Page 21 of From the Wreckage

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I should feel guilty for wanting this… wantingher. But I don’t.

Our conversation continues, light and easy.

But then something shifts. Her responses are slow and shorter.

I frown, tapping my phone.

Me: You okay?

Her reply takes longer than I like.

Brielle: Yeah. Just tired.

I don’t believe her. I stare at the screen, waiting, hoping she’ll say more. But nothing comes through.

I run a hand over my face, the restless energy coiling tighter. I want to press her to tell me what’s wrong. But I also know pushing too hard could send her running.

So I settle for the words I really mean.

Me: Take it easy, angel. I’ll be here.

And I will be.

Whether she realizes it or not, I’m not going anywhere.

CHAPTER 15

Brielle

It’s uncanny how Everett,a man I barely know, can read me through a screen.

I didn’t tell him about Joey—the pictures, the excuses, the way our texts last night turned into an argument that left me raw. But Everett must’ve sensed something anyway.

In the midst of Joey’s evasiveness when he finally answered, telling me nothing about the girl in the picture and accusing me of making a mountain out of a molehill, I couldn’t stop thinking about Everett’s text. So much so that I read it again.“Take it easy, angel. I’ll be here.”

I stared at those words until my chest ached. I love it when he calls me that. It’s like he sees something in me that no one else does.

Biting my lip, I text him.

Me: I’m not quite ready to stop talking.

His reply comes instantly.

Everett: I never want to stop. What’re you doing?

Me: Lying on my bed. Texting you.

Everett: Same. Seeing you would be better, but I’ll take this.

My heart squeezes. I type a message and hold my breath after I hit send.

Me: This might sound silly since we hardly know each other… but I miss you.

Everett: Not silly. I’ve missed you since I took you home.

I gasp, clutching my pillow. Butterflies, wild and uncontrollable, take flight inside me.

We keep going, discussing books, movies, and music. Every time I’m worried the conversation is going to fizzle, it doesn’t.

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