Page 15 of Damaged Hearts (Damaged Hearts 3)

He thinks he’s got me.

Rhett

I need to talk to you.

My phone lights up in the darkness from where it sits on my nightstand and I reach for it, checking the text notification from…

Jensen.

It’s past eleven and thank Christ we’re on break for Thanksgiving week, but I had a basketball game earlier and I’m wiped out. I was trying to go to sleep but my mind was filled of thoughts of Jensen, which is nothing new. I can’t shake her no matter how hard I try, though I’m not really trying that hard.

Unplugging my phone from the charger, I start typing.

What’s up?

She answers me immediately.

Can I call you?

A mixture of hope and irritation fills me. This better not be a bunch of misleading bullshit.

What about?

I don’t want to tell you over text.

Then maybe you shouldn’t tell me over the phone either.

How else can I talk to you then?

Biting my lip, I contemplate what I want to say next.

Aw, fuck it.

Come over here.

She takes what feels like forever to answer me, when it was probably only a couple of minutes.

I can’t. Savannah’s at work. I don’t have a car.

Take an Uber.

I don’t want to. It’s too late. Might not be safe.

I don’t respond yet, because I can see the little gray bubble that she’s still typing. She takes so long, I wonder if it’s a trick, but then finally another text appears.

You should come over here.

Another text.

I need you.

My heart starts to race. I want to go over there. I do. For once, she’s not pushing me away. She needs me.

She might be using you.

I push the annoying thought into the far corners of my brain.

Before I say something stupid via text and ruin everything, I decide to call her instead.

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