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It’s been weird this past week, staying away from him when we’ve lived in each other’s pockets for most of the summer. On the occasions I’ve stopped by to help him finish up the house, I’ve sometimes felt like he wanted to say something about us. Iknow I have. I know I’ve wanted him to take me to bed again. I’ve wanted him every minute he hasn’t been holding me. I thought that ripping the Band-Aid off meant the pain was harsh at first but would quickly die down. So why does it feel like it’s getting worse?

My mom breaks my trance by waving a hand in front of my face. “I’m here with the wine and snacks.” She picks up a grocery bag and waggles it in front of her.

“Oh, yeah, that’s really sweet, but actually, I have to go out in like an hour.” I look down at my watch and wince. “More like forty-five minutes.”

Her face drops. “Oh, I thought maybe we could catch up. Maybe tomorrow night?”

I wince, again. “I’m in Seattle from tomorrow until Sunday night before school starts back on Monday.”

“Oh. Why?”

I turn and walk through to the kitchen, and Mom follows after me. Opening the wine she bought and handing her a glass, we take a seat at my kitchen table. “I’m going to see some friends.”

“Friends?”

Yes, Mom, I do have some.

“Yeah, well, through another friend.”

She takes a sip of her wine, a puzzled look across her face. “I didn’t know you knew anyone from Seattle.”

“He’s from here but lives there now.”

“He? Who?”

I shrug and turn my back, heading toward the refrigerator and pull out the salad I prepared for the barbecue. “Zach Evans.”

I swear I feel a spray of chardonnay as it hits the back of my neck. “As in the NHL player? As in who you went to school with?”

“Yep,” I say, coming back to join her at the table. I touch the back of my neck to check it didn’t actually get sprayed with wine. “We kind of re-connected this summer, and he invited me to attend the annual gala for his hockey foundation.”

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“I haven’t. We’re friends.”

“Okay, I’ll rephrase. How long have you been sleeping with him?”

“I’m not.”

She cocks her head to the side and throws me a look all mothers seem to have mastered, a look ofplease.

I down the rest of my wine in one gulp. “I stopped sleeping with him a couple of weeks ago. I took a step back. We’re at different places in our lives, and he’s just out of a bad relationship. Something more wouldn’t work, especially with the long distance.”

No matter how amazing it could be.

She raises a brow. “You’re wise. Take it from a more experienced woman. Men break your heart in exchange for sex.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

ZACH

“Well, I think the place looks incredible now that it’s all finished.” Mom sets a coffee down in front of me.

“Thanks. It turned out better than I thought, the flooring especially.”

“Are you still planning to keep it?”

I nod and sit back on the couch. “Yeah, I don’t need to sell it.”