Ally placed her hands over her ears and changed, “La-la-la, not-listening-to-the-story-of-my-brother-proposing-while-doing-the-nasty-one-more-time, la-la-la.

The Kevster’s a friend,” I shared with Ren.

At my words, Ren’s brows shot together and he asked, “The Kevster?”

“His preferred handle,” I explained.

Ren looked to the ceiling. I figured he did this because Ren might be a member of a crime family but he reeked class. He likely had no friends with “handles.” Or that smoked doobies. And I didn’t ask because I was scared of the answer, but there was a high probability Ren would not like The Big Lebowski and that might mean I’d have to question his taste. Since he very much liked the taste of me, I didn’t want to do that.

God gave us a variety of ways to get hurt out and do it clean. Blood cleans a wound. Tears clean a different kind of wound. You might not like it, Frannie, but you shouldn’t stop yourself from doing it. Clean the wound so it can heal. Then move on.

Hold on tight, Cherie

She stared.
Then she busted out laughing.
And that was it.
All that he needed.
Cher was laughing.
Garett was calm.

Go to him, Sweet Pea.