Page 53 of Forbidden Hearts

“Well, I’m here for whenever you’re ready,” I say.

She smiles.

Tears flow from her eyes. Something in her eyes tells me they’re not tears of sadness but relief.

I get up, walk around the table, and give her a big hug. We have only been friends for a few weeks, so I wasn’t sure how Isabella would react, but she immediately hugs me back.

“Thank you,” she says, hugging me tightly.

Some of the folks at the other tables are staring at us, but I don’t care. I close my eyes and hug her tighter.

???

After breakfast, we hop into my car and drive to her apartment. She lives in the annexed student dorms by theuniversity stadium, not far from the restaurant where we just ate.

“Sorry that I had to cut our day short,” I say. “I would have loved to spend more time together.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “I know you have plans.”

She says it matter-of-factly, as if she knows what I’m going to do. Or at least, shethinksshe knows what I’m about to do.

“It’s my mom,” I say. For some reason, I feel like I have to explain myself. I don’t want her to think I’m ditching her for a dumb or selfish reason. “I take care of her on weekends. That’s why I asked you to meet me so early today. I’m buying and preparing her food today and dropping it off at her place tomorrow.”

She looks at me with a confused face.

“She’s sick,” I say. “So I take care of her.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I thought you were…never mind. Does she live in town?”

“She lives in Harling,” I say. “That’s where I grew up. It’s a small town southeast of here.”

“I know where it is,” she says. “I used to have an uncle who lived near Harling, in Gonzalez. We used to visit him a few times a year before he moved out of state.”

As we turn into her street, she offers to help me prep Mom’s food.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I say. “I’ve been doing it since sophomore year. I’ve gotten used to it.”

“I don’t mind,” she says, looking down at her hands. She fidgets with her nails. “I just don’t feel like being alone right now.”

Whatever happened to her when she was younger is now occupying her mind.

“Well, in that case, I’ll gladly take you up on your offer,” I say. “If we finish early, we can go watch a movie.”

Her face brightens up. “That sounds fun!”

We spend the rest of the morning buying groceries and prepping my mom’s food. By early afternoon, we finish everything that would have usually taken me a few more hours.

After we set everything aside for tomorrow, we drive downtown to watch a movie at the only movie theater in town. It’s Saturday afternoon, so the place is packed.

“Fingers crossed we can find a parking spot,” I say, turning into a parking aisle. As I look for an empty spot, a loud rumble causes my head to turn to the street. Two reapers on motorcycles pull into the parking lot behind us.

Are they following me?

A beaten down truck followed me from my mom’s place once, but I never saw it again, nor did I figure out who it was. I had been so terrified of the truck that it didn’t occur to me to write down the license plate.

I turn into a different parking aisle, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror. The two reapers turn into the aisle behind us. Their bikes roar as they split up and surround my car on either side.

“Alex? What’s going on?” Isabella asks, turning to look at me. “Do you know them?”

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