Page 49 of Come Break My Heart Again

“They’re good,” Ryder says. There’s a note to his voice that tells me not to ask any more questions.

“So, you’re a One, huh?” Cormac asks me from the back seat.

I glance over my shoulder. “I’m Elle.”

“Holy shit.You’reElle Clarke?”

“Language, Cormac,” Ryder chastises.

There’s a clear note of warning in his voice, but I’m not sure it’s about the swearing. More like it has to do with opinions the Twos have about me. We might judge the kids who live in the trailer park, but they judge our mansions too.

Cormac sighs heavily. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I’ve gotta drop him at home, and then I’ll get you back,” Ryder tells me.

“No rush,” I reply, masking the excitement I’m experiencing.

Up until tonight, we hadn’t spoken since I handed him the History papers in the parking lot on the first day of school. He slouches in the back of our one shared class each morning, appearing not to pay attention, but answering every question correctly when Mr. Anderson calls on him.

I thought that meant he was over me. That any interest faded a long time ago and his avoidance was proof of that.

Now, I’m not as certain.

I didn’t give him much of a choice in taking my car tonight. But if there’s one thing I know about Ryder, it’s that he doesn’t do things he doesn’t want to. Him bringing me to his house—even if it’s just to drop off his delinquent little brother—feels like it means something. Just like him texting me back meant something. Just like him standing on that balcony with me meant something.

Or maybe I’m just looking for the signs I want to see. Inflating the bare minimum so it adds up to something significant.

“You ever been here before, Elle?” Cormac asks as Ryder takes another turn. His voice is teasing, sure of the negative answer. He’s still at the age where the segregation in town seems amusing, not plain prejudice.

“Once,” I reply.

Ryder glances over at me, but I keep my eyes straight ahead.

“Huh,” Cormac comments. “That’s a surprise.”

I say nothing in response, relieved when he doesn’t ask any more questions. Ryder’s also silent as he drives along the dirt road that’s bumpier than when I was here last. My car handles the potholes better than my bicycle did.

Ryder brakes about three-quarters down the road, beside a trailer that blends in with the mobile homes on either side. Marks on the grass serve as a parking spot that Ryder pulls into. There are a couple of overgrown bushes by the stairs that lead up to a small porch.

“Thanks for the ride.” Cormac vaults out of the back seat without waiting for me to climb out. “You know where I live, Elle, when you get sick of Ryder’s shit.”

Once Cormac disappears inside, I expect Ryder to reverse right out of the spot. He doesn’t. He taps his fingers against the steering wheel, staring straight ahead at the thick hedge that separates the lot behind this one.

“Confident kid,” I say.

“Yeah.” Ryder exhales, then rubs a hand across his face. “He’s a handful.”

I’m in no hurry to leave, so I tuck my feet under me and continue studying the outside of Ryder’s home as we sit in silence.

“When?” he asks suddenly.

I swallow. “A few days later. I got … worried.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. You already said that.”

“I mean it.”

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