Their Freefall At Last by Julie Olivia

48

Bennett

One Week Before

Ruby & Bennett are Thirty Years Old

“Oh my God, I hate it.”

“Nope. Leave. Leave right now.”

“Jump scare. For real.”

Those are pretty much the reactions I expected. However, when I walked into The Honeycomb with my long hair chopped off, I thought the gawking would be kept only at my table. It’s not. All around the bar, regulars are staring—even Mrs. Stanley is clutching her heart.

Oh God, did I give the old lady a heart attack?

Emory, who is also blinking like the image of me is still buffering before his eyes, holds out a steady hand. “You look sharp, Bennett.”

I place my palm in his hand, giving it a firm shake. “Thanks, man.”

But the nice gesture is still accompanied by the befuddlement from everyone else. Lorelei is chewing on her thumb. Quinn’s arms are crossed. And Theo’s eyes still can’t stop roaming up to my head.

In response, I run my hand through my hair—my very short hair.

The girls collectively gasp.

What was once a long mess of hair that touched just below my shoulders is now almost nothing. My head is shaved close on the sides and styled short up top. It’s a shock to the system, especially after caring for my long rocker hair my entire life. The first time I looked in the mirror, I thought I should introduce myself as Mr. Shaw, moving forward. I considered buying a briefcase, but the thought had me deflating. It would have been a funny bit if I was able to laugh about it myself. As it is, my neck is cold.

I take my usual seat at our trivia table, pinning my elbows to my sides. It’s a tight fit. I’m accustomed to a tiny ginger sitting next to me, but now, the seat has been taken by Landon, who is far taller and broader.

It’s uncomfortable, but what isn’t nowadays?

I blink at the shocked faces. “You’re allowed to say something nice about my haircut.”

Quinn squints, waving her hand in the air. “Sure. But, y’know, why lie?”

Landon rests his arm around her shoulders. “It’s nice.”

Lorelei places a hand on my forearm from across the table. “It does look good, Bennett. It’s just … different.”

Theo leans forward, eyeing every inch of my face. “So, why’d you cut it?”

Quinn coughs into her fist something that sounds very obviously like, “Jolene.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Quinn.”

“What?” she says, holding up her hands. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” I say, dragging the word out. “She wanted me to look clean for the wedding. I can’t fault her for that.”

“Right,” Quinn says, rolling her eyes. “Because you totally didn’t wash your dirty hair beforehand, you caveman, you.”

“Your hair was prettier than mine,” Theo muses, now fluffing up her own curls, as if ensuring they haven’t disappeared too.

“You know what? You look smart,” Lorelei says.

“Soccer-dad style,” Theo says.

“Businessman bright,” Quinn chimes in.

We all wait for a fourth female voice to chime in, but nothing follows. Because that voice isn’t here.

At the same time, we shuffle in our chairs, feeling the absence of her too much.

“I like it,” I say. “Change is good.”

Emory, of all people, grunts in response. But when I cut a glance at him, he’s already looking in the other direction.

“What?” I ask.

The whole table is looking elsewhere, either at the floor or at their drinks or at the trivia question posted on the television.

“What, guys?” I repeat.

“Well,” Lorelei says, chewing on her bottom lip, “it just kinda seems like you’ve been changing a lot lately.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“I haven’t seen your motorcycle in a while,” Theo mumbles.

“Or your band tees,” Lorelei notes.

Quinn snorts. “Well, and I don’t see our little ginger-headed friend here, do you?”

I freeze on the spot, and when I look at everyone else, there is a mix of expressions, ranging from Emory’s pulled-in eyebrows and Theo’s cringe.

“We just miss your banter,” Lorelei says, winding her hands together. “That’s all.”

“Trivia isn’t the same without the both of you,” Theo throws in. “Plus, I hate this choose-a-side thing. Like, I can’t text the original group chat because it’s weird, so we’ve had two separate group chats with either of you, and now, I have to basically text the same thing twice, and I get confused on who’s heard what and—”

I exhale. “I know.”

“You miss Ruby,” Lorelei says matter-of-factly.

“You do, don’t you?” Theo asks with a wince.

“I do,” I admit. “Of course I do. She is—was—my best friend.”

Another collective groan.

“Yikes, that hurts,” Quinn mutters under her breath, bringing her drink to her lips.

“Hey,” I caution, shooting her a look.

“Just know that we’re here for you,” Lorelei says quickly, “whatever you need.”

“Yeah, we’ll make sure you don’t cut and run on the big day, buddy,” Landon says with another pat.

This has the table bursting out in words of, “Landon!” and, “Don’t say that!” and a simple, “Nice,” from his girlfriend, Quinn.

I point between Landon and Quinn. “Two peas in a pod, I swear.”

They got together shortly after my engagement party a year ago, and I’m not sure why they waited so long, not when they egg each other on like they do.

“Is she at least coming to the bachelor party?” Theo asks.

“Oh.” My body deflates. “No.”

