Page 8 of A Thousand Little Goodbyes

That got Chrissie moving again. She yanked the phone out of Scarlett’s hands and prayed that autocorrect would make up for the tremors that rendered her typing incoherent.

Please don’t bring him into your house. He’ll pee on everything you own.

I don’t mind.

I MIND. I MIND VERY MUCH.

“Well, really, Chrissie.” Scarlett tsked lightly. “I don’t see what yelling at the poor man is going to do. He just wants to take care of your pussycat.”

“That isnotfunny. You have no idea how much I’m already asking of him. If you’d ever been in a room with Kat and Lily at the same time, you’d understand. It’s like playing passive aggressive ping-pong with two world champions. Only instead of trying to hit the balls over a net, they’re aiming death blows at each other’s heads.”

As if listening in, another text came through.

The girls are settling in great together, btw. I’m glad you’re having fun. You deserve it.

“Oh, helikesyou,” Scarlett said as she read the words aloud. “And even better, he knows exactly how to handle you. I approve of this one.”

Chrissie resented the implication that she could be handled by anyone, let alone a man, but she allowed herself to be led into the warm, sulfurous pool without putting up much of a fight. For one thing, the water felt heavenly, like a bath that had been poured out too hot and allowed the perfect amount of time to cool.

For another, well…

“I can’t date Kat’s volleyball coach, Scarlett.”

“Why not?”

Chrissie dipped lower into the water, letting herself sink until the steaming heat swirled around her face and hid the worst of her blushes. Scarlett would take one look at them and start circling like a shark detecting blood.

“Because Kat hates his daughter with the passion of a thousand fiery suns. Because she’s already mortified by my every word and action.” Chrissie hesitated a moment before adding the last one. “And because he’s the closest thing to a father figure she’s ever had. Walsh has been her coach for over half a decade. If I mess up that relationship for her, she’ll never forgive me—which would be fine, because I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself. You know how hard it’s been not having her dad in her life.”

Scarlett groaned. “Ugh.Grimshaw. Don’t even get me started on that walking heap of pretention.”

Chrissie had no intention of doing so. The last time Scarlett had gotten started on Kat’s biological father, Chrissie had been forced to turn off her Wi-Fi so the police wouldn’t be able to trace the “how to hire a hit man” Google searches back to her.

“Besides, I think half the reason Walsh flirts with me is because he knows I won’t take things too far,” Chrissie explained. “I’m his safe space. The other single moms have been on the catch for him for years—and they’re none too subtle about it, either.”

“Hmm.” Scarlett pursed her lips before settling into a seat built into the rocky wall of the pool.

Chrissie was instantly on the alert. “What’s that supposed to mean? Why do you suddenly look so devious?”

“No reason,” Scarlett said in a voice so musical that Chrissie didn’t trust it for a second. “I was just thinking that if I hadn’t pressured you every day for a month to be my best friend, the two of us wouldn’tbe sitting here right now. You’re not an easy nut to crack, Chrissie Thomas, but you’re well worth the effort once you do.”

Scarlett’s smile took on a decidedly self-satisfied air. “And I think this precious Walsh of yours might already know it.”

Chapter FourPortland, OR

1999

Chrissie came back to the hospital every day for three weeks.

Not always to see Scarlett, of course. In fact, she almostnevercame to see Scarlett, but Scarlett would beg and plead until Chrissie had no choice but to pop into her room from the family center or cafeteria or, as was most often the case, her brother’s room at the end of the hall.

“I saved you my Jell-O cup from lunch,” she’d say as she handed over that day’s offering—orange or lime most of the time, but sometimes strawberry, which was ultra rare and therefore everyone’s favorite. “Wanna play checkers with me? Or you could climb into my bed and we could watch the Disney Channel together.”

Most of the time, Scarlett’s tricks worked. With her brother almost always asleep and her parents busy with his doctors, Chrissie was free to play as many games as she wanted, her face screwed up in concentration as she plotted out her next moves across the checkerboard. They rarely talked about anything—or at least, Chrissie rarely talked—but Scarlett was happy to fill in the gap. She was quick to learn which topics were safe (Chrissie played the piano and loved the ocean, herallegiance torn equally between the two) and which were dangerous (her parents, her brother, her brother, herbrother).

“Is Chrissie coming to visit today?” she asked Nurse Penny after two long, boring days had passed without even a glimpse of her. “I’m going home soon, and I want to make sure I give her my phone number before I leave. We’re gonna hang out and visit the ocean together once I’m all better.”

That was when the worst possible thing happened. Nurse Pennysmiled.