Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
I walk in and head up the stairs. Mandy’s family lives in a small three-level that was built in the seventies. Only three bedrooms upstairs, and I know which one is hers. It’s been hers since we were little kids.
“Mandy?” I knock on her door.
She doesn’t reply.
I crack the door open. “Mandy?”
“Go away.”
Something’s wrong. I open the door. Mandy is on her bed, under the covers, her head buried in her pillow.
I sit down next to her, rub her back through the covers. “Mandy Cake? You okay?”
“What are you doing here, Jack?” she chokes out.
“I’m leaving this afternoon. I just wanted to—”
“We already said goodbye.”
“I know. I just…I needed to see you once more. I’m really going to miss you, Mandy Cake.”
“I’ll miss you, too. Now go.”
“No. You face me. You tell me goodbye one more time.”
“Jack, we already went through this last night.”
“I know, but it wasn’t enough. You’re my best friend. How am I going to get along without you?”
“You’ll be fine.”
“You’re the one I tell everything to.”
No response. Just a sniffle.
“Mandy…”
She lifts her head then, turns to me. Her face is swollen and red, her eyes bloodshot.
My heart falls. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Jack. Nothing is wrong.”
“Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”
“You can’t fix this, Jack.”
“You have to let me try.”
She shakes her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. “You, of all people, can never fix this.”
“But that’s what we do. You fix me and I fix you. We’re two sides of the same coin. You’re the other half of me, Mandy.”
She chokes back a sob, and then she nods. “Don’t forget that, Jack. Don’t you ever forget that you’re the other half of me.”
She falls into me then and hugs me as I continue rubbing her back.
A few moments later, after we say goodbye again, I leave her house.
I drive to college.
…
I didn’t give that conversation another thought for eleven years. Not until now.
The other half of me.
They were my words, not hers, and they were the words that made her stop crying.
It was always so easy to dismiss how much Mandy meant to me. She was always there when I needed to talk, but when things were going well—with football, with college, with my woman of the month—I didn’t need her.
Only when things got tough.
She was there. Every single time.
She’s been the one constant in my life—other than my parents—for nearly all my twenty-nine years.
That’s why I went to her last night. Because she’s Mandy. Because I can tell her what’s wrong, and she’ll fix it. Or I can tell her nothing—as I did last night—and she’ll take care of me anyway.
Maybe Ben is right. Maybe I feel more than I’ve been willing to admit all this time.
Maybe…
I grab my phone and call her.
Damn. Voicemail.
This is Mandy. You know the drill. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.
I clear my throat. “Hey, Mandy—” I stop myself from adding the Cake. “It’s me. I…need to talk to you. It’s important. Call me, okay?”
I’m still in my workout clothes from this morning, so I head down to the street and run. I run and run and run to clear my head.
And I wait for Mandy to return my call.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Amanda
After Michael kicked my ass for an hour, he asked if he could see me again, not as a trainer.
I said yes.
I said yes because Jack and I are never going to happen. I said yes because I need to get on with my life.
I said yes because it was empowering.
Michael is the first magnificently good-looking man who has ever shown any kind of interest in me. I’m not going to screw it up. He didn’t make a date with me yet, so I’m back at my place, and the workout has left me oddly euphoric. Oh, I’m going to feel it tomorrow, but tonight? I need to do something.
My gaze falls on my laptop sitting on the counter.
Lustr…
I want to go back to that club.
Of course, the chance of me meeting someone who will take me down there is in the one percent range, but why not try?
First, I need some better clothes. I was just at Macy’s with Frankie this morning, but they don’t carry the kind of garments I’m after. In fact, I have no idea where to get leather and lace and whatever else. But this is what the internet is for. Two clicks later, I find a store—a lingerie shop, actually, but they also stock leather goods.
Treasure’s Chest. An interesting name. Two subway stops away, and I’m there. It’s a tiny hole-in-the-wall that looks rather unassuming from the outside.
Inside, though? I feel like I just walked into a mannequin dungeon.
A smiling clerk with pretty auburn hair walks toward me. “Good afternoon.”
“Hi.”
“Are you looking for anything specific today?”
My cheeks are on fire. I’m sure my blush is candy-apple red. She’s here to help, so I should just tell her what I want.