Page 168 of Come Break My Heart Again

“You sleep this late every morning you have off?” Mario grins before refocusing on his breakfast.

I roll my eyes as I help myself to some of the coffee that’s been brewed.

There’s just four of us in the kitchen, but there’s a huge crowd gathered out on the deck. I recognize about half of them—Keira, Ophelia, Avery, and Juliet. Elle.

“Full house,” I comment to Tuck between long sips of coffee. I still feel tired despite sleeping in. Groggy, like I just woke up from hibernation.

“Yep,” he replies. “Dinner should be a lot noisier tonight.”

I know exactly what he’s referring to. “Long day. I was tired.”

Elle and I didnotmake the greatest of dinner companions last night. As soon as we got back from the pharmacy, she headed upstairs for a few minutes. Tucker and Keira carried the dinner conversation, mostly talking to each other with limited input from us.

“Don’t bullshit me, Ry. If you don’t want to talk about it, just say so.”

I lean back against the marble counter. Idowant to talk to him. Advice is something I desperately need.

No matter what I do, I mess up.

Removing myself from Elle’s life felt like the only option after I was arrested. If we saw each other after I was released—which felt like a bigifat the time—I assumed she’d be happy. Figured I’d be so far in her past that she’d barely remember me. Hardly recognize me.

She wasn’t supposed to remember or care. She wasn’t supposed to visit my mom or bond with my brother.

She wasn’t supposed to spray me with a hose. To call me in the middle of the night like she just wanted to hear my voice. To blush when I look at her or smile the same way she used to.To kiss me back last night like she needed my lips more than oxygen. To moan my name like she wanted my dick, not just sex.

It’s all messing with my head. Making me wonder if there’s a chance Idohave something to offer her.

I can’t seem to get it right though, always saying or doing the wrong thing. Good intentions have gotten me nowhere.

Before I can figure out how to share any of that with Tucker, the doorbell rings, echoing through the house.

“Mind answering that?” Tuck asks me, ripping open another package of bacon.

I shake my head, shoving away from the counter and heading for the entryway.

Reese is standing on the front porch, a suitcase on one side and Knox on her other, her eyes huge as she looks around. “I thought we had the wrong address.”

I grin. “Crazy, right? Tuck invited me to a cottage the first time he mentioned this place. I thought we’d end up at some shack five miles from the water.”

Reese shakes her head. “Ones.”

“Here, let me take that.” I reach for her suitcase’s handle. “Tuck said he was picking you guys up later.”

“Knox woke up early, so we decided to take an earlier ferry,” Reese explains, stepping inside. Her eyes widen even more, taking in the central staircase and the expensive furnishings.

“Hey, Knox.” I hold out a fist, and he knocks knuckles with me. “Good to see you, buddy.”

“Did you bring the football?” he asks eagerly.

“I sure did,” I reply. “It’s upstairs.”

I’ve spent a handful of evenings at Reese’s, mowing her lawn or installing an air conditioner. Tuck and I built Knox a bigger bed. Knox is a quiet kid, but he’s warmed up to me slowly. Our shared interest in football has helped. Reese was right; he’sbetter at football than basketball. When he gets to high school, Fernwood might finally have a shot at a state title.

“I’ll put this upstairs,” I say. “And grab the football. You’ll see the kitchen as soon as you walk around the fireplace. Tuck’s cooking bacon.”

Reese sniffs the air. “Yeah, I can smell it.”

“Most people are on the deck.”

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