Page 65 of All the Right Things

Her words cut me to my core. How can she be so insensitive?

Before I can say a thing, she shoves the knife in deeper.

“I mean, is what you feel for me real? Or is it coming from the fact that you’re such a sweetheart you wanted to help the girl next door? Do you have some sort of white-knight complex?”

I don’t answer because, in all honesty, I have no idea what the hell to say at this point. I think she’s said plenty for the both of us.

She sets her hand on my shoulder. “I just think we both need to take the time to figure out how we feel.”

I want to tell her that I don’t need to figure it out. I want to say to her I’m falling in love with her.

I want to carry her to bed andshowher.

But I don’t do any of that. Instead, I bite my tongue and watch her grab her duffel bag and walk out the door.

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After Andi walks out, it takes less than ten minutes before I’m in my truck pulling out of my driveway. That house was too damn quiet, and I’m way too riled up to just sit on the couch. So, I’m driving to who knows where.

There aren’t many options in a town so small you can fit it in a thimble. I could go to the bar, but I try not to drown my sorrows with alcohol when I'm upset. I guess I’m terrified to end up like my dad.

Andi’s words play over and over again in my head. Can she be that oblivious to what’s really going on here? Does she not understand how wonderful this thing between us is? Does she just not care?

I get lost in my thoughts so much that before I know where I’m going, I’m pulling into my momma’s driveway.

By now, I’m sure she’s seen my headlights, so I can’t just back out and go home. Oh well, I might as well go inside and get something to eat.

I barely make it out of the truck before I spot her on the porch.

“Jonas Lee, what are you doing here? Are you okay?” She asks with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Can’t I just come to see my momma?” I ask, stepping onto the porch to hug her.

“You barely ever come over herejust because,”she scoffs.

Trying to throw her off my trail, I say, “Okay, maybe I’m a little hungry. Got anything to eat?”

Her eyes are full of questions, but she doesn’t ask any of them. Instead, she leads me into the kitchen.

“I didn’t make anything tonight, but you know I always have a fridge full of leftovers. Sit down, and I’ll make you a plate.”

I was already about to make my own, but she shoos me out of the way. She busies herself for a few minutes, scooping out generous helpings out of multiple containers. Then, she sticks the plate in the oven on low. I smile to myself, thinking about how she has always said a microwave takes away the flavor of her excellent food.

Once the food is warming, she has a seat across the table from me.

“So, do you want to tell me why you’re really here?” She asks.

“What do you mean?” I feign ignorance.

“You know exactly what I mean. I know you like my cooking, but aside from Sundays, you haven’t come here asking for dinner in years. Does this have anything to do with Miss Andi?”

She always knows when something is up. It’s like she has damn radar or something.

I avoid her eyes. “We sort of had a fight.”

She sits quietly for a moment before saying, “Well, are you going to tell me about it, or are we just going to stare at each other all night?”

Reluctantly, I tell her everything. I tell her all that was said, and I fill her in on a few of the details from Andi’s past. Usually, I wouldn’t divulge that kind of information, but my momma is like a vault in Fort Knox when it comes to secrets.

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