“What?!” Lorelei nearly shrieks. “But it’s at Honeywood! I rented out the whole park for us!”

“We do that all the time.”

“Yeah, but this time, it’s just us. The fab, uh …”

“Well, we’re not exactly the fab five anymore,” Quinn says with a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m doing math …” Lorelei says, pointing to all of us and then at the bar, where Orson is. “Eight of us.”

“Seven,” Emory corrects.

“Right, because, now, Ruby isn’t coming,” Quinn adds, shooting me an accusatory glance.

I run a hand over my eyes. When I told them I couldn’t see Ruby anymore, they understood. But as we’ve settled into the reality of what that truly means, how much social juggling it takes, they aren’t as agreeable anymore. Even Lorelei, the kindest woman in Cedar Cliff, twists her lips to the side when I bring up Jolene.

“Guys, I’m getting married. I did what I had to do to make my future wife happy. You don’t understand. And I don’t need your judgments for it.”

I’m doing what’s right by Jolene. She deserves better than what my mom got—a future of waiting. And I refuse to be Ben Shaw.

The real Ben Shaw still hasn’t responded to our wedding invite or anything since. Jolene stopped pushing me to respond after my birthday. Yet, somehow, it’s been easier and harder, all at once, to know that he is choosing to opt out of my life for good. Turns out, I’ve learned Mom’s lesson too. There’s no amount of waiting that will pay off with Ben Shaw.

“You’re right,” Emory says. “We don’t understand what you’re going through. So, we’ll drop it.” And then, with that look that only Emory can give, he glances around the table. “Right, everyone?”

They sigh in response.

“Fine,” Quinn says, jerking her drink up to her lips.

“We’ll drop it,” Lorelei agrees. “Never mention it again.”

But part of me hates the thought of never addressing it again. Because talking about my situation is the only time she feels real now. It’s the only time I can say her name. It’s the only time I get even a glimpse of her.

And I miss her so, so much.

* * *

“How was trivia?”

“Good.”

“Y’all win?”

I chuckle. “Not a chance. What are you looking at?”

I lean over the couch, peering at her laptop with our wedding’s RSVP list. My dad’s name is the only one still highlighted in yellow. Jolene gives me a weak smile. It takes everything in me to return it.

“How’d they feel about the hair?” she asks, running her fingers through it.

I’m still getting used to how soon the fingers are gone. There’s not much to thread through.

“Ah, not great,” I explain, then add, “But they were more concerned about the bachelor party anyway.”

“Are you excited about your bachelor party?” she asks.

“Sure.”

“Lies,” Jolene says, teasing her head toward me.

I chuckle. “You know big parties aren’t really my thing.”

“True.”

We sit in silence, letting the words flow over us. We’ve been doing that a lot lately. Just existing with the sound of our air-conditioning unit and the random whir of the refrigerator from the kitchen. I know all the insignificant noises of this house due to our lingering quiet.

“Okay.” Jolene claps her hands together, turning on the cushion with her knees tucked underneath her. “Well, I have a proposition for you.”

“Do I get to bypass the bachelor party altogether?”

Jolene laughs. “No, but …” Then, she smacks her lips together and exhales. “I think you should invite Ruby to your bachelor party.”

Hearing her name leave Jolene’s lips feels so incongruous. It’s like when the rides at Honeywood make announcements in another language, but keep the one native noun. It throws off the whole sentence.

Mantenga sus manos y pies dentro de The Grizzly en todo momento.

“You should invite Ruby to your bachelor party.”

“What?” I ask. “Invite Ruby?”

“You should.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head.

She laughs. “I’m asking you to.”

“But why?”

“She’s your best maiden or whatever,” Jolene says, clicking her tongue and looking away. “It wouldn’t be right.”

It seems nice enough, but something feels off about it. It’s how casual she’s saying it, compared to the last time when I could have sworn Ruby’s name was erased from Jolene’s vocabulary indefinitely. But even so, she is in fact smiling at me as she delivers this news.

She hikes her shoulders up to her ears in an exaggerated shrug. “Invite her. Really. I trust you for one night.”

One night.

It’s like a small itch on my neck I can’t scratch. Hell, I don’t even try to.

“Plus,” she says, winding a piece of string from her sleep pants through her fingers, “she RSVP’d for two.”

Bull’s-eye.

“She did?” I ask.

“Yes.”

I don’t know what hurts worse. The fact that Ruby has a boyfriend I haven’t met or that Jolene seems happy about it.

I swallow. “Well, good. Good for her.”

“That’s what I thought too. So”—she pats my arm—“go ahead and invite her, Ben.”

“Okay,” I say, my voice feeling more distant by the second. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Good.”

I don’t say anything more as Jolene gets up from the couch. I just continue leaning on the back of it, my hand absentmindedly traveling over my wrist, attempting to find its reliable piece of pink string, only to remember that there is nothing to grab anymore.

I removed my pink bracelet two months ago, and I haven’t felt the same since.