Broken Beautiful Hearts(35)

Grace smiles sheepishly and waves. If Christian doesn’t know she likes him, he’s clueless. “Are you coming in?” she asks him.

“Not yet,” Christian says.

“Go ahead. I’m fine.” I motion for him to get out.

“I’ll stay,” Cam says, suddenly grouchy.

I nudge Cameron. “I’m okay on my own, Cam. Seriously.”

He leans back against the seat. “I’m good with waiting.”

Christian hops out, grabs his backpack from the truck bed, and slings his arm over Grace’s shoulder. “Change of plans.”

Grace beams.

“That just made her day.” It feels good to do something nice for someone else.

“Yeah. Christian is a real prize.” Cam slips on a flannel with a quilted lining that looks more like a coat than a shirt, and messes with his hair. I can’t put my finger on what it is yet, but there’s something different about Christian’s and Cameron’s eyes.

“You should go with them,” I say, but Cam doesn’t move. He’s not going anywhere unless I give him a reason. “I just need a few minutes to myself.”

“I’ll meet you in the office.” He gets out and points at the main entrance. “It’s straight through there. Miss Lonnie probably forgot you were coming.”

Cam taps on the hood and takes off.

I slouch deeper into the seat and watch the students filter inside.

Senior year wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. Tess and I spent most of last year mapping out every detail, and now she won’t even speak to me.

My gaze drifts past the empty parking spaces to an SUV. A woman around Mom’s age sits at the wheel, her face creased with worry. She’s arguing with someone and gesturing frantically.

A guy is sitting in the passenger seat, and I recognize his profile and dirty-blond hair. Owen’s broad shoulders hang slack as he stares at his lap. The woman must be his mother. At the barn party, when Owen said his mom was the person he’d been arguing with on the phone, I wasn’t sure if he was serious.

Why is she so upset? And why does he look like he’d rather swallow nails than stay in the car for another second?

The conversation between them grows more heated, and Owen’s mom bursts into tears. She buries her face in her hands, and he slumps against the passenger door. I shouldn’t be watching them, but his expression looks so familiar.

It’s the same one I see in the mirror all the time now.

Regret.

Owen says something and squeezes his mom’s shoulder, but she doesn’t stop crying. She stares straight ahead like a zombie.

He looks past her and catches me watching them.

My cheeks heat up. I turn to look away, but his eyes find mine.

A knock on the window scares the crap out of me, and I yelp. Cam waves, and I reach over and unlock the driver’s-side door.

“Are you going to stay in the car all day?” he asks, clueless that he scared the hell out of me.

“I’m coming.” I open the door and get out carefully.

My eyes flicker to the silver SUV. Owen’s mom is backing out of the parking space and he’s already across the street, walking up the sidewalk. He opens the door to the building, and at the last possible moment, he stops and looks back.

It’s two seconds. Maybe less.

But when a boy looks at you like he’s drowning and you’re the only person who saw him fall in, it feels like forever.





CHAPTER 15

Warriors

THE FRONT OFFICE is small and cozy. Framed motivational quotes written in looped calligraphy and a collection of Beanie Babies crowd the counter.

Cam chats up Miss Lonnie, the gray-haired lady behind the counter, while she hunts for my schedule. The rosy circles of blush on her cheeks match her silk blouse perfectly.

I tune them out until Miss Lonnie says something that grabs my attention. “I hate to say it, but I’m worried.” She toys with one of her huge pearl earrings. “A team without a quarterback isn’t any different than having no team at all.”

I don’t remember anyone getting injured at Friday night’s game, not that I saw much of it. With all the football talk afterward, wouldn’t the Twins have mentioned it?

“Only thing worse would be a team without its linebackers,” Cam says.

“Always looking for a pat on the back.” She shakes her head at him. “Know your worth, Cameron. Don’t rely on other people to remind you.”

He looks away.

“Did the quarterback on your team get hurt?” I ask, rescuing my cousin from an awkward moment.

“Everyone on the team is fine as far as I know,” Cam says. “Why?”

I drop my backpack on the floor. The extra weight—which isn’t much since I don’t have any books—has my knee aching. “She was talking about an injured quarterback. Was he from your team?”

Miss Lonnie smacks her hand on the counter and cackles. “No. He’s the quarterback on my fantasy football team.”

Fantasy football? Is she serious? The woman must be pushing seventy-five.

“It wouldn’t be any fun if you win every year,” Cam teases.

“It would be for me.” She thumbs through the papers in front of her, plucks out a thick white card, and pushes it across the counter. “Here’s your class schedule. Cameron knows where to find everything, since he’s always roaming the halls when he’s supposed to be in class.”