Page 45 of The Sweet Spot

Stiffening, I stare at her, wondering where she’s going with this. My mother is a militant pacifist (oxymoronic, yes), and she eschews war of any kind. For any reason.

Arlo nods. “That’s right. I served in the Army for four years, documenting everything from civilian life on base to combat in Afghanistan.”

“That must’ve been rough,” I say.

“It was.” Arlo frowns. “It’s…not an easy life. But someone’s gotta do it.”

“Do they?” Mom asks.

Arlo’s eyes slide back to her. “Yes,” he says simply. “War is shitty, but freedom isn’t free.”

She purses her lips. “Hm.”

“I’d like to see some of your work from those days,” I break in, giving my mother a look. She averts her eyes, face flushed from wine and, hopefully, embarrassment. “If you’d ever share it, I mean.”

“Of course.” Arlo gives me a small smile before returning his attention to my mother. “In fact, I brought some of my work to show Wren. I can share it with you, too, if you’re interested.”

My heart skips as I look at them. I can’t help it; I want these two to like each other. It would make my life a hell of a lot easier.

She nods slowly, raising her eyes to his. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Luca

Winter

I’m sitting in my car at midnight, checking the console for a book I told Brooke I’d lend her, when she and Logan get out of a car across the street and disappear inside her apartment building. He emerges moments later, hands in his pockets, face is set low against the wind.

I wish I could say I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, but that would be a lie. There have been signs—inconsistencies in Brooke’s stories, her phone going to voicemail at random times…once there was a UCSC sweatshirt. She said it was her friend’s and that she’d borrowed it one night because she was cold, but something about it didn’t sit right.

“What the actual fuck.”

I’m tempted to leave and not come back, but instead I get out of the car with the book and cross the street. Brooke’s not expecting me. It’s pretty late, so my initial plan was to shoot her a text and let her know I was leavingthe book downstairs, by the mailboxes, but now I think I’d prefer to give it to her directly.

I ring her from the call box downstairs like I’ve done a hundred times over the past year.

Her voice crackles through a moment later. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. Luca.” You know, in case she thinks it’s theotherguy she’s been seeing.

“Hey, you! Come on up!” The door buzzes, unlocking.

I tuck the book beneath my arm, wondering at the false note in her voice. Has it always been like that, or am I just hearing it differently tonight?

Ignoring the elevator, I jog up to the second floor, where Brooke’s apartment sits midway down the hall. She opens her door almost immediately, face flushed and eyes bright. She’s in jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. “Hey, handsome.”

Matty’s words from way, way back haunt me. I shudder to think of how easily this girl played me, and had I been five minutes later I never would’ve known for sure. I never would have seen them together.

“I brought that book.” I pat her back lightly when she comes in for her usual hug, handing over the book.

She blinks, eyes wide. “Aw, I know it’s late, honey. You didn’t have to do that.”

My brain’s going a mile a minute. I check my watch without actually looking at the time. “I was in the neighborhood.”

“Come in, come in,” she says, standing aside. I can’t tell if she suspects she’s been caught, but either way she’s careful enough not to say anything.

Going into her apartment is the last thing I feel like doing. Shaking my head, I take a step back. “I gotta go. Enjoy the book.”

“What?” She shakes her head, the picture of confusion. “What’s going on?”

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