble of clothes on the desk.

“Right, let’s get this done. I got tips to make and some of this might require tryin’ on, so we don’t got a lotta time.”

“Start with this one,” Jessie commanded, throwing a green swatch of fabric at me. “It’s perfect for your coloring.”

“No, the red,” Meems contradicted. “That’s hot.”

“Green. Her hair, her eyes, it’s gotta be the green,” Josie put in.

I looked to Vi, then I looked to Feb.

None of us said anything.

But I had a feeling they knew exactly how bad my eyes were burning.

And they knew it hurt.

But they also knew that for a girl like me—a girl whose life turned to shit, but I made it through to stand in a small office in a small bar in a small town with women who had golden souls—that hurt felt good.

Chapter Eleven

No Pressure

Garrett

The next night, Garrett walked up Cher’s walk and he did it with his eyes to her front door, the lights inside illuminating the diamond window and coming muted through her front curtains.

He felt something and looked to his left to see a man two houses over, moving down his walk.

His head was turned.

His eyes were on Garrett.

It was dark, the man didn’t have his front light on, and there was distance so Garrett couldn’t see him well. But he was also a cop, so what he saw didn’t sit good in his gut.

It wasn’t the way he was dressed. It wasn’t the beat-up, rusted-out old Chevy truck he was moving toward at the curb.

It wasn’t anything.

But it was something.

He looked forward to jog up the steps of Cher’s stoop, glad that he knew Cher was a woman who would also feel that something vibe from her neighbor and keep herself and her kid well away.

He knocked.

She didn’t make him wait.

She opened the door, and light behind her, front light on, he saw her top to toe.