Page 10 of Broken Hearts

Sage turns to me, those blue eyes of hers that are exactly like Mitch’s locking with mine. “Strays?”

I take a sip of beer, realizing how that sounded. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” I start. “I just mean that’s what Alana does. Befriends anyone and everyone. She did it to me and she’s done it to you. That’s just who she is.”

“Must have had to work hard at it with you,” Sage murmurs.

A laugh bursts out of me, surprising us both. “Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that,” I say, propping my feet up on the unlit firepit. “And I also wanna apologize too.” Sage’s eyes widen, and I give her a smile. “I was a dick earlier.”

“Yeah, you kinda were,” she now says, and I like the way she calls me out on it. It’s exactly how Mitch is, was. “But I should apologize too.”

“You?” I ask, surprised. “What do you need to apologize for?”

Sage turns away, shrugging as she says, “Showing up here early. I know you weren’t expecting me.”

“I didn’t even know about you,” I blurt out.

“Yeah, Alana told me the story about that,” Sage now says, glancing over at me.

I take a long pull of my beer, our gazes locked. She really is fucking gorgeous. “Why do you think Mitch never told me about you?”

She swallows hard, turning away again. “I don’t know. We didn’t exactly have the best relationship. Maybe he was ashamed to admit I existed. Embarrassed he had a daughter who pretty much didn’t speak to him anymore.”

“Why didn’t you speak?” I now ask, the question out before I can stop myself. “Your dad was like the coolest guy I know, and I just can’t…well, I can’t picture him not acknowledging his own daughter.”

Sage doesn’t say anything at first, just stares down at her half-drunk beer. For a second, I’m not sure she’s going to answer me, but then she looks up again, those amazing blue eyes of hers meeting mine as she says quietly, “It wasn’t him.”

I can’t havethis conversation with Nate, not when I just got here, not when I know he hates me for being the way I was with my dad. He sees my dad differently than I ever did, as more of a dad than I ever did, and I’m not ready to delve into that.

My answer is vague, but it’s all he’s going to get right now. I’m exhausted from the travel and seeing the town with Alana, and honestly, from just the idea of being here.

I look up at the stairs that lead to my dad’s apartment, knowing it won’t offer much solace but needing to have some time to myself. I haven’t been alone since I got here, never expecting to be welcomed by Alana the way I was. Nate’s welcoming on the other hand, was more what I was expecting.

“I’m going to go to bed,” I say instead of elaborating on my answer. “With the time change and everything, I’m really tired.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Nate says, his words softer, the harshness from earlier finally gone. And even though things seem to have settled down, I know how grief works. He might be okay with me being here now, but that could change.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I try out, hesitant to rock the boat. “Will you be at the shop?” I take a sip of my beer, which only seems to make my exhaustion worse. Yawning, my eyes begin to water, and I can’t tell if it’s from the yawn or if it’s the unshed tears I’ve been holding in.

“Yeah, we open around eight, sometimes earlier,” Nate says, stretching his arms above his head as he stands. His shirt lifts slightly, showing his impressive abs. Not like I could ever forget what he looked like shirtless. “But I’ll be up early. I’m usually there around seven if you’re up early. You know that time change thing can be a real bitch.”

I nod, biting my lip a little, my teeth tugging nervously at some loose skin. I don’t know how to act around Nate. He makes me nervous, scared I’m going to say something that paints my father in a bad light. That would be a reason for Nate to return to his surly demeanor from earlier.

“Well, um, good night,” I say, heading up the stairs, but Nate doesn’t say anything more, and I don’t know if I’m comforted by that or bothered. Shit, this is going to be even harder than I thought.

I close the door behind me; the apartment is dark, and I feel around on the wall for a light switch. When I find it, the room is bathed in a low light, and I take a look around.

I was up here with Alana, but I didn’t get a good look. It’s totally different than when I was here all those years ago. It used to be this small, closed-in space with two tiny bedrooms. I stayed in one, and the other was my dad’s.

I remember arriving, feeling excited to see his house. But when I stepped into the bedroom, my heart sank, anger filling my teenage brain. I wanted the bedroom to be something he had set up for me, something that said he wanted me here, but it was just this little space with a twin bed, a nightstand and an old quilt that smelled like it had been left in a cedar chest for ten years.

But now it’s completely open, the walls and the tiny bedrooms gone. The ceiling has been lifted, revealing beautiful wooden beams. He must have had the place renovated recently, at least in the last year or two, judging by the updated kitchen cabinets and the rustic wood floors.

There’s only one bed, which is where I’m going to have to sleep, and I begin looking through the small closet near the bathroom for some sheets. Given my dad’s death was sudden, I would think the sheets haven’t been changed.

This is stupid. He’s my father. He was my father, and sleeping in his bed with sheets that he slept on isn’t weird. I wouldn’t change the sheets on my mom’s bed, so why would I here?

And anyway, I’m so damn tired that I’m not sure I have it in me to do anything but fall into bed and sleep for the next twelve hours.

That’s just what I do. Stripping off my clothes, I pull a T-shirt from my suitcase and collapse into the bed, not bothering to wash my face or brush my teeth.

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