Page 108 of Our Hearts Knew Better

I’m Summer’s friend, too, so I’m also going to have hers. I can’t let us float around each other’s lives anymore.

And of all my own faults, I can’t be guilty of taking away that smile I’ve finally put on her face.

Hustling back to my truck, I text her that I’m on my way, then add about her being right about Adam, how he didn’t budge. I let my mom know that too.

Yeah,Summer sends back.

You didn’t tell him about tonight?It’s typed out and sent before I can rethink asking. Adam would’ve asked me anyway if he knew, but I just need inside Summer’s head with this.

I don’t really know what he’s doing anymore so why should he know what I’m doing,she sends.

And now I’m sending,Yeah, as the truck door springs against my back, a ricocheting pang through my chest for all my knowing more and seeing more and feeling more.

Fuck. I shouldn’t have let her go.

Home by Midnight

Summer

I check myself over one more time in the bathroom mirror at my dad’s, jumping in my wedges to see my full outfit—one of my mom’s dresses, the yellow sunflower one, with my short sleeve fake leather jacket. My hair is natural, the curls styled. I’ve gotten a nice tan, some color in my skin.

This mirror isn’t the full length one in my old bedroom, but I can’t go back in there. That door is a sore of lonely nights I can’t open.

Dad knocks on this door, and with a resigned sigh, I yank it open.

“You’re gonna put a hole in the floor,” he complains as he holds up my old mirror and I blink at my reflection again. “Did you know it’s detachable?”

“It is not,” I say in my disbelief.

“It is now.” He holds the mirror up more. “This good?”

I smile and watch myself nod. Which he catches with a peek around the mirror, checking my outfit with me as I take it in head to toe.

“You’re gonna knock him dead,” he compliments.

My swaying of the dress skirt slows until I’m still.Knock him straight over.

“Yeah, I can just see the other fans rioting in my name if I’m the reason Kai Coleman collapses on stage,” I joke.

“Mhm,” he says with a teasing look and I shake my head at him.

He leans the mirror behind him against the wall, then faces me again with another check of my outfit, this one soft, and I know who he’s seeing in me before he confirms it.

“Your mom would say you look beautiful.” He clears his throat, smiles. “You look like her.” His stare wells and I blink away the start of my own tears so they don’t ruin my mascara.

I have a rock star to knock straight over.

My heart thuds with the thud-knocks on the front door and I freeze with my focus whipped toward the sound.

“Nervous?”

“Stop,” I scold at my dad’s quirked face, snapped in a pace toward the stairs.

“He doesn’t normally do that.” Dad, right behind me, gives me this information like he’s hinting at something and I raise him one.

“He’s here for me today,” creeps from my mouth, the residue of my resentment for the relationship Levi’s built with my father, though I’m now thankful they have one, because I’m getting my dad out of it.

“I know he is,” he says, the quirks now in his voice.

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