This one's not as long as the last, but it will have to hold you over for a bit. I have a busy few weeks. I hope to update in two weeks. Sometime the week of the 17th (fingers crossed). Happy Passover, Happy Easter, Happy Spring- pick your salutation :)

Chapter 8: A Rough Start

The days following Christmas found Rachel drowning in her own sorrow. They were the last few days she had the apartment to herself to be as she needed to be before she promised she would be normal again… Live like nothing happened, but it was hard to put on the show face, and, while no one was there, she was free to feel openly without worry. For her, that meant barely getting out of bed, not eating, and spending copious amounts of time scrubbing her skin raw in the bath.

Her paranoia was at an all-time high. She constantly found herself looking over her shoulder when she walked to work. It didn't help that Jasper sent her a text that set her off.

I miss you, it said. I'll be back in town soon.

When more came, she hid the phone away, not acknowledging it unless necessary. That also meant ignoring everyone else.

She rearranged her entire work schedule to be on evening shifts all the time. That meant she would go to classes, go to work, and come home to hopefully pass out. It left little time to think. That worked with her grief, she hoped it worked with… this.

Being so busy that she was dead on her feet had been her new normal. The change in work hours also put her on work schedules opposite of Santana and Kurt most days. One way to keep things hidden and sustain the show face… a lack of face time.

She loved Kurt and, God help her, she even loved Santana. It wasn't even that she didn't want to tell them what happened. She just wasn't processing it. She didn't know how to truly admit it to herself, let alone them. Sometimes, it felt like her voice was stolen. She just didn't have the words. Even if she did, it all felt like it was her fault. It was her fault, and how could she explain that? How could she explain that she brought this on herself?

She didn't want to even think about it, so she didn't want to talk about it.

When they came home together on Saturday afternoon, Rachel was deep into her new routine. Their plan was to do the roomie gift swap that day, but Rachel put it off saying she picked up extra shifts – which was true – and it would have to wait until the morning.

She didn't expect to find Kurt up and waiting for her when she got home late Saturday night.

"Where have you been?"

His voice startled her, and, though she immediately recognized it as his, sent her into a place of bad thoughts.

"Kurt?! Don't do that. You scared me."

"I scared you? No, you scared us. You haven't been answering any of our calls or texts all day. Your shift ended two hours ago. Where were you?"

"I don't know, Dad. Out. Why does it matter?"

"It matters because we were worried."

"Santana was so worried she's not even here," Rachel countered.

"She's sleeping like both of us should be. She has the opening shift tomorrow."

"Then why are you awake?"

"Because I'm worried about you. I've been worried about you for the past two weeks."

"I don't know why…"

She turned her face away. She was failing at the one thing she said she wouldn't. She wasn't ready to talk. She didn't want anyone to know. She was… Embarrassed. She didn't need one of the only good friends she had to be disgusted with her too.

"I'm fine, Kurt. Just tired."

Rachel couldn't face him, and that worried Kurt more. He had known Rachel for years now. She was dramatic, emotional, and amazing. Now, she just seemed… Blank. She was devoid of her usually overdramatic flair. Rather, she was going out of her way to be less dramatic, to attract less attention.

That just wasn't who Rachel was.

"Are you ok, Rachel?"

"I'm fine," she lied.

"You've barely talked to any of us in weeks, Rachel. Usually you don't stop talking."

He paused and reached for her shoulder, quickly pulling away when she nearly jumped a foot away.

Quietly, he told her, "You haven't been yourself."

Still not looking at him, she said, "I haven't been myself since Finn died. None of us have."

"That's true, but before all this, you'd been more like yourself than you have the last few weeks. Why won't you talk to me? Or your dads?"

"I have talked to my dads, but I don't want to hear them lie to me."

Now Rachel was facing Kurt. Just like with Shelby, she had this one piece of knowledge that helped cover some of her emotional baggage.

"Lie to you about what?"

"About being happy. They like to pretend, but they're not fooling me."

"What are you talking about?"

"They're getting divorced!"

"What?"

"Yeah. I think it's been rough for a while, but it got worse when I left for New York. I think they were going to tell me months ago, but then Finn died. Since then…. It's just all an act, Kurt. I know they love me, but I don't want to deal with it right now."

