The wheel squeaked. It wobbled and stuck, making it nearly impossible to steer. “You would get the cart with the screwed-upwheel.”
“Didn’t botherme.”
“Of course itdidn’t.”
I went to the produce section and tossed the cabbage back in the bin before grabbing the lettuce and holding it up. “This islettuce.”
“Looks thesame.”
I threw it in the cart. “No, itdoesn’t.”
“Whatever.”
We walked to the checkout and Bo stopped at one of the end caps, snagging a gossip magazine. “It’scrazy.”
I put the milk and cheese onto the conveyer belt. “What is?” Then I grabbed the butter and piecrusts.
“Brice Taylor’s huge.” I turned around as he placed the magazine back on the rack. Celebrities covered the front, headlines of secret babies andaffairs.
“Yep.” I dropped the lettuce on the belt. Then chucked the bread on there. “He’s huge,alright.”
And I had no doubt that soon enough Noah would be right there on the magazine next to him. I threw the rest of the groceries on the belt and shoved the buggy to the end of the line. I should have been happy for him, but Iwasn’t.
_______
My knuckles ached from weeding Momma’s flower beds all day. Sweat rolled between my shoulder blades when I grabbed a clump of clovers and pulled. Taking my garden gloves off, I stood up and took a seat on the porch step to drink my water. Sampson wobbled down the steps, sitting next to me and placing his head on my lap. “Hey,buddy.”
His ears perked, and he sat up, giving a lazy bark as he stared at the road. I looked up to find Noah’s truck coming down the drive. “Great,” Imumbled.
Sampson stood up and wagged his tail before he let out a howl and took off toward the approaching vehicle. I hadn’t answered Noah’s message. Maybe I should have, but sometimes it’s best to let things go when you don’t have the rightwords.
“Hey, Sampson,” Noah said before I heard his truck door close. The sound of his voice made my stomach flip-flop. He crossed the yard with his tattooed hand shoved deep in his jeans, his eyebrows pinched together in afrown.
“Hey, you,” hesaid.
“Hey.” I took a swig of water andexhaled.
“I lost my phoneand—”
“Iknow.”
He nodded. “Hannah, I…” He swiped a hand through his hair and sighed. “I care aboutyou.”
“Yeah, I know. You’ve told me.” I’d had seven days to mull over everything. Seven days to overanalyze every word, every kiss, every lie. I had enough on my shoulders, and he had big things on the horizon. I was too much for anyone to take on, and he was too much for me tohandle.
“I don’t know what I’m doing. I suck at things like this, and with everything goingon…”
“Look, we made a mistake. It’s that simple.” I stared right at him, clenching my teeth and swallowing back every emotion I wanted to feel forhim.
“That’s what youthink?”
“Yep.” I pushed up from thestair.
“Jesus!” He groaned. “Would you stop! I care about you, damn it.” But that could have meant so manythings.
His nostrils flared, his eyes set hard on me and he closed the space between us, his hand coming to cup my cheek. He brushed at something on my face. I fought to keep my eyes on his, to not let my gaze fall to his lips. To not let my heart have a say in what I was doing, because I was doing what was best for us both.Wasn’tI?
My heart could only handle so much, and right then, all it could handle was my mother. Just as vulnerable as I was, he was too. It doesn’t take much to break the already broken. “Well, it’s not enough,” Isaid.
