Chapter 15: Furniture

Delaney slept on Hattie's couch, and I did not sleep at all.

At seven the next morning I walked her into the Fir Cone through the front door.

Every booth was full, and the counter had no empty stools.

Conall stood just inside the entrance with his arms folded, and he had promised me he would say nothing.

Hattie's grandfather was frying eggs behind the pass with his back very straight.

The room went quiet in the way I was learning to expect.

Delaney's eyes were swollen.

She had washed off the bright lipstick, and without it her mouth looked small.

"Say it where Braden said his," I told her. "At the counter."

"Cass, please. Can't we..."

"You wanted an audience on Saturday."

She swallowed and stepped up to the register, holding her phone in both hands.

"I posted the clip," Delaney said.

Her voice cracked, and she tried again.

"I posted it on purpose. I wasn't drunk, and nobody stole my phone. I sent it to the pack chat myself."

"Why?" Hattie said from behind the register.

It was the flattest voice I had ever heard from her.

"Because he kept saying after the birthday," Delaney said. "Then after the holidays. Then after the Thirtieth."

"I thought if she saw it in front of everyone, he would have to choose."

She looked at me, and the tears came down.

"I thought you'd be hurt for a week and then you'd be fine."

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