Page 56 of If Our Hearts Collide

While my anger might be displaced, I can’t help but feel trapped and confused about the whole situation. I just want to keep moving toward achieving independence. Yet, everything about Collins screams dependency.

I can’t drive.

I technically still live at home.

And the job I just accepted is located at a building that my brother owns.

How would anyone expect to actually do anything profound with these limited conditions?

My movement causes Collins to turn his head and take note that I have arrived at the table.

He better shut his mouth over my choice of attire too. I am comfortable.

But he keeps staring at me.

At least I kept my bra on, although I wouldn’t turn around and get one if I hadn’t.

“Stop it,” I whisper under my breath.

“Stop what?”

“Looking at me.”

How am I even going to be able to eat with him here? I take my seat, place my napkin on my lap, and then down my entireglass of iced water in a few gulps. My mouth is parched, and I think it has to do with how deeply I’m breathing.

“Penny, isn’t it nice that Collins can join us?” Momma asks, obviously smitten with the man. It’s a bit obnoxious.

Thanks, Momma, you traitor.

“Oh, it’s just lovely,” I say as sweetly as I can muster up, while plastering on the fakest smile I can produce.

Collins gives me the side-eye, making me want to laugh at my own jolly-good sarcasm. I shouldn’t be laughing right now. If I laugh, I’ll forget that I’m angry, and that is a feeling I want to embrace wholeheartedly.

I should be mad. I’m entitled to be mad and for as long as I want.

Dad gives me a look, and I know he senses my unease but is too polite to ever call me out on it in front of a group.

And then it dawns on me. This is yet another reason I need a place of my own. Everyone is so damn polite around me, always afraid to mess up or say the wrong thing or freak poor Penny out.

I just need my space so I can learn to assimilate myself back into society, or I might go insane. It’s not that far-fetched of a possibility either. I did spend months at a mental institute. No wonder everyone seems to walk around on eggshells around me.

Momma walks to Collins’s side of the table first—since he’s the guest—and shovels piles upon piles of pot roast onto his plate despite his soft protests that she can stop.

“Whatever you can’t eat, I’ll just wrap you up a plate. It’s no biggie. That’s what they made Tupperware for.”

Why not just let him spend the night, Momma?

At this rate, he’ll never want to leave.

Maybe he can move in, while I move out. I stifle a giggle over the absurdity of my idea.

“Something funny?” he whispers to me, while my parents are distracted.

“Kudos to you for winning my parents over.”

His smile is bright. “I do love to win.”

My eyes glare at his. “Oh, I bet you do—except when I’m your partner for family games.”

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