The Remedy Read Free

Aaron says with a defiant smirk. “It ain’t cool. You two—”
    “Stooooop,” I whine, cutting him off. “Change the subject. Deacon and I are broken up. End of story.” I stuff my contacts case back into my bag and drop it down by my feet. The traffic has faded from the freeway, leaving the dark road empty around us.
    “I’m not saying you should hate each other,” Aaron continues. “But you shouldn’t want to bone every time you see him either.”
    “You have serious problems, you know that, right?”
    “Mm-hmm,” he says, nodding dismissively. “Yeah, I’m the one with problems.” He whistles out a low sound of sympathy, looking sideways at me. “You’ve both got it bad,” he adds.
    “No,” I tell him. “We’re both better off. Remind Deacon of that next time he’s checking up on me.” Aaron scoffs and swears he’s staying out of it. He won’t, of course. He thinks we’re still pining for each other. And . . . he may not be entirely wrong. But Deacon and I have a very platonic understanding.
    Deacon Hatcher is my ex-boyfriend turned best friend, but more important, he used to be a closer. He gets it. Gets me. Deacon was my partner before Aaron, almost three years side by side until he quit working for my dad eight months ago. He quit me the same day. The breakup may have wrecked me a little. Or a lot. Deacon and I had shared everything, had a policy of total honesty, which isn’t exactly easy for people in our line of work.
    I hadn’t even known he’d ended his contract with the grief department when he told me we were over, said he’d moved on. I assumed he meant with another girl, so we didn’t speak for over a month. I’d been blindsided, betrayed. Only thing left for me was closure, and I was damn good at it. I absorbed more of my assignments’ lives, their families’ love. I rebuilt my self-esteem with their help, their memories. Then my father assigned Aaron as my new partner.
    The next day, Deacon showed up at my front door, saying how sorry he was. Saying how desperately he missed me. I believed him. I always believe him. But every time we get close—the very minute I fall for him again—Deacon cuts me off, backs away, and leaves me brokenhearted by the absence of his affection. Whether it’s his training or his natural disposition, Deacon is charming. The kind of charming that makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world who matters. Until you don’t anymore.
    I’m tired of the push and pull that continues to crack and heal over the same scar. I told Deacon that I was done letting myself be vulnerable to him, that he was ruining me. The thought seemed to devastate him. So Deacon and I agreed not to get back together, but acknowledged that we couldn’t stay away from each other either. Best friends is the compromise. It lets us go to the very edge of our want without actually going over. And that works for us. We’re totally screwed up that way.
    From the center console Aaron’s phone vibrates in the cup holder. He quickly grabs it before I do, and rests it against the wheel while he reads the text. After a moment he clicks off the screen and drops his phone back into the cup holder. “Myra says hello,” he says, glancing over. “She’s super excited for you to be back.”
    “I’m sure,” I say, flashing him an amused smile. Aaron’s girlfriend is barely five feet tall, with wide doelike eyes and a red-hot temper. She used to hate me—which, under normal circumstances, could be understandable. I spend a lot of time with her boyfriend. We’re over it now, and the entire situation became a running joke between me and Aaron. And although Myra might still hate me a little , she’s one of my closest friends. But everything will change soon. This is Aaron’s last month as a closer—his contract ends in four weeks. After that, he and Myra are going to run off and live some deranged life in one of the Dakotas.
    “Any chance I can talk you into