Page 20
Story: You Have My Hart
I wasn’t in the mood for her quips. My jaw clenched as a searing heat coursed through my body. A tempest of emotions crashed against my restraint.
“I’m not in the mood.”
“You hardly are these days.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re not the same.”
Another person to point that out.
“People change, Ava,” I said. “It’s called evolving.”
She glanced at my wrist. Her focus fell on the argent line, contrasting with my natural tone. The scar ran deeper than just the surface. I pulled the sleeve of my jacket down.
The air grew heavy with unsaid words. Her uneasy eyes bounced everywhere but mine. I cleared my throat and ran my fingers through my hair.
“I think it’s best if I leave.”
She lowered her head, and I took that as my cue to leave.
??
I wiped the grease stains on my hands as I inspected the engine of my truck. The motored garage door was open, allowing the breeze to cool my overheated body down.
Tranquillity cocooned the neighbourhood, with the occasional rustling of leaves breaking the silence.
“You’ve been here for quite some time.”
My mom stood under the doorway that led into the house. Her tired eyes stared at me, yet the sparkle of wisdom never faded.
“Trying to keep myself busy,” I said. “Trying to stay out of trouble.”
She stood beside me as she leaned against my workstation, taking in the jumbled state of the vehicle.
“You always had a knack for fixing things.”
I folded one leg over the other as I leaned back against the cemented wall.
“It would calm me down.”
She placed her hand on my shoulder. She’d always been our fortress of solace.
“I’ve been worried about you.”
I couldn’t meet her eyes as remorse weighed on my shoulders and my gaze lingered on the engine of my truck.
I wanted to promise her I was okay, and that I wasn’t carrying a loaded secret in my back pocket, but I couldn’t lie to her. Not again.
“I appreciate that.”
“The Whitlock’s are coming for dinner tonight.”
She must have sensed I wasn’t in the mood for a heart-to-heart discussion. She squeezed my shoulder before retreating. I had to stop myself from pleading for her to stay.
Nothing I say or do could make up for what I’d done. What I’d been hiding.
Table of Contents
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- Page 20 (Reading here)
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