Page 101 of Pucking Tangled
“Yes.”
“Then you’re not going to mess it up by needing room to breathe. If anything, that’s what makes it real. You’re not playing house. You’re building something with all of them.”
Mia blinked back sudden tears. “I wish you could see how good they are. Howdifferent.”
“I don’t have to see it,” Brooke said, sweetly. “Because I can hear it in your voice.”
They sat in silence for a beat.
Then Brooke added, “So…who’s your favorite?”
Mia choked on a laugh. “Brooke.”
“I’m kidding. Mostly—as long as it’s not my cousin. I don’t want to hear aboutthat.” She laughed. “But seriously, don’t forget you can call me. Even when it’s messy.Especiallywhen it’s messy.”
“Thanks,” Mia said. “I needed this.”
“Anytime. Love you, weirdo.”
“Love you, too.”
Mia hung up, rolled her window down and let the wind blow through her hair the rest of the way to campus.
She wasn’t alone.
Not anymore.
And somehow, she thought, that made all the difference.
A short while later, she pulled into a parking spot on campus and climbed out of her car, making sure to lock it behind her.
She’d nearly made it to the lecture hall when she noticed a few awkward glances and snickers as she walkedpast. As she jogged up the steps and into MacFarland Hall, her cell phone pinged several times, reminding her to silence it.
But not before she saw messages from Brooke, the group chat,andthe guys individually.
Somehow she’d missed a call from Owen, too. Was the universe playing tricks on her? Pushing all the notifications through at once? Did Owen accidently call her and hung up before it could even ring on her end?
Her heart leapt into her throat, and dread filled her stomach.
Instantly, Mia tried calling Owen back first, but he didn’t answer.
Shit.
She pulled up her text messages.
Brooke: Do NOT go on the internet. Do NOT look at the WAGs website! I’m calling all my contacts right now.
Owen: Stay off the internet. We can talk when you get home. We’ll figure this out and get it taken care of.
Casey: I’m so sorry, Mia.
Luca: Remember when I said I’d kick someone’s ass for you? I meant it. I’ll move heaven and earth to figure out who did this.
Waylon: Shit. Mia. Call us back. Call Owen. Don’t go on the internet. Call me. Something.
Her phone buzzed again.
And a dozen notifications from Instagram, Facebook, Tiktok, even LinkedIn—which she hadn’t opened since undergrad—flooded her phone before she received two additional texts from unknown numbers.