"I'm sorry. Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure, Kurt. They were great dads – still are – but I'm not clueless. There were signs. When they weren't focused on me, they bickered a lot. They took separate trips sometimes just to get away from each other. When we went on the cruise last winter, my dads took turns staying with me because they said they missed me too much."

"I didn't know."

"Why would you? It is what it is, Kurt."

She shook her head.

"I don't really want to talk about it right now. I'm tired. It's been a long day."

"Ok," he acquiesced. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Kurt," she said as she began walking away. "See you tomorrow."

Kurt watched as she left, bewildered. He didn't understand what was going on with her. It was more than the potential divorce, more than Finn's death, and more than the combination of the two. There was something there he wasn't seeing, a piece of the puzzle he was missing.

It scared him. He worried that Rachel was more a shell of herself now than she was right after Finn's death. That was saying a lot. He didn't know what to do if she wouldn't talk to him. But he and Santana talked. They had a plan B… or maybe D?

For now, all he could do was go to bed and wait, hoping she would talk to him.

She didn't. Not really, at least not the next day or the day after that or any of the coming days.

He and Santana got up early to make sure they caught Rachel. She heard them whispering through her locked door and decided she would have to face them sometime and to get it over with. Putting on her show face, she didn't fight them too much. They got her to sit still long enough to talk about their trip, do the roomie gift exchange, and enjoy breakfast that she helped cook.

It was hard for them not to notice Rachel's lack of eating.

"Shouldn't you eat before work?"

"Not hungry," Rachel said, eyeing Santana.

What business was it of hers? She didn't need her diet monitored. She didn't need anything about her life monitored.

"You're going to be starving later."

"Good thing we work at a diner, then."

Rachel sighed. Santana changed the subject, trying to get more information about how Rachel hurt her arm. She didn't buy the whole, "I fell" thing Rachel spewed. Rachel just told her that she already explained what happened and she wasn't going to do it again.

At least, Santana thought, she could still aggravate Rachel, so that was the same.

"I really like my new robe. Thank you, Santana. I'll definitely use it later."

"Good."

The whole conversation felt… off. It wasn't so much forced as it was just not right. Santana didn't like that. They bickered and argued, but that was part of their charm. This over-pleasant, nice thing that was happening wasn't them.

"See what I mean?" Kurt asked her as soon as Rachel left. "It's weird."

"Definitely weird."

"And she spent the holidays with Shelby. Shelby, Santana. She hasn't talked to her in a while. I still don't know what went on there."

"Maybe it's just the time of year. With the holidays and the adrenaline wearing off after her showcase… Let's just give her some time," Santana said, though she didn't think time would solve anything.

Over the days leading up to New Year's, Santana and Kurt noticed several things. First, Rachel was rarely home when they were. She worked late, spent the days at school prepping for her winter TA position, and crashed when she was home. Second, her phone was blowing up. When she was around, she barely looked at her phone, but it kept buzzing.

"Are you going to answer whoever keeps texting," Santana asked during their movie night – the one time they cornered Rachel into spending uninterrupted time with them.

"They're not texts," Rachel lied, "They're just notifications and calendar reminders."

"Sure."

That didn't stop Kurt or Santana from trying to get a peek at the notifications. Too bad she had it set so the notifications weren't readable when the phone was locked.

The third thing they noticed was that she didn't like going out anymore. Instead of buying the occasional coffee at the small café they found down the street, she took a thermos every morning. Beyond that, when she wasn't working or at school, she was home and likely, holed up in her bedroom. This wasn't too worrying. It was cold and money was tight, but in combination with everything else, it was questionable.

The fourth and most concerning thing they noticed was that she was quiet. Rachel was many things, but quiet was rarely one of them. Their chatter box, rambler of a friend barely strung together a few sentences when they forced her to talk.

It was so unlike her, and it was driving them crazy. Even Santana, who thought for sure shutting Rachel up would give her nothing but joy, couldn't stand it. Sometimes, getting her to have any true conversation with them was like pulling teeth.

But then she surprised them. Not by talking much at all, but by taking the initiative to plan an outing.

"Any plans for New Year's Eve?"

"I work in the morning," Rachel told them. "You?"

"Me too, but Santana and I were going to head out to a party. I ran into Jasper yesterday and he invited us all to a soiree at his place. He said he tried to invite you, but you haven't answered any of his messages."

Her heart stopped. She could feel her body tense and the rush of blood through her veins.

