Page 46 of Broken Hearts

I can’t help but smile, touched by her praise. “Thanks. That means a lot, especially coming from you.”

As we work side by side, I can’t shake the strangeness of having another woman in this kitchen, a space that once belonged to my mother. It’s different, but there’s a comfort in Susan’s presence that eases the transition.

I find myself relieved, too, about the absence of nightmares last night. After the emotional roller coaster of the previous day, I had braced myself for a restless sleep, but surprisingly, I woke up well rested. There were no messages from Cole, which was both a relief and a mystery. Instead, I found a few apologetic texts from Max, expressing regret for revealing things that weren’t his to share. He even offered to decline my prior invitation for tonight’s dinner, but I couldn’t stay annoyed at him for long. He’s been my savior in so many ways.

Me: It’s fine, Max. I’ll see you at dinner.

Susan, always the observant one, raises an eyebrow as I put down my phone. “So what’s the story with Max?” she asks, a playful tone in her voice.

I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re not very smooth,” I tease, playfully nudging her arm. “Is this curiosity for your benefit or my dad’s?”

She shrugs, placing the almost perfectly cooked turkey back in the oven. “A little of both,” she admits with a grin.

“Despite what my father thinks—no, believes—Max and I, we’re not an item. Never will be. I—” I look down at my hand and the scar. My heart squeezes at the memory of Cole’s anguish yesterday. “My dad must have told you about the accident.”

She nods, and I appreciate that she doesn’t lie.

Sighing, I decide to give her part of the truth. “I was totally lost without my violin. It was my everything. But Max? His gym, those self-defense classes—they helped. A lot.” I shrug. “I see him as my big brother.”

“That’s good. You know, when I first started teaching, I faced many doubters. But every challenge taught me more about my strength than success ever did. You remind me of that time.” She leans back on the counter. “You dealt well. I can’t wait to meet your friend tonight.”

“What you will find hilarious is how my dad tries to be amicable even when he glares.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “I’ll talk to him.”

As if on cue, the front door opens, and I can hear my dad’s voice.

“Do you think he’s done with his car?” I ask Susan, but anything else I want to add dies in my throat as my father walks into the kitchen, closely followed by Cole.

As he enters the room, a subtle yet undeniable shift occurs in the room. My heart involuntarily quickens its pace, an instinctive reaction to his presence that I can neither control nor fully understand. Despite my resolve, my body betrays a lingering connection to him.

His eyes find mine, and for a fleeting moment, the world stands still. There’s a familiar pull, a magnetic force that once drew us inseparably together. I feel a warmth creeping up my neck, my cheeks flushing despite my efforts to remain composed. It’s as if his mere presence ignites a cascade of memories and emotions, some tender, others tinged with pain.

“Look who came to say hello to his old coach. I have not seen you since the summer.” There’s an edge in my father’s voice that takes me a little by surprise.

Cole’s whole face softens when he sees me, but then his eyes widen with surprise when he sees Susan beside me.

“Oh, Mrs. Harper, what a pleasure to see you too,” he says, recovering quickly.

“Is that true, Mr. Westbrook?” She raises an eyebrow, and a sly smile plays on her lips. “I wouldn’t think so since you made skipping your English classes an Olympic sport.”

He gives her a sheepish grin, and I can’t help but laugh. Yep, I’m even more of a Susan fan now.

My laughter dies, though, as Cole looks at me with so much tenderness that I feel my walls crumble a little bit more.

Turning back toward my sauce, my father clears his throat. “Do you want something to drink?”

“A beer?”

My father scoffs. “You’re not twenty-one. You’ll get a can of Coke.”

“It was worth a try.”

A smile comes naturally, and as I turn to the side, I meet his blue eyes. “Ang— Evangeline, how are you doing?”

Wiping my hands on my apron, I turn around completely.

“I’m doing well. How are you?”

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