Their Freefall At Last by Julie Olivia

39

Bennett

When I pull up to Ruby’s house, the night is still. I always thought that was a weird thing to see written in books, but tonight, I finally understand what it means. I can’t hear crickets. I can’t hear the hum of streetlamps. Even the wind feels elusive.

It’s much too late to be at her house—I know that—but Ruby left her purse at the restaurant. When I plucked it from the back of her chair, Jolene suggested we drop it off. She said it with a smile, too, which I can’t imagine she would have done a week ago. But then again, she’s thrilled about everything since I placed that ring on her fourth finger three hours ago.

I love seeing Jolene happy. I like the way her dimples press into her cheeks and how giggly she gets when she’s not much of a giggly person at all.

Ruby’s driveway only has one car—a bright red Camaro. I see no sign of her clunker.

“Who’s that?” Jolene asks.

“Probably just her neighbors, using her driveway again.”

I’ve been telling Ruby for years she should talk to them when they have parties because they always block her in or out, but she won’t have the tough conversation.

I look at Jolene running her thumb over her ring again. She looks over at me and grins. I can’t help but return the smile.

“Hi, fiancé.”

“Hello there, fiancée.”

Jolene is a woman who deserves to be given everything in life, and I cannot wait to give it to her. Marriage. A life. A future.

But then my mind drifts back to Ruby and how she looked tonight with red eyes and a stumble in her step. How every time I caught sight of her, she was downing another flute of champagne. I was assured that Quinn and Landon were watching over her, but my hands itched to reach out to her and keep her from falling.

I was stuck in conversation for too long at one point, then couldn’t find them again. One—most likely panicked-looking—glance at Emory, and he quickly explained that the three of them had left a minute or two ago. With her purse left behind, phone and all, I knew she’d grabbed a ride with them.

At least, I hoped so. But I can’t text her to be sure.

I fist her purse in my hands, hoping to God she’s inside.

I exit the still-running truck and knock on Ruby’s door. The living room blinds are drawn, so I can’t see if she’s on the couch, watching sitcom reruns or eating late-night cookie dough. Normally, when she’s a little tipsy, that’s her favorite thing to do.

Nobody answers after a second ring, so I pull out my own key to her house, turn the door handle, and step inside.

“Rubes?”

Her TV is on in her bedroom. The hall light is on too. There’s a squeak of a mattress, and then Ruby’s ginger hair pokes out from the hallway.

“Oh, thank God,” I breathe.

Her green eyes are as wide as I’ve ever seen them, like a teenager caught in the act. It almost makes me want to laugh if it didn’t strike me as weird.

“Bennett?”

She quickly glances behind her in the hallway before walking out into the living room. She’s wearing a loose Buzzy the Bear T-shirt with ratty blue sleep shorts she’s had since we were teens. Her face is flushed.

“You left your purse,” I say, walking forward to place it on the counter.

Her eyes drift behind her once more.

Then, cold sluices over my skin when I’m hit with a realization. A daunting one.

Does she have someone over?

I want to laugh it off, but the smile won’t cross my face. Not even for a second.

The question barrels out of me before I can stop it. “Is someone here?”

I know it’s a mistake the moment I say it.

With each passing second, Ruby’s face transforms. Tilted eyebrows start to furrow in the middle. Her parted lips purse and downturn to something new. Her green eyes narrow.

“Why?” she says slowly. “Why would it matter if someone was here?”

Unease rolls over me, quickly followed by guilt.

Why does it matter?

It shouldn’t. It can’t. If she wants to have someone here, that’s not my business. Except part of me feels like it is. And just like always, I know Ruby can read my mind. I hate our little parlor trick for the first time ever.

“It doesn’t,” I answer quickly.

“Then, why’d you ask?”

“Forget I did.”

I’ve never seen her like this—with suspicion in her eyes and anger twinkling behind it.

Ruby is never angry.

Her foot taps on the carpet. She’s crossed her arms, her fingers twitching against them. “Why did you ask, Bennett?”

The world tilts just the slightest bit, and my heart slides with it.

Why did I?

And why is my heart rate rising? Why are all my nerves shooting like sparks? Why do I want to scream?

“Shit,” I hear myself say before I can stop it. My palm runs over my face, pulling down, trying to massage away the question. Trying to take it back.

And slowly, step by step, with the sound of creaking wood under her carpet, Ruby walks closer, then stares in my face.

“You’re engaged.”

I nod, my jaw twisting. “I am.”

“But you’re here. Asking if someone else is in my bedroom. Even though I’m not with you.”

I freeze. Everything feels like it’s moving forward, but the room is moving back. It’s tunnel vision. It’s nausea. It’s everything in between.

“It’s not like that—”

“I won’t be your Miranda.”

“Wait, do I make you feel like Miranda?”

And with a grind of her jaw, blinking as she looks away, she just shrugs.

I rush toward her, faster than I can think to stop, and I pull her into me. I hug her tight, burying my palms into her back, sinking my nose into her soft hair. She doesn’t hug me back. Her arms hang limply by her sides. And they stay that way until, finally, I feel them wrap around me.

We hold each other for a second or two before both pulling away. And I’m happy it’s at the same time because I don’t know what would be worse—her pulling away first or me.

Ruby and I stare at each other, just the sound of music coming from her room and the thought of someone else in there lingering in my mind.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I am so, so sorry.”

Her lips pull in, and she shrugs. Her mouth opens and closes. She looks away and sighs.

“I’m happy for you,” is all she says. “It’s gonna be a beautiful wedding.”

She’s lying through her teeth, but I don’t think now is the right time to call her out about it. I don’t know when the correct moment would be, if ever.

“I’m your best man, right?” she asks, and it breaks part of the tension, but not all of it.

A sliver of a smile twitches at my lips. “Of course.”

“Best maiden?”

“Groom of honor even.”

“Good.”

She smiles back, but I don’t know how. Our banter is somehow the same, yet not.

I glance over the little freckles on her cheeks, her small chin, her twitching eyes. But Ruby stares back at me very differently. Her eyebrows are flat. Full lips as thin as possible. Arms crossed tight over her chest once more.

“I should go to bed,” she announces.

I nod with her. “Okay. I’ll see you later then?”

“Mmhmm.”

I walk to the door. She doesn’t walk with me.

I twist on my heel, tilting my head to the side. I feel like I should ask more questions and say more things, but nothing comes to mind. Instead, my eyes flick to the hallway light, the television in her bedroom, and the thought that there might be someone in there who owns a red Camaro.

“Congratulations,” Ruby says, drawing me back. “Really.”

But she doesn’t mean it.

I do the socially responsible thing and smile anyway. “Thanks.”

There’s something behind my best friend’s eyes. And it sure isn’t happiness.

I walk out the door, and the thump of it closing behind me feels like getting kicked out of my own home.