Page 27 of Hearts to Mend

“Nope.”

“Yep.”

“I hate you.”

“Liar.”

I grumble again.

“You’re such a joy to be around.”

I’m working up a great retort when the whole bar goes quiet, only the haunting sounds of Merle Haggard on the jukebox echoing through the boxy space. It’s like in the jungle when all the little forest creatures sense a predator nearby, and they duck and cover. What the hell is everyone ducking and covering from here—?

Oh.

Across the room, just through the door and glancing around at all the eyes on him, is Rico. I haven’t seen him since that morning in my hospital room when I pushed him away. Unlike that morning, his clothes aren’t rumpled, and his hair doesn’t stick up in little tufts where he slept on it.

He looks…really good, practically glowing in the low light of the bar. He’s in an Army T-shirt and worn jeans that fit him so well I have to force my gaze back to less dangerous sights.

“Speak of the devil, and he appears,” Rooster whispers to me, but in the hush of the crowd, it sounds too loud. Rico must hear it, too, because he turns his head, and his gaze locks onto mine, his expression one of guilt, full of apology.

Why?

Silently, Rico mouths one word to me, “Sorry,” then he turns and leaves. I blink at the blank space he’s left in his wake, then look over at Rooster, who’s doing the same thing, his eyebrows at his hairline, like he’s even more confused and surprised than I am.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and collect both crutches as I swing for the door. Out in the lot, Rico is unlocking his car. I still can’t believe he drives the same car as me, only his is black instead of purple.

“Where are you going?” I holler his way.

Rico stops and turns, looking me up and down as I make my way to him.

“Mamá took Matty to church, so I thought I’d come check out the bar I was never old enough to drink in when I lived here. I didn’t see your car in the lot, or I wouldn’t have…”

Seriously? He’s been actively avoiding me? “When I told you to stay away, I didn’t mean you’d have to avoid me completely. It’s a small town, Rico, so that’s pretty much impossible. I just didn’t need to wake up in the hospital and find you there. It was…confusing.”

He nods, looking sad, and it makes me sad too. He’s kept away, just as I asked him to, and I’ve hated every minute of it. In the weeks since my breakup speech, I’ve looked for him everywhere, secretly hoping he would challenge my orders. Of course he didn’t. Rico’s always been the sort of man who respects boundaries, even when maybe I wanted a little nudge over them.

I don’t know what to say to him now, and it’s hot out here, and the lot’s parking light is too bright—it makes me squint and tear up. I gesture over my shoulder and say, “You can come back inside. You don’t have to run away from me.”

He smirks like I’ve insulted him, but he says nothing and makes no move to return to the bar.

“I was leaving anyway.”

Now he speaks, asking, “How are you getting home?”

Interesting. I figured I’d get a ride home with Rooster, but instead of explaining that, I shrug. It’s a weirdly passive expression, not like me at all.

But apparently it says what I need it to say because Rico replies, “Let me give you a ride.”

Well, that’s a hell of a sentence; a lot’s packed into those six words, six syllables. “Okay.” I pack a lot into those two syllables, too, and move closer to his car.

Rico hops to attention as I near, hurrying around to open the door for me. It’s such a gentlemanly thing to do, and I freeze as I stare at him. Like the chair he’d held for me at our reunion dinner all those weeks ago, accepting this kindness feels loaded with meaning, but I accept it anyway.

I slot my crutches into the wheel well, then I climb in. Rico surprises me when he closes the door behind me, and I start to panic. Jesus, what am I doing? Why did I get in his car? Why am I about to give him directions to my apartment? Why, when we get there, do I know with absolute certainty I’m going to invite him up?

It’s like I’m a glutton for punishment, like it’s my kink. Hell, maybe it is. My lifelong fear of abandonment has led to other questionable decisions when it comes to men, so why not this one too?

As Rico climbs into the driver’s seat, he fills the space with his scent, his big body, and they overwhelm me. I practically purr when he turns the key and the engine growls to life. Quickly, I text Rooster: I got a ride home.

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