"Do you want to go?" Kurt asked.

"No… No. I… can't."

Her thoughts raced. He was talking to her friends… He was talking to them about her…

She felt on the verge of a heart attack, but it was a pain and nuisance she had become all too accustomed to. She was doing everything she could not to completely lose it in front of them. It was bad enough that Shelby saw. She didn't want anyone else to see. More than the fear she had for herself, she worried what could happen to Santana, or, hell, even Kurt if they went to that party. What would Jasper do to them? She couldn't let anything happen.

"Rachel… Hey, are you alright?"

"Fine… Fine… Um. Don't go to that party. I have a better idea."

Her words were rushed with an insincere excitement.

"I know you wanted to see the ball drop in Times Square last year. Let's do that this year."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Santana too, if you want."

Santana rolled her eyes and said, "Whatever. I'm in."

"Great. Great…"

She could feel some tension leave her body, though there was still a pressure in her chest and her nails dug so deeply into her palms that she drew blood.

"We can meet up after work and make it a thing. We'll talk later though. I… Have to go."

Rachel quickly disappeared behind her bedroom door. As soon as the door shut behind her, she completely lost her shit. The panicked breaths, the tears she forced down… all of it was spilling out. She didn't know what was wrong with her. This kept happening. Sometimes without any reason. She just… She was just damaged goods.

Nothing about her was ok. She couldn't say how long she was on the floor, leaning against her door, trying to catch her breath and feel human again, but once she did and finally unclasped her hands, a little trickle of red fell on to her pants.

"Damn it," she hissed, touching the red splotch and making the stain worse.

Rachel was frustrated and scared and a whole plethora of emotions that she couldn't sort through or handle. She was a mess. Even she knew that. No amount of acting could hide it all. But, in that moment, she was just so angry. Angry at herself, at everything.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to… let loose, but she couldn't. All she could manage was a grunted cry between rough breaths.

A gentle rap on her door made her pause.

"Rachel?"

Kurt…

"I'm getting changed. What's up Kurt?"

"Are you okay?"

"Fine."

She just wished people would stop asking her that.

"We're going to Bean Place for coffee. Do you want to come?"

"No… I have to run to NYADA to pick up a key for next week. I'll see you at work, though."

On the other side of the door, Kurt shared a look with Santana. Rachel was lying. She got the classroom key already. They just didn't know why she was lying and weren't sure how she would react if they called her out on it. It put Santana in a particularly weird place because she was never concerned about calling people out, especially Rachel, but the whole situation wasn't right.

They acted as they thought was best and went on as if they didn't know better. Rachel showed up to work and they all got through their one shared shift of the week.

Rachel was really putting on a show. To anyone who didn't know her, she had them fooled. She was normal. But to those who lived with her or knew her, it was clear something was off. If only she would have told them.

Now they were all home. They convinced Rachel to come back to the apartment instead of… well, they weren't sure where she planned to go. Rachel wasn't sure either, she just knew she couldn't keep up the act forever, and it was easier to be away from them.

Kurt and Santana tried to subtly probe to no avail. Rachel engaged, but it was stale and empty. The only time they got more than a few words strung together was when she was discussing their New Year plans. They were spending the whole day in Time's Square. They had to if they wanted to be in a good spot for the ball drop.

They were keen to do whatever Rachel wanted because at least she was showing some interest. It was a project she could throw herself into and she did. But it was a mess the next day.

Even early, it was crowded. They stuck together as best they could, but it was too overwhelming for Rachel. Immediately, her thoughts jumped to the idea that he could be there. He could be there, find her, and get to her. Any one of the other men could be just as bad.

"Keep it together, Rachel. You can't burst out into song here," Santana teased.

Rachel couldn't breathe. She kept bumping into people, men bigger and stronger and more imposing than her. She was the pin ball being flung from one danger to the next. She couldn't take it. Her eyes darted around to the thousands of people surrounding her like a stampede. Her friends seemed to have no problem being manhandled and pushed around.

"I can't be here," Rachel muttered, searching for Santana or Kurt.

"Hey Midget, here," Santana appeared passing her a flask. "Thought we'd keep things interesting."

Santana and Kurt watched with wide eyes as Rachel sucked back the contents like it was lifesaving medication.

"Slow down," Santana said, pulling the flask away. "That's tequila."

