Page 55 of If Our Hearts Collide

The lump in my throat plummets and expands into the pit of my stomach. I already feel guilt stepping foot onto her soil, knowing that I’m doing a shitty job of taking care of her daughter, and the job barely started. The hopefulness in her eyes is nearly my undoing. The entire Hoffman family has some deeply rooted trust in my capabilities, yet I’m dropping the damn ball every time it’s thrown my way.

I haven’t visited this house often prior to this week where I’ve been here twice, but nearly every time I have, there have been memories made with Penny. I think back to the time we played football together for Thanksgiving, our paths crossing a few times over Christmas, the rehearsal dinner here for Angie and Graham’s wedding, and the memory of her walking down the stairs on her birthday just two days ago. Those experiences are vastly different from just minutes ago with how Penny slammed the door—shutting me out of her life in a figurative gesture that may lead to permanent consequences.

I don’t belong here. I don’t really belong anywhere.

And maybe that’s what bothers me the most. That the more time I spend with the Hoffmans, the more I’m reminded of all that I lack in my life. But no matter how different our backgrounds are, the Hoffmans are basically family to me.

“Don’t be shy,” Donna coaxes, opening the door and holding it for me to pass through.

And I do. I walk into the very house where all three of her children were raised, and which I imagine holds so many wonderful memories.

The Hoffmans are the type of family I would read about in books. I would fantasize what it would be like to love and to be loved. And there’s no shortage of love that Donna has for her three children.

And here she is extending that compassion to me.

The smell of dinner cooking makes my stomach growl. I often skip meals during the day and fuel up in the evening via a food delivery service. However, Donna is right that most likely I would be warming up something mediocre if I decided to go back to my place now instead of staying here for dinner.

Germain greets us from the couch in the living room as I follow Donna deeper inside her house. It feels different being here this go-round. Maybe it’s more intimate because there are fewer people. Or maybe it’s because I am harboring some unprofessional feelings for their only daughter.

“Thank you for having me,” I say softly, my voice barely a whisper.

“You are always welcome,” Donna reassures. “You’re family, Collins. Go sit, enjoy a break for once. I’m not sure where Penny went…”

“She’s up in her room,” Germain answers, looking toward the stairs. “She said she had a phone call to make. Sounded important.”

Curiosity strikes me as I think about what could be so pressing that she had to retreat to her room upon entry into the house. It’s not like I can ask her and expect a truthful answer. We aren’t on speaking terms at the moment. Part of me wonders if things will ever go back to how they were. So much has changed in just the span of twelve hours.

Now I can’t help but wonder if this girl actually does hate me.

11

PENNY

When I get to my room, I allow the tears that I’ve been holding back most of the day to cascade down my cheeks. I needed to make some excuse about having to make a phone call so my dad wouldn’t stop me on the way to my pity party.

I don’t need an audience for this.

So I recline in bed and just cry.

And after several minutes, I feel so much better.

Today was a lot. Between meeting up with the girls at Plus None to arguing with Collins publicly at a garden meant to provide serenity, I just need one evening of calm.

Rolling over, I reach for my phone to check my messages and am shocked to find one from Collins. We just spoke not even half an hour ago.

Collins: You left your wallet in my car. I’m going to give it to your mom.

Penny: Thanks

I hate the tension between us, and yet every time I think of his sole purpose in my life, my blood starts to boil. How could he not expect the two of us to clash? We both have entirely different goals.

When I come down the stairs for dinner, wearing an oversized shirt with a giant teddy bear on the front and a pair of mismatched pajama bottoms, I’m surprised to see Collins being fawned over by my parents at the dining room table.

So much for a calm evening at home.

Like, seriously…why is he still here?

I’m mad at him.

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