Page 18 of Splintered Hearts

Well,not me, at least. There is that. Thanks, Dad. What am I going to do? I have no skills. I’ve never even considered another future for myself.

Which is my own fault.

I let shit happen to me. I’m miserable but oddly comfortable. It’s all I’ve known my entire life. But it’s time to move on from it completely. I rub my eyes. Real tears burn. There’s no going back now. What’s done is done. There’s no other choice but to move on. I’m not ashamed of who I am, and I refuse to let anyone else make me feel like I should be.

I startle as a hand touches my knee. “What?”

“You alright?”

Taking a deep breath, I nod. It’s time to move on—this is my fresh start.

We turn down a driveway, and Hunter’s tires crunch under the gravel leading to a white ranch-style home with a cute front porch. A little light at the door illuminates the front. Butterflies with razor wings fill my stomach.

I can do this. Flirting and meeting people has never made me nervous before. Hunter turns to face me. “If Jamie is mean to you, don’t take it personally. You’ve been through enough. If he’s a bit of a dick, it’s not you.”

“Because Jamie’s an asshole.”

Hunter glares. “When life was dealing out cards, Jamie got a real shit hand. I think that’s something you can relate to right now. I think you two will get along.”

“Please don’t,” Mark whispers.

Hunter gets out, slamming his door a little too hard. I fear for my best friend’s ass later. “If you want to go home at any point, let me know.” Nodding to appease him, some of my nerves start to wane. “And for the love of god, keep your dick in your pants tonight.”

“You act like that’s how I greet people! Hello, nice to meet you. May I show you my dick?” Mark looks at me flatly. “I don’t!” Folding my arms over my chest, I sink back against the seat. “I have standards! It’s been nothing but skyward since I slept with you.”

Mark slaps my cheek lightly. “I’m warning you because I know you. Just be careful.”

The car door swings open. “Are you two dipshits coming?”

They argue quietly while I trail behind. I’d be more worried if I weren’t one thousand percent sure this is foreplay. The door swings open. A cute Latino man with warm brown skin and black curly hair put up in a tiny ponytail with a silver bow greets us, offering the widest dimpled grin I’ve ever seen. The sides of his temples are decorated with shimmery silver dragon scales. “Yes! Someone who can cook.”

“Your brother can cook. Very well.”

“He can cook but can he grill? I told Bri I got this, but I so don’t got this.” His dark eyes land on me—they’re kind, and shine like the night sky above us. Okay, Jamie’s fucking hot. When he grabs Mark for one of those bro-hug things, I’m a little confused. I thought he hated him. “This Noah?”

“Yeah, this is Xavier.”So, not Jamie.“Jamie’s brother.”

If Jamie’s as hot as his brother, I can understand Mark’s warning. Taking my hand in his, Xavier squeezes it. “Call me Xavi, or sir, or Captain America. Any one of those.”

Hunter laughs, pushing him back through the door. “Let’s go see the damage.”

We walk into the house and it smells... warm. “Who did your makeup?”

“Bri.” Hunter, Mark, and Xavi say in unison.

“She’s out back. Don’t let her get you alone unless you want a full face of makeup.” So, go find Brianna, preferably alone. Got it.

Walking into the living room, I can see a handful of people sitting on the sofa and plush recliner. “Sawyer!” Hunter grins, walking up to his friend. Okay yes, I remember him. How could I not? Sawyer’s handsome with wavy black hair and a wide, easy smile. He hasn’t changed much since I last saw him. He looks a little tired, though, with some bruising under his eyes. “You remember Noah?”

“Ah.” Sawyer’s brows rise. “How could I forget?”

“Bakery booty. A pleasure as always.” I take his hand in mine and Sawyer just laughs. “How’s the bakery?” Sawyer runs a bakery a few towns over. When we were in college, I’d helped him clean it up after a fire had destroyed his mother’s Thai restaurant. Instead of reopening she decided to pass the store on to her son so he could open his own bakery.

Sawyer shrugs. “It’s alright. I love that I can do it. Just have to get used to barely sleeping.”

“Making cookies isn’t for the weak.” Hunter laughs.

Sawyer does too, but there’s something tired in it that his friend doesn’t see. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “What about you? How have you been?”

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