Kate

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The fourth already—how is that possible? And how am I so late? I mean, there’s one obvious explanation, but we’ve been safe every time. Mostly. Sort of. The condom from that first night in the hotel looked like it might’ve been riding around in Max’s wallet a while. But surely we’d have noticed if it broke?

Not much I can do about it right now. Carson’ll be over soon, and I’m hardly about to take a test here. No telling how Max might react, if he thinks—

“Kate?” He walks up behind me, toweling off his hair.

“Mm?”

“You looked thoughtful.” He takes my necklace from me and clasps it around my neck. “Dreaming of that chicken farm?”

I elbow him. “Not funny.”

“Too soon?”

“Little bit, yeah.” I slip into one of his shirts and button it most of the way. “You didn’t see him last night. It was sad. Like a Rottweiler that mauls your best friend, then begs for love all the way to the vet’s—and you know that’s a bad dog, and you have to put him down, but you still feel like shit.”

Max makes a pff sound. “Yeah, well, he’s always been a ninth-degree guilt master.” He pulls on his own shirt. “You know, he was driving me insane at the airport, on the way back from DC—all that whiny, poor-me crap. Couldn’t figure out why, at the time, but something about it wasn’t sitting right.”

I find myself nodding. “I’ve been seeing all his habits in the worst new light. Like, he’ll come out of the bathroom wiping his eyes like he’s been crying, or he’ll do these little sighs—but the second you try to ask him what’s wrong, he’ll be all, no—it’s nothing. Like, Ooh, I’m so brave.”

“And that works for him?”

“That’s the stupid part—it doesn’t. It’s annoying. I’d put up with it for the times when he’s, you know—normal Wes. Considerate Wes. But beyond that....” I hesitate as an unpleasant thought crosses my mind. “Unless... It depends what you mean by ‘works for him’. If all he wants is attention—if he’s somehow confusing pity with love—then, yeah. It does.”

“Sounds like Munchausen’s syndrome. You know, where you make yourself sick so everyone has to take care of you.”

“That’s exactly him.” I drop my skirt back on the bed. “I think he actually did that. Last year. I’m about to leave on vacation, and he calls me up, like, Ooooh, I can’t get out of bed—could you bring me some Gravol? And I get there, and he’s collapsed in the bathroom, and, what? I’m supposed to leave him like that?” I throw up my hands in disgust. “Nothing like cleaning puke off a grown man’s chin when you’re meant to be in the Bahamas.”

“You did that?”

“He was my best friend. I thought.” I sink down on the bed. “Worst part is, he’d do something like that, and I’d hate myself for resenting him. So I’d be even nicer to him—and he was probably faking it the whole time.”

Max straightens out my shirt, smoothing the sleeves over my arms. “We all fell for his bullshit.” He rearranges my collar. “I mean, what he went through in high school—You get so used to seeing someone as a victim, it’s easy to miss when it turns into something else.”

I pull Max down next to me and creep into his arms. “Why do I feel so bad?”

“You shouldn’t. None of us saw this coming.”

“Not like that.” I hide my face against his chest. “Every time I think about him, I get this awful, empty feeling, like I miss him.”

“Of course you do.” Max settles a hand on my back. “You miss the friend you thought you had. The one you have a lifetime’s worth of good memories with. It’s like that guy died last night.”

I close my eyes as the depth of my loss sinks in. “We did have good times. He was there for me—he was generous. And funny. And kind, even when he didn’t think anyone was looking.” And I’ll never be able to see him that way again, never be able to look back on any of those memories without feeling the sting of betrayal.

Max loops his arms around my waist. “Nobody’s pure evil. You’re allowed to mourn your friend.”

He’s right, of course. And I’ll need that—I’ll need time to grieve. But later. Once he’s caught. I take a deep, steadying breath and sit up. “Let’s put an end to this.”

“We’ll get him.”

Looking into Max’s eyes, I believe it.