Begin Again(47)

“You’re the girl who staged the coffee coup, huh?”

I rub my hands together, warming up. “My reputation precedes me.”

Jamie winks. “Glad someone’s looking out for him on the big bad Blue Ridge campus. Pardon the chicken joke, but you and Shay seem like good eggs.”

My cheeks warm up faster than the rest of me does. “We’re glad he took us under his wing.”

She lets out a barking laugh and pats me on the hand. “I like you.”

I blink as she turns around to take the grilled cheese off the stove, startled by the impact of those three simple words. It’s just so easy, is all—to talk to Jamie. To sit in her kid’s worn-out overalls and slouch in her wooden kitchen chair. When I’m with Connor’s parents I’m constantly pre-screening every word that comes out of my mouth, taking cues from his mom, trying to keep up with his dad. When I’m with Connor’s parents, I never quite know where I stand.

“Smells good in here,” says someone who is decidedly not Milo. I look up and see a boy who looks just like him—same dark hair, same green eyes, but with several days’ worth of stubble and an entirely different bearing. He seems sharper, his movements quick and his gaze fleeting. Behind him is a strikingly beautiful girl with long red hair who seems to instantly soften his edges when she stands next to him.

“Harley, honey,” says Jamie, knitting her brows. “I thought you two were going to that brewery.”

I freeze in my seat the way you do when you’re bracing for a crash.

“Yeah, we were, but—”

“What are you doing here?”

And cue the crash. I turn to see Milo standing in the hallway with his eyes wide and his cheeks redder than I’ve ever seen them, his arms so rigid at his sides that I feel my own muscles twinge in sympathy.

“Hey,” says Harley, his voice unmistakably nervous. “I didn’t realize you’d be home today.”

“Like hell you didn’t,” says Milo, his voice tense, but every bit as shaky as Harley’s.

“Milo,” says the girl softly.

Milo shakes his head with one singular, sharp motion. “Don’t. I’m leaving.”

I push my chair back to follow him. I have no idea how much context I’m lacking for all this, but I know Milo. If he’s out, so am I.

“Don’t be silly, Milo,” says Jamie, taking a few steps toward the hall. “This is your home, too. Maybe this is an opportunity for the two of you to work this out.”

Milo yanks his arms into the sleeves of his coat and walks out the door, a storm-out only made slightly funny by the way he carefully closes the front door behind him. Jamie lets out a sigh, turning to the grilled cheeses.

“Excuse us,” she tells me, wrapping them in paper towels for me and handing me a bag with my clothes in it. “Never a dull moment in the Flynn family.”

“Thank you,” I say. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“You too, doll.”

I feel the eyes of Milo’s brother and his ex on me as I hustle out the front door to find him leaning against Stella with his nostrils flared, staring down at the concrete of the driveway like it committed a crime against him.

“I’ll drive,” I offer.

Milo looks up in surprise, like he hadn’t expected me to follow. “You don’t have to.”

“Give me the keys. I promise I’ll be nice to Stella.”

Milo sighs but relents, handing them over. I move the seat up closer to the wheel by about a mile, and that at least is enough for Milo to let out a breath that almost qualifies as a chuckle. I hand him the grilled cheeses.

“Thanks,” he says.

I nod, checking the mirrors before I back out. “So that’s Harley.”

Instead of answering, Milo deliberately shoves at least half a grilled cheese into his mouth. An Andie Rose conflict-avoidance move if there ever was one. I wait until he’s finished chewing and ask, “Are you okay?”

“Peachy.”

“Milo.”

He sighs yet again. “He’s a jerk. He knew I was coming home today. I told Sean to tell my mom to tell Harley. And then he just comes marching in there with Nora like a damn ambush, I just . . .”

“So Nora’s your ex.”

Milo rubs his eyes with his thumb and index finger, propping an elbow on the console. “Yeah. Shit.” I can practically feel the way he’s trying to scowl but can’t quite make his face do it, everything wobbling even in my peripheral vision. “Feels weird to call her that. We were . . . I mean, I thought we were . . .”

“Endgame,” I finish for him.

He straightens back up. “So much for that.”

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. I’m careful not to say anything else. It’s not that I’m out of my depth, but more that I worry we’re out of Milo’s right now.

“What,” he says after a few beats. “No Andie Rose advice?”

I pull out into the main road. “Do you want it?”

Milo stares down at his feet, talking more to them than me. “I feel like I’m going to get it at some point either way.”

I clear my throat, pointedly ignoring the edge in his tone. “We can talk about it some other time, then. I don’t want to say anything you don’t want to hear right now.”