Without taking a sip of her own, Santana put the flask away. Eyes narrowed, Kurt asked if everything was alright.

Rachel leaned into her liquid courage and said, "Time to party."

They did… Kind of. But it was a disaster. The later it got, the drunker Rachel became. They had found a group of people around their age to hang with. They came stocked with a liquor store that Rachel was all too ready to sample.

"Maybe we should go home," Kurt said, watching a drunk Rachel go for another drink.

"She's ok," Santana responded, trying to convince them both. "She's just… letting loose."

"Right. She's letting loose. It's such a Rachel thing to do."

"Let's just try to have fun. She is."

"That doesn't look fun to me."

Rachel looked like a scared animal. The drinks helped keep the panic just on the periphery.

Their new friends corralled them into another round cheering to the new year. They even got to sing, which they were sure would make Rachel ecstatic.

Time zipped by, and, while they kept a close eye on Rachel, at some point, they misplaced her. The crowd around them was rowdy. They tried calling, but there was no way she could hear it with the noise.

"Should we be worried? She was drinking a lot."

"I don't know about you, Santana, but I've been worried. Not going to stop now."

"Keep trying to call. I'm going to ask the tall dude… Lurch or Butch or whatever if he saw her."

"Be nice, San."

They asked and looked, and Rachel was still missing. The countdown to midnight was getting closer, and Rachel was just gone.

"No answer still," Kurt told Santana when they met up again. "What's wrong?"

"My Latina third eye is telling me something's not right."

"Wonderful," Kurt said, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe we should go home."

"This softer side of you might scare me more than Rachel's recent… darkness."

"Shut up."

"It's minutes to 12. Let's stay for the countdown."

Reluctantly, Santana nodded, but her mind stayed on Rachel thinking about every moment over the last few weeks to pinpoint exactly when things changed. It was around the showcase. But when?

When the ball dropped and the next year officially began, it didn't feel like a celebration. Instead, they were both ready to go home. They hoped Rachel was there.

Silence filled the journey. Both tried texting and calling Rachel a few times. She was home… She had to be. And they were right, but they weren't expecting what they found.

"Rachel? You here?"

"Rachel?" Santana called out.

With no answer, Kurt said he was going to check her room.

Santana barely acknowledged him and looked around the apartment. Her door was open, and she knew she closed it before leaving.

Slowly stepping into her bedroom, Santana called out, "Rachel?"

There she was, curled up in a ball on the ground in her room.

"Rachel? What's wrong," she asked, running to her friend.

Rachel couldn't utter a single word. She was hiccupping for breaths, face covered in tears. Rachel barely registered that Santana was there.

"Hey, it's ok," Santana whispered. "You're ok."

Her words fell on deaf ears. When she wrapped her arms around Rachel, Santana could feel the girl tense up and try to push her away, but Santana wouldn't allow it. She squeezed Rachel harder, allowing her friend to fall into her hold.

Rachel shook in Santana's grasp. Santana whispered to breathe, that everything would be ok, but she didn't know if that was true. She had no idea what was happening.

Kurt, standing in the bedroom doorway, locked eyes with Santana. She motioned for him to leave before Rachel saw him. Rachel would be upset enough without feeling embarrassed for losing it in front of them both. Then, she was more worried about getting Rachel to calm down than anything else.

It took almost an hour of Rachel hiccupping, crying, and dry heaving to calm. She exhausted herself to the point she fell asleep in Santana's arms. When Rachel was finally asleep, Santana gently moved her to the bed and looked at the clock. It was almost 2 am. She was tired, tipsy, and now, a little scared too. She tucked Rachel in, monitoring the grimace on the girl's face before going out into the living room.

Kurt was waiting for her.

"What the hell was that?" he asked.

"I have no idea."

"Did she say anything?"

"Are you kidding? She could barely breath, never mind talk. I didn't get anything out of her."

"Do you think something happened?"

Eyes narrowed, she snapped, "Obviously something happened."

He rolled his eyes.

"That was… That was scary to see."

"Imagine being there with her. I thought she was going to throw up on me. She almost choked on her own tears. She's drunk."

"Well, saw that coming. She drank a lot. I'd be surprised if she remembered much of anything."

"I hope she does because I need to know what that was about. Why was she in my room?"

They both had a lot of questions about everything, but they needed Rachel awake, sober, and calm to get those answers. They had until morning for that, so they decided to discuss it later and sleep while they could. Santana, scared to leave Rachel alone, crawled into bed with the other girl.

Santana barely slept. She spent the whole night watching over Rachel. Although she often came off as heartless and cold, she cared more than she would ever admit about Rachel. Seeing her like that terrified Santana. Rachel was emotional and a plethora of other things, but she wasn't… whatever that was. She wasn't normally that unstable.

Wide awake, feeling just a tad hungover, Santana dragged herself out of bed to fetch some Advil. There was an inevitable storm brewing, and she needed to be prepared for whatever hurricane Rachel brought. There was an anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach that she never had before.

Coffee… That was where she needed to start, with coffee.

As it slowly brewed, Santana's thoughts had time to wander again. She didn't want to jump to worst case scenario, but it felt like Rachel was there. Groaning in a mix of frustration and tiredness, Santana eagerly awaited her drink.

"Any more of that for me?"

Kurt made her jump.

"Help yourself."

He poured a mug and sat at their small table across from her. A long silence settled. They needed to talk before Rachel woke up, but they didn't want to.

One of them had to give. Kurt did.

"So… Last night was fun… before it wasn't."

Santana glared.

Kurt ignored her and asked, "Did she say anything?"

"Nothing."

Santana fiddled with her mug.

"She scared me," she said. "I've never seen her like that. When Finn died, she was bad. She barely talked, barely moved… But this was a different scary."

"She's been off since her birthday."

"Before her birthday."

"I didn't tell you, but when I tried to surprise her after her shift on her birthday, she totally freaked out. Almost hit me."

"What?"

"It was partially my fault. It was dark and I did kind of scare her. She thought I was an intruder, but when she realized it was me, she still ran off and didn't come out of her room. She told me the other day that her dads are getting divorced."

"I'm sure that's hard on her, but this definitely isn't about that."

"No… I didn't think so, but she tried to pass off some of her… behavior on that." Kurt hesitated before asking, "Do we say anything? I'm afraid that might make it worse."

"Worse how?" Santana humorlessly teased. "I think we wait and see what she remembers. She was pretty drunk. I… I think I have a plan, but it might take a little time."

"What's the plan?"

Santana took a long swig of her coffee before letting Kurt know what she came up with.

"Are you sure that's a good idea," he asked when she finished.

"Do you have something better?"

"No," he confirmed.

"Didn't think so. I'm going to talk with her later today and see when she can get here."

"You think she'll come?"

"Of course."

"I guess it's worth a try."

"That's the spirit."

The two friends silently drank their coffee, waiting to see when Rachel would wake up. Eventually, they moved on to breakfast, saving enough for Rachel though they doubted she'd eat it.

Rachel emerged hours later than she normally would. Head pounding and stomach churning, Rachel dizzily emerged from the bed. She caught herself in the mirror. Her face was blotchy and puffy. She had minimal memory of the night, but it was obvious to her that she cried at some point… and ended up in Santana's bed. How had that happened?

Shaking it off, Rachel zombie walked toward their kitchenette spotting Kurt and Santana at the table.

"Morning," she mumbled.

"Good morning sleepy head," Kurt said, hand patting the seat beside her. "Welcome to the land of the living."

"Even if you look dead," Santana quipped.

Rachel huffed and groaned. Rolling her eyes made the headache worse.

"How did I end up in your bed?" Rachel asked.

"You don't remember?"

Rachel shook her head, and Santana exploited the opportunity presented to her.

"We totally hooked up. You were all over me last night. You started kissing me and one thing led to another…"

"What?! Owww…"

Rachel's surprised yelp sent a pain right to her head. Her hand immediately went to rub her forehead.

Santana got a kick out of it, especially when Rachel started babbling about not being aware of her lesbian encounter.

"Relax, Berry. I'm kidding."

"Really?"

"Really. What kind of woman do you think I am? I'd never take advantage of someone, especially not someone as drunk as you were. No matter how much you were throwing yourself at me," she teased.

"I was?"

"Santana," Kurt chastised, "Stop."

"Alright. Absolutely nothing happened. You were… Well I guess you were too drunk to find your own bed, played Goldilocks and decided my bed was just right."

"I… I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm feeling nice today. Let's blame the hangover. I gots my cuddles on and didn't have to use my Brittany pillow. We'll call it a fair trade."

