“What do you mean it doesn't matter?” I lean forward. “Last I heard, you were planning some grand gesture to win her over.”
“Yeah, well.” He takes a long, slow sip of his whiskey. “That didn't go to plan.”
“Not surprised.” The voice comes from the front of the cabin, and I flick my gaze up to see Honey strutting down the aisle toward us. “When your grand gesture is stalking, I get why she doesn't want to see your crazy ass again.”
“Honey?” I blink, certain I'm seeing things. She takes the empty seat next to Asher, who takes my empty glass and puts it in front of her. He lifts the whiskey in question, and she nods with no emotion on her face.
“What are you—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“Thatcher called me,” she says, taking her own sip of whiskey. “Did you really think I wouldn't be here for the takedown of our fathers?”
Before I can answer, Asher elbows her playfully. “Hey, are youevergoing to call me Asher like the rest of our friends?”
Honey's eyes narrow to slits, and she looks at Asher like he just asked to see her tits-which, to be fair, he actually did once. He was a clueless sophomore with a cocky attitude, and she and I were seniors. Why he thoughtmy girlfriendwas the right person to ask is beyond me, but I can't hold it against him. The kick in the balls he got from Honey was punishment enough for it.
“You have never been my friend, Thatcher.”
The temperature in the cabin drops about twenty degrees.
“Friends would tell friends when their boyfriend is cheating on them behind their backs,” she continues, her voice sharp with annoyance. “You knew about all those girls Jamie was sleeping with and did nothing about it. Just covered for him like the loyal little sidekick you've always been.”
Asher backs all the way to the window, looking more frightened than I've ever seen him.
I flinch, shame burning hot in my chest over how I treated her. It's something I doubt I'll ever really get over. Still, they were my sins, and my friend shouldn't have to pay for them in death glares from my ex. “Honey, I—”
“Save it.” She holds up a hand. “I'm over what you did.”
Her gaze focuses back on Asher. “What I'mnotover is the people who treated me like shit. Who made me feel like I was crazy for suspecting something was wrong. Who gaslit me into thinking I was being paranoid while you two laughed about it behind closed doors.”
“We never laughed—” Asher starts, but Honey's facial expression doesn't change.
“Don't.” She points her finger at him, and they're so close, it makes Asher go cross-eyed. “Don't try to rewrite history, Thatcher. You were part of it. Youenabledit, and I won't pretend to be your friend just because we're all supposedly on the same side now.”
Her chest is heaving and so is Asher's as we sit in silence, letting her words sink in. Or, at least I am. Asher's eyes are roaming Honey like he's just seen her for the first time.
“Fuck, Honey. When the hell did you get so hot?”
“Oh, for fuck's sake,” she says, shaking her head. “Nothing went into that tiny pea brain of yours, did it?”
Asher raises his hands. “I'm just saying, if you ever get bored of that football player, I'm here, and I play hockey. Rumor has it, we're better in bed. Got more stamina.”
Honey's eyes widen, her mouth opens, and she huffs out the most annoyed breath I've ever heard from her. “Unbelievable.”
“Honey,” I cut in, attempting to save my friend from more humiliation. “I'm sorry. For all of it. For making Asher complicit in my bullshit. For treating you like you were disposable. For—”
“I know.” Her expression softens just slightly, as she settles in her seat. “I know you're sorry. I've heard it before.” She takes a breath. “That's why I'm here. Our parents don't get to win this time, and I'm not letting you fight them alone.”
The pilot's voice crackles over the intercom, announcing our imminent departure. I buckle my seatbelt, my brain still trying to process that Honey—the girl I destroyed, the girl I treated like garbage—is here to helpme.
“Girl's right.” Asher lifts his glass, looking between the two of us with a wide smile. “It's about time someone stood up to your families. They've been wreaking havoc all over the golf club for decades.”
“I don’t deserve this,” I say quietly. “But—thank you. For being here.”
She lets out a quiet breath through her nose. “You’re right. You don’t deserve it.”
Then she meets my eyes. “But your daughter doesn’t deserve what they’re trying to do. Neither does Tiff.”
“You’re right. This isn’t about me,” I say. “I just need to make sure Ella’s safe. That she gets to stay where she’s loved. With her mom.”