Broken Beautiful Hearts(69)

That’s why it can’t happen again.

The nagging voice in the back of my head is awake, reminding me that last night was a one-time thing. If I hadn’t felt anything, then maybe I could sneak in a repeat performance. But a kiss like the one we shared—that kind of kiss isn’t easy to forget.

My phone rings, and I grope around on the nightstand until I find it.

I check the caller ID, and it’s not Reed.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

I’ve talked to Mom a few times since she left, mainly to fill her in about PT and my classes.

“How is everything?” she asks.

“Okay, actually. I think I’m getting used to things here.” And I kissed an amazing guy I can’t kiss again.

“That’s a good thing, right?” She sounds relieved. “Hawk said you have the day off from school.”

“Yeah. The teachers have an in-service.”

“How’s school otherwise?”

“Not bad.” Except for Christian’s bitchy ex that annoys the crap out of me, and the Twins’ friend, who wants to pick a fight with the guy I kissed … the one I’m not mentioning.

“That’s all I get?” She’s disappointed.

I’d love to tell her about Owen, but it will just worry her, and she’ll ask questions about him that I’m not ready to answer.

Instead, I offer up more details about my classes. But I don’t mention the novel we’re reading in English. I also tell Mom about the way Lazarus plays chess against himself and how Dutch gets stuck under my bed. She loves hearing about the everyday things.

We’re about to get off the phone when she gets quiet. “Is Reed still calling?”

“Yeah. But I never answer. Why? Is he calling the house, too?”

She doesn’t say anything.

“Mom?”

“Reed calls more now than he did when you two were dating. He leaves ridiculous messages asking if I’ll tell him where you are. He seems…”

“What?” If Reed is bothering my mom I’ll sic Hawk on him.

“I don’t know. Out of touch with reality is the best way to describe it.”

“I know what you mean.” The fact that Reed thinks I’d give him another chance proves it.

“Just don’t talk to him, okay?” she asks.

“Trust me. That’s not a problem.”

“Good. I’ll call you in a day or two, sweetheart,” she says. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

The moment I hang up my phone chimes with an incoming text.

are u up?

Cameron.

He probably wants to grill me about what I was doing last night. I ignore his text and, a minute later, another message comes through.

helping Pop haul crap to storage. text me when u get this.

I’m not ready to face the Twins and answer questions about last night.

Finding Owen in the locker room, in such bad shape, still has me reeling. By the time I got him in the car, he was so tired that he slept until I pulled up in front of his house to drop him off.

“Don’t tell anyone what happened until we talk, okay?” he asked.

“I won’t.”

His secret wasn’t mine to tell.

Owen was about to close the car door, when he bent down and poked his head back into the car. “My hoodie looks good on you.”

A hoodie I just happened to sleep in last night.

What was I thinking? Kissing him was a huge mistake.

I kick back the covers and put on a pair of sweats. Now that I’m up, the familiar scratching sounds start under the bed. I lift the bed skirt and take a peek. Dutch is sprawled out on his belly.

“Maybe you should stop crawling under there if you can’t get out.”

Dutch howls.

I’m not strong enough to lift the end of the bed without putting pressure on my knee, so I sit on the floor and use my shoulder to lift one corner of the bed high enough for Dutch to belly-crawl his way out. Once he’s free, the bloodhound lopes across the rug and stretches out on the floor next to the closet.

I wash my face, brush my teeth, and try to decide what to do with the rest of the day. Normally, I’d just hang out and binge-watch women’s soccer, but after last night I need a bigger distraction.

I consider calling Grace to tell her that Owen kissed me. I’d leave out the part about his asthma attack. Grace seems trustworthy, and I’m dying to tell someone. I scroll through my contacts to find her number, and my phone chimes again.

If Cam plans to text me all day long, it will drive me nuts. I open my messages, expecting to find another update on the crap hauling.

It’s Owen. I’m on a loaner phone. You busy?

Seeing a message from him makes me smile.

not really. how are u feeling?

Three blinking dots in a speech bubble appear on the screen as he types.

Good as new. I was hoping we could talk.

I’m not sure how to respond. Is he asking to call me or see me? I test the water.

i’m free now if u want to call.

I hit send and immediately wish I could delete the message. It sounds like I’m asking him to call.

I’d rather talk in person. Can I pick you up?

Instead of overthinking it, I type back: