Page 15 of Back To You

Not only was I the one to tell our friends about the break-in at her apartment, but I didn’t give her a choice on whether or not she was staying with me—not to mention my choice in herovernight essentials.

I completely deserved going to bed with nothing but the memory of how it felt to be on my knees for Annie Mitchell while she was fast asleep a room away from me.

Today is Saturday, and I have the closing shift at the bar, so my morning and afternoon were spent making myself busy around my apartment and mentally kicking myself in the balls every time I glanced at the door hoping Annie was back or checked my phone thinking she’d text me.

It took almost a whole year when I first started working at Lenny’s to get her to unblock my number, so it’s a silly thought that she would suddenly be sending me her hourly whereabouts just because she’s staying with me for a month.

The only texts I get from her are in group chats we have with our friends.

I also had to resist the nagging urge to peek into the guest room, especially when Rosie kept scratching at the closed door, further proving Annie’s point that my own dog likes her more than me.

The masochistic side of me always wants to feel close to Annie, even if it’s the literal version of playing with fire knowing that I’ll get burned. I couldn’t stop myself from peeking into the guest room, telling myself it was just to make sure she had everything she needed.

With the temptation subsided, it confirmed for me that Annie may be the love of my life, but she isstillthe biggest slob who never makes her bed and leaves messes everywhere she goes.

Messes that I would gladly clean for her if it wouldn’t make her threaten to cut off my hands.

There’s no guidebook on how to be roommates with your ex-girlfriend who hates your guts for reasons still unknown to you. The same ex-girlfriend who you have loved from afar for seven years and now will be under the same roof as you.

My feelings for Annie are already mind-fucking enough, and having her close yet so far is going to be my own personal hell.

She starts her last year of vet school in a month, and I’m supposed to be moving back home to fulfill my role as my brother’s replacement with my dad and oldest brother in a few weeks. The position at the law firm has been my end goal ever since my senior year of high school, but I wish I had more time.

I don’t know when—if ever—I’ll get a chance like this again.

I’m about to head over to Lenny’s when my phone rings.

I ignore the embarrassing flip in my stomach when I think for a millisecond that it’s Annie, and I externally groan when I see who’s actually calling.

It takes me a few seconds to decide if I want to deal withhimnow or later.

If I answer the phone now, it’ll probably ruin the rest of my day.

If I wait to call him back another day, it will probably ruin multiple days.

I decide to go with the former, answering the call before it can go to voicemail.

“What’s up, Dad?” I say into the phone, no longer having that sense of hope that he’s calling to check up on me or ask how I’m doing.

The hope I used to have.

The hope that led me to disappointment every time my father showed me I was nothing more than spare for the son who didn’t meet Daniel Owens’ expectations.

I realized that accepting I was only a subject of my dad’s attention because my brother, Bennett, went against my father’s wishes and dropped out of law school to become a firefighter was easier than trying to convince dear old Dad that being a replacement for Bennett isn’t my only purpose in life.

There’s no hope when I answer his calls. There’s just anger—at him but also myself—that I ever believed he cared about me.

I know he’s only calling because he needs something.

“When are you starting?” my dad barks out.

He’s called me more in these past two months since I graduated law school than he has since my first year. At least when he used to call back then, he would say hello or ask how my classes were going.

Now, there is no trace of that doting, committed father.

It was all an act to begin with anyway.

“Soon,” I answer, not wanting to give him an exact date. “I still have to talk to my boss at the bar.”

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