Page 48 of If Our Hearts Collide

“They died.”

What?“How?”

“I was raised by my grandparents. They passed and then I entered into the foster care system. Every few months, I got a new family.”

“Do you have any relationship with any of those families now?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He clears his throat. “Because there was no one who made a positive impact on my life other than to give me a reason to build a fortress around myself.”

My eyes fill with tears as I think about Collins as a young boy, being tossed about from house to house. “This is breaking my heart.”

His sigh cuts through my sniffling, as he shifts in his seat. “Not every card in the deck is meant to be in your hand. Some people start out having better luck with life. Others have to make their own. What I have going for me that is going well, is my own doing. I’m not sorry about that. I have no one to thank, but also no one to blame.”

My lips press into a hard line. I can’t imagine what my life would be right now without the love and support of my parents and brothers. No matter how overbearing I sometimes think they are, I know deep down that they are coming from a place of goodness.

“Okay…”

“Okay.”

I want to know more about Collins. He has a deeper backstory. We all do. But something tells me that few know about it.

Collins and I drive in silence the rest of the way, until he pulls up to the entrance of the Portland Japanese Garden.

“I didn’t bring my season pass you got me.”

“I have my own,” he states simply.

“You come here often?” I can’t keep the surprise from my tone. Why is a man like Collins coming here so intriguing?

“If I need to think, I do.” He parks, cuts the engine, and then turns to look at me sternly. “Wait here, Penny.”

I watch as he rounds the front of the vehicle and makes his way to my side. Why is he being so formal all of a sudden? I surely can open my own door without putting a crease in his impeccable manners. I’m a twenty-first-century woman after all. The kind that can open her damn door.

I give the handle a try, pulling it toward me. Nothing. Seriously?

Then Collins grabs it from the outside, tugs it open, and offers a hand to me. I’m a bit intimidated not to take it, just by how determined he looks in this display of outdated chivalry.

I walk in step with him toward the entrance in silence. He seems too serious. It’s making me anxious.

“Are you mad at me?” I whisper.

Nothing. Seriously—what just happened? I can feel the cosmic shift in his entire mood.

We get to the perky female worker who is scanning passes, probably silently begging for someone to engage her with some meaningless chitchat. She just appears to have the personality of someone who needs that social interaction.

Collins shows her his phone where there is a barcode loaded. She’s oblivious to our silent standoff because she asks if we’vebeen here before and mentions about a new hybrid plant that the facility has adopted to grow.

I answer all of the questions, while Mr. Grump Grump sulks.

Sheesh.

This man is going to ruin all of my Zen that I should be experiencing by coming here. Instead, he is harboring a lot of emotions and, quite frankly, giving me anxiety.

If Collins wants to talk, then he will talk. He is a grown-ass man who can make his own decisions.

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