"Okay…"

Noticing Rachel's lost stare and wide, scared eyes, Santana confessed, "I'm still joking, Rachel. You slept in my bed. Just slept. I stayed above the covers on the other side. No cuddling, no touching. I was just too lazy to walk into your room and sleep in yours. Honestly, you were so drunk I didn't want to risk you choking on your own vomit. It's all good."

"I'm sorry," Rachel said, nose crinkling and head bowing.

Ignoring the apology, Santana pushed a plate of cold pancakes toward Rachel.

"Hangover food."

Pushing the plate away, Rachel said, "Ugh. Not hungry."

"You should eat anyway."

"I really can't," she said.

It was another battle they knew they wouldn't win.

"So…" Kurt started in, "What happened last night? You disappeared right before the ball dropped. We looked for you, but you were gone and wouldn't answer your phone."

"We were worried," Santana added. "Where did you go?"

"I…"

She didn't want to say. It was stupid. She knew it was. What she could remember was fuzzy at best, but she knew it became something it wasn't.

Rachel was following the booze. She lost track of how much she drank, but it seemed to be the only thing to calm the paranoia. The more she downed, the less she felt. She had been feeling so much lately that it was a nice reprieve.

The new friends they made seemed to have an endless supply. At one point, she headed toward their stash and lost track of Kurt and Santana. Way past tipsy, she thought nothing of it.

"Hey pretty lady, can I refill you?"

"Huh?"

He held up the bottle.

"Oh, yes please."

"Thanks," she said, taking her full cup back.

"Pete," he said.

"I know. Pete. Right."

"You're cute."

"Oh… Uh. Thanks."

"Dating someone?"

She didn't get a chance to answer before she was jostled by a stranger and barreling toward Pete. She landed awkwardly in his grasp. His hand innocently fell to her hip, trying to keep her upright. It set her off like a firework.

A pained scream came from her mouth, silenced by the crowd. She could see him apologizing, but all her mind went to was flight mode. She needed to get away. She didn't see innocent Pete, she saw a predator, and she needed to escape.

So she ran. She ran into the crowd, bouncing between bodies as her chest felt like it was caving in on her. There were millions of people around her and any – all – of them could be dangerous.

It was a miracle she made it home. She had barely been keeping it together, and when she made it inside, the tape and glue pulled apart and the pieces fell. She was hyperventilating. Dying. She was sure she was dying.

Snot and tears mixed down her face. She almost threw up all over herself. Time was just passing by, and she had no awareness of anything other than the sheer panic and feeling of death.

"I wasn't feeling well. I'm not really sure how I got home."

"Rachel," Kurt admonished, "That's dangerous."

"I know. I'm sorry. I don't really know what happened. I just think there were too many people there and I was too drunk. I felt a little claustrophobic. I guess I've been kind of a mess lately."

Rachel was trying to save face. She knew this was the perfect opportunity for a reset. She had been off, but she was an actress, and she could still save the show.

"With the holidays and everything… I've been missing Finn more than ever. Between that, my parents' divorce, and stressing myself with work and school – not to mention running into Shelby… It's been a whirlwind, and I haven't been handling it well. I'm ok, though. I promise. Or I will be, just bear with me."

Santana and Kurt couldn't say they were completely sold by her act, but what she was saying made sense. There was a lot going on in Rachel's life. Altogether, it added up to an overwhelmed, overemotional Rachel. When Shelby was involved, things always tended to get worse.

But they didn't believe that was it. Time would tell though.

"We're glad you're ok, but we wish you would have told us you were leaving."

"We panicked."

"I'm sorry."

"I've been struggling a bit with school," Rachel confessed. "And I've been putting a lot of pressure on myself to do well because this is my dream. I'm just… I guess I'm just tired and emotional."

"You can talk to us about these things," Kurt promised. "We're here for you."

"I know, but I felt like I had to deal with it on my own."

Reluctantly, and skeptically, Santana ate what Rachel was feeding them.

"Since we're having a bromance moment, does that mean I can finally ask about Christmas with the Kranks? How the heck did you end up spending time with Shelby?"

Rachel gave a genuine laugh, and while she wasn't willing to divulge everything, she spilled enough. Things felt normal, and she felt relieved that she seemed to be reigning in her acting fail to pull off a better ending.