Page 19 of Broken Dream

I lift a hand to wave to her.

She doesn’t see me at first, but then she looks over at me.

Her eyes widen.

“You need some help?” I ask.

She quickens her pace. “No, I’ve got it!”

Yet as she pulls at the handle of the bin with small, gloved hands, it’s clear that she doesn’t. Or maybe she does. If she’s lived here a while, she’s obviously dragged her garbage can into her garage many times before now.

I take a few steps toward her and?—

She stumbles backward, losing her grip on the large trash can. A soft gasp escapes her lips, and in that moment, she reminds me of my Lindsay—that shimmer of stubbornness in her eyes, her unwillingness to give in or give up.

“Are you sure?” I ask again, already moving toward her before she can answer.

She stares daggers into me. “I’m sure.”

She lugs the large bin into her garage and then closes the door.

And that’s that.

Angie Simpson lives three doors away from me.

And I never knew it.

Fuck.

Chapter Seven

Angie

My heart is beating a mile a minute.

Dr. Lansing? Jason? Jason, who kissed me like no man has ever kissed me before?

He’s my damned neighbor?

How did I not know this?

I’m not the neighborly type. I didn’t go knock on doors and introduce myself, and no one came to my home bearing homemade cookies or a casserole.

I don’t have time to think about it. I need to clear up the clutter because my study buddies will be here in half an hour for pizza.

Which I should probably order.

Tillie scampers into the kitchen, sniffing at my feet. She gives me an inquisitive look. She can tell I’m unsettled.

I kneel and scratch her ear. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, girl.”

I also should’ve listened to their discussion about pizza toppings. All I remember is Ralph’s no-anchovies edict.

Everybody likes cheese and pepperoni, right? Tabitha said she’s not vegan, and her sandwich had meat on it. Ralph and Eli also ate meat. Pepperoni and cheese it is.

I put in the order on a food app and then go into my bedroom. I pull my hair out of its ponytail and brush it out, letting it float around my shoulders. Then I change out of my jeans and T-shirt and into leggings, a long sweatshirt, and fuzzy socks. My usual study attire. I see no reason to change my habit just because three classmates are coming over.

I walk back out, hang up some coats that are just lying around, and then head to the kitchen to clean up in there.