Page 22 of Come Break My Heart Again

“We still have two months to study,” he tells me.

I nod before taking another bite, not bothering to correct his assumption about the bar exam being the source of my stress.

I’ve dated four guys since high school, and I’ve never so much as mentioned Ryder to a single one of them. He was always so removed from my life. But now … there’s a chance Prescottcould meet him. I’m planning to bring him as my date to Keira’s wedding this fall, and she’s marrying Ryder’s best friend. Ryder will most likely show up for Tucker.

Another bite of muffin gets shoved into my mouth. I really need to stop thinking, and six miles didn’t do it. I’m not sure what else to try. Downing a couple of tequila shots during breakfast won’t reassure Prescott I’m fine, plus I have to drive in about twenty minutes.

“Well, I’ll let you get ready for your breakfast.” Prescott snags the second muffin out of the bag, then reaches for his coffee. “Got a big golf date to get ready for.”

I swallow, then cough. “You donotneed to do that.”

My dad invited Prescott golfing at the country club during my graduation lunch. I thought Prescott was just being polite, accepting. Not that the outing would take place in less than a week.

I have this irrational fear my parents will ruin us. Their dreams for my life have never aligned with my own desires. Stupid as it sounds, their obvious approval of Prescott feels like a ticking clock to me. A bad omen. That’s nothing I can mention to Prescott or my parents, and it’s a problem I’ve pushed to the back of my mind. Easily, since every spare second has been spent thinking about Ryder James instead.

“I want to go,” Prescott says. “I’ll get to see where you grew up.”

“Not much to see.” My smile feels tight and forced, but I don’t think he notices.

I lived in Fernwood for eighteen years. And eleven months defined my entire perception of my hometown. Everything I loved about that place, everything that haunts me there—all tied to Ryder.

“Yeah. A golf course is a golf course, I guess. Speaking of parents, I’m thinking of visiting mine in early July. I knowit’s close to the bar exam, but the firm is throwing my dad a retirement party. Anyway, think about it. They’re dying to meet you.”

I nod. “I will.”

I was supposed to meet Prescott’s parents at our graduation, but they had to miss the ceremony because of some health issues Prescott’s grandfather was having.

He gives me a quick kiss. “I’ll call you later!”

“’Kay.” I listen to the front door open and slam, methodically chewing my muffin and trying to muster some excitement about the rest of today.

Breakfast with Ian Kennedy, take my car for an oil change, get groceries. And of course, study for the bar exam. That’s basically a given until I take the test mid-July. A few weeks later, I’ll start working at Gray & Ellington LLP, and … that’ll be my life.

I should feel grateful, I know. For having parents who support me financially and make the absence of a paycheck hardly noticeable. For having a position waiting at one of Boston’s top law firms. But I feel like an actor playing a part. Like I’m comprehending emotions, but not experiencing them.

My laptop is open on the kitchen counter. I close it without waking the screen, glad Prescott didn’t knock it accidentally. He would have had questions about why I’m researching lung cancer. Pretty pointlessly, considering I have no medical background or any knowledge specific to Nina’s case.

I should have asked her more questions about her health when she called. I barely stumbled through a coherent goodbye after she told me about Ryder’s early release. Reaching out for more details—ignoring her wishes to stay away—seems inconsiderate when she has so much going on.

And, selfishly, I’m terrified to. Scared of showing up at Nina’s trailer and him being there. Frightened of calling and him answering.

I’ve had time to prepare to see him again. Lots of time.

Just not enough.

Because there’s also a tiny part of me that wants to drive to Fernwood and demand answers. That wants to scream and yell and sob and rage. That wants a glimpse of the only guy I’ve ever loved.

But he’s gone, even if Ryder is back.

It’s a struggle to stand when I finish my muffin and coffee. Lying down and napping sound wonderful. Instead, I limp upstairs to shower and change into a navy shift dress. I have to search through my bedside table’s top drawer for some ibuprofen, my hand stilling when I accidentally brush the paper flower. I should have ripped or burned it a long time ago. But I’ve never been able to.

I hastily shut the drawer and then head downstairs after swallowing a white pill.

Driving downtown takes twenty minutes, but I’m running early as I walk into the coffee shop where I’m supposed to meet Ian. The line is long but moves quickly. Three customers from the register, I pick up a newspaper to skim.

After paying for my latte and the paper, I head for an open table. I sip and scan, not looking for anything in particular.

And then I see his name.

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