In the kitchen, awkward silence descended like the dust floating down from the ceiling. Tyler shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying to swallow the urge to follow after Miranda. He shot the other two a glance. Naomi – still seated at the kitchen table - stared at Miranda's last spot in the hallway. Her expression seemed to wobble between exasperation and concern.
Unable to handle the pressure, Jack raised his plastic bag laden arms. The bags rattled with his movement, gaining Naomi's attention. “Here's the food.”
“Ooh,” she cooed clapping her hands together with exaggerated joy, “Did you make sure to get the chocolate and mustard?”
Jack grinned, “And then some.”
“We also picked up some beer.” Tyler grinned, holding up the box that held the cans. He tore the side of the box and coaxed out a beer. Turning to Naomi, he waggled his treat, “Want one?”
“Um,” her gaze flickered to the beer and, then, to the floor. She seemed to struggle with an internal debate. With her gaze averted, he threw a curious glance to Jack. After a much-too-long pause, she turned her gaze to Tyler, then to Jack. There seemed to be a worry glinting in her blue eyes as a half-smile quirked her lips upward. “No, not after today. I think I'll hold off.”
A bell went off in Tyler's head. His suspicion was beginning to solidify. “You sure?”
“Positive,” she said, a grateful smile twitched at her lips. Mild annoyance peppered her tone, though.
A creak whined down the hall as a door opened. Tyler's eyes darted to the entryway, waiting with bated breath. Miranda reemerged, dressed in a tank top, low-slung yoga pants, and flip-flops. The blush hadn't left her features, and neither had her sour expression. Her gaze lit on Naomi.
“We'll go put the groceries away,” sputtered Jack, heaving the bags toward the cabinets. He and Tyler beat a hasty retreat to the farthest reach of the kitchen.
Miranda sidled up to her friend, watching the men fumble with some groceries. She leered at the food, wondering if that had been what gained them entry into her friend's apartment. “So, what are these two doing here?”
“I texted them,” Naomi replied, breezily.
“What?” Miranda's gaze shot to the blonde's face, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”
The blonde shrugged, still watching as the men bumbled about her kitchen. She seemed intent on avoiding Miranda's gaze. “They were worried about me.”
“What about time to think?” Miranda hissed, crossing her arms. Irritated fires dotted across her thoughts. Why had she made such a big deal about them at the hospital? Agitation clawed at Miranda's chest. She didn't like this one bit.
“I did think and I wanted to see them, Miranda.” Naomi finally shot her friend a look. Her fingers tapped against the tabletop, playing a tattoo of irritation.
Her handle lost on the situation, Miranda couldn't help her venom-saturated reply. “Well, thanks for the heads up.”
“Thanks for acting like an adult about this,” countered Naomi, her voice dropping low. It didn't matter how soft her voice became, though. Jack and Tyler were listening in and they could feel the atmosphere whip with electric anger.
Miranda's face bled red again. She jerked back under Naomi's words, hurt and enraged. What the hell was she thinking? First she wanted the men gone; then she invited them over. Naomi knew how Tyler affected her! Miranda turned sharply, storming from the kitchen. Before she could cross the threshold, Naomi jumped off her chair. “Where are you going?”
“If you want the biker brigade,” snapped Miranda, half-turning in the entryway, “then there's no reason for me to stay!”
“Fine!” Naomi scream followed her down the hall, ballooning behind her. The words pressed into Miranda's back, rushing her as she gathered up her overnight bag.
She cursed to herself under her breath, tears burning at the back of her eyes. The situation wobbled out of control and Miranda couldn't understand why. Naomi was a good friend. Why would she blind-side her? Pain throbbed through her chest and sunk into her thoughts. This wasn't fair.
A small voice chimed in her head, under the slew of sadness and frustration. It chirped about her own failings, her own misgivings. Her inability to face Tyler was her own fault, not Naomi's. That didn't make the pain lessen.
Within moments, Miranda careened out of the apartment, bag on her shoulder. The door slammed shut behind her, making the glasses in the cabinet rattle and clink. Naomi glared at her from her spot in the kitchen, feet planted and hands curled into fists at her sides.
Jack scuttled closer to the blonde. His big palm patted her shoulder. “Uh, everything okay?”
She turned to face him, her demeanor crumbling. Her scowl melted into a wobbling frown as tears brimmed in her eyes. She threw herself into Jack's arms, heaving sobs wracked through her body. Over the blonde head, he exchanged a wide-eyed, helpless look with Tyler.
“I'm going to go check on Mir,” he announced. “Take care of Naomi.”
“Wait, Tyler!”
Jack's fretful yelp cut short as the door slammed shut behind Tyler. His pounding feet matched his thrumming heartbeat. Echoing footfalls, farther below and ahead of him, indicated exactly where Miranda was. The clank of the metal door as she left the building resounded after her. Tyler sighed, hoping she'd return to her apartment. Otherwise, he wasn't sure how to catch up with her.