Page 53 of The First Love Myth

I stand and pace in front of the couch. I don’t need this tonight. Not on top of the family-sized betrayal I sat through earlier. “I’m angry about all of it.”

“And Zoey?”

“What about Zoey?” I ask, choosing to ignore the fact that Evie switched to her psychologist voice.

“I thought perhaps you started to think of her as family.”

My stomach turns over. Am I getting used to Zoey’s presence in my life? Yes. But she isnotmy family. How can my own girlfriend even suggest such a thing? “She will never be my family.”

“And you made that clear to her tonight?” Evie’s tone is flat. Disappointment radiates off her. The force of it nearly knocks me off my feet, but I’m not the villain here.

“I’m going to go.” I walk toward the door. “I came here for support from my girlfriend, not the third degree about why I don’t want my father’s illegitimate child as my sister.”

“Leave your key.”

I stop moving, stop breathing. This is what will break us? “What?”

“I thought we could do this, Cee, but I can’t.” Her voice cracks. “I need someone who gives back what I put in, and you are too stuck in your anger to really care about anyone else. I told my family about you last weekend. Even my grandma. Because the look on your face when I told you not to come—I never wanted to see it again.” Tears stream down her cheeks, and she flicks them away angrily. “And you didn’t even ask me about my weekend. Not once this entire week. And the saddest part is that I’m not even surprised.”

“Evie.”Please don’t do this.“I can be better.”

“What awful thing did you say to your family tonight?” It’s barely a question. She knows me all too well. “You were perfectly happy with our separate lives until Liz left her husband and wentto stay with your dad and Zoey.” Her therapist voice is coming back, but the warble and emotions evident in each word betray her true feelings. “You felt betrayed, and you clung to the only thing you could. And I let you because I wanted you to love me like I love you. But I can’t do this anymore.” She holds out her hand. “Your key.”

I yank the keys from my purse and detach the freshly minted piece of metal from the ring. Tears build behind my eyes, but I will not cry now.

Evie reaches past me and pulls a single key, already off the ring, from the bowl by the front door. She places it gently into my hand and then turns and walks away.

Chapter 42

Zoey

“Hey.” Max sits down next to me in the end zone. He moves closer until we’re touching and wraps my hand in his. “You want to talk about it?”

I lean my head on his shoulder. “Not really.”

It’s only been a week since the kiss that rocked my world, but so much changed over the weekend. Walking onto the track this morning, I felt like a different person from the one who asked Max to kiss her. The flop my stomach does upon seeing him is no different, nor is my desire to plant a kiss on him at all hours of the day. But I can’t do that at work. Dating’s not forbidden—with a staff of mostly teens, that’s impossible—but the Ardena Heat gossip mill is the same one that swirls around the high school. The last thing I need is people giving their opinion on a relationship that has barely started.

This moment is the closest we’ve been all day despite spending hours standing side by side. And it feels good in a way that I haven’t felt in a long while. Being able to go from coworkers to friends to this over the course of the summer, being able to put my head on his shoulder and know it means nothing and everything, it all feels right. Andrew and I were never friends. We went from classmates to true loves in the length of a yard line. But Max and I are friends and now more.

He kisses the top of my head and wraps his arm around me, taking on some of the weight. “Anything I can do?”

“This,” I say, closing my eyes. My stomach grumbles loud enough for us both to hear. “And maybe some french fries.”

“That, I can do.”

A while later, I stare up at the sign above the restaurant door—Mack’s. It’s a bar and grill on the outskirts of town. It’s popular, but not overly so and not on a Monday night. Younger teachers from Ardena are known to frequent it for happy hour, and the big Thanksgiving Eve gathering of Ardena alum is always unofficially here. It’s the go-to spot for wings at two in the morning. And when it comes to Mack’s, you always want wings at two in the morning.

The last time I was here was with Andrew for that Thanksgiving Eve party. We didn’t stay long, but he was adamant we make an appearance. Things like that matter to Andrew. Once they mattered to me too.

“Mack’s?” I ask incredulously.

“What?” Max grins and pulls open the door. “They have the best fries in three towns.”

Untrue. But we can debate the qualities of the perfect french fry another time. Right now, I want to sit on the same side of the booth, hold hands, and steal imperfect fries off his plate with no commentary from anyone else.

“Can we have a booth?” I ask the hostess before she can lead us to a table.

She nods and changes course. Mack’s is small. There’s the bar room and then one dining room with about ten tables in the middle while booths line the walls. It’s always a notch above dark inside, and you can’t visit without hearing Bon Jovi or the Boss at least once.

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