Page 67 of Heart So Hollow

TYLER: The PDF of the restraining order. I think it’s fake because even without AI, it would take, like, five seconds to make. But people have been blowing up our comments all morning.

(SILENCE)

SYDNEY: Brett?

(SILENCE)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Brett

One Year Ago

“I don’t need this right now.” I slam my phone onto the counter and jam the scuffed cord in and out of the charge port, willing the tiny lightning bolt to magically appear inside the battery icon.

“What you need is a new phone,” Bowen mutters as he scrolls through emails on his laptop.

He’s right. Mine looks like it’s been run through a garbage disposal. The screen is a shattered spider web, the case is scratched, dirt and dust are lodged in every nook and cranny, including the charge port, the operating system freezes up on a regular basis, and now it won’t even charge.

“But it still works!” I can’t even convince myself anymore.

Far gone are the days when I’d find any reason to get a new phone. I’ve settled into a cozy routine where I can’t be bothered to transfer my entire digital life onto a new device.

“Not for much longer,” Bowen sniggers, pulling on his black Carhartt jacket, “how much charge do you have?”

“70%. I think it stopped charging overnight.”

“I can add a line to my plan and have you a phone by tonight.”

I stare at him from across the island and then shake my head, “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” he yanks his zipper up, “you need a phone, so I’ll get you a phone.”

I don’t say anything, I just walk around the island and wrap my arms around his waist.

“What?” he laughs. “Are you just not going to have a phone?”

I tilt my head back to look at him, “I can get a new one, it’s not a big deal.”

He envelopes me in a tight hug, “It’s easy enough. Then it’s just done. Remember,” he kisses the top of my head, “I take care of you.”

The most difficult part about living with Bowen is that we share one fundamental character flaw—extreme self-sufficiency. Granted, it wasn’t a flaw when it was just me, but now, the idea of someone else wanting to do mundane, everyday tasks for me feels unnatural. I haven’t had anything close to that since I graduated from high school, and now I don’t even live in the same country as my family. I have Barrett, though, and she’s the closest thing to family I have in the same zip code. But she and I aren’t about to buy each other phones and change each other’s tires.

But Bowen will.

Every couple of weeks, while Barrett tells me about her newest household inconvenience, Bowen always listens in the background, waits for her to finish, and then asks her if she wants him to take care of it. The conversation is always the same.

“You know how to do that?” she asks with astonishment.

“Of course,” Bowen replies, as if she should have already known.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she barks in frustration.

“You didn’t ask…”

The nonchalant way he says it always pushes her buttons, and he knows it. But she always takes him up on his offers, and that’s how it is with us, too. So, when I tell Bowen he doesn’t have to do that, we both know what it means. I can’t give up that mentality completely, but I accept his help, and he accepts me.

“OK, thank you.” This is my usual response.

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