Page 7 of Love Rewritten

I shrug, unsure what to say to that. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve never had anyone truly interested about my writing. Well, other than your dad, I suppose.”

Dallas sighs, likely remembering the last encounter he had with his father, the day he found out I worked for Dr. Kraus. Not exactly a memory I’m fond of, nor is he, I’m sure. “My father loves what he does. I think he wishes one of his kids would have gotten that creative gene, but alas, we did not.”

The thought of Dallas trying to write a story, even a couple of lines for that matter, makes me laugh. “I think you look better in a baseball uniform.”

He purses his lips. “Do you now?”

I shrug, not letting on just how much I enjoy seeing him in those white pants.

“Dallas!” Aubrey calls from the other side of the bar. “This isn’t social hour.”

He groans. “Duty calls.” He leaves me to my fries and writing to finish his shift. Day by day, hour by hour even, he seems to get more and more frustrated with her.

When we get back home, Dallas’s phone rings as we walk through the door.

“Hey, Mom,” he answers. I can’t hear what she’s saying on the other end, but his face tightens with each passing second. He tucks the phone into his chest before turning to me. “I’ll be right back.” He disappears into his room, closing the door behind him. Must be serious.

I haven’t talked to his mom since seeing her at the hospital. She hasn’t tried reaching out since I was discharged, and Dallas hasn’t pushed the idea of using her as my attorney any further either. I have successfully shoved any ideas of the legal pursuit to the back of my mind, so I’m hoping this phone call isn’t about that.

Choosing to press charges was a tough decision and not a regretful one. But progress only happens when I start. As usual, I haven’t worked through any of my problems. I just run and hide from them.

My nerves ease when Dallas walks out of his room with a smile. He shoves his phone into his pocket at the same time that my own phone rings. With a peek at the caller ID, the nerves come flooding back. I take a deep breath before answering what could be an incredibly awful conversation.

“Hey, Mom.” Another deep breath. I haven’t talked to my mom since my birthday. I haven’t updated her on anything between Sam and me. She has no idea about Dallas. She doesn’t know I moved out.

“Did you and Sam move?” she asks by way of greeting.

Or so I thought.

I look over at Dallas, who has taken a seat on the couch. “I’ll be right back," I say as I go hide in my room. Who knew our moms were thinking on the same wavelength this evening?

The emotions surely show on my face as panic sets in. I wrack my brain for the right words. “What makes you say that?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I tried forwarding some mail to you, but everything keeps getting returned.” She doesn’t sound upset. Just confused.

“What mail? I can come pick it up.” If I can avoid explaining everything right now, maybe it’ll give me some time to figure out the right way to tell her what’s been going on. But right now, I don’t have the right words for that. It’ll come out jumbled and I’m sure—no, I know—I’ll start crying. I need to buy myself some time to think this through.Fuck.

“I’m not sure. Some of it is probably junk mail but I wasn’t sure if you’d want it. One of them looks like a medical bill of some sort. I didn’t open it. I just assumed you had your annual checkup or something. I can check if you want.”

There’s shuffling on the other end of the line and I immediately yell, “No!” The shuffling stops. “No, sorry. That’s okay. Just a normal bill. I’ll come pick everything up.”

“Are you sure? Or I can bring it to you. I haven’t been to campus in a while. We haven’t seen each other since before Sam left for his business trip. How did that go by the way? He hasn’t reached out to me about it, and I didn’t want to be the annoying helicopter mom and ask all the time.”

Right. God forbid you add another label to the ever-growing list. “That’s okay. I’ll come pick it up sometime. Just set it on my bed for now. And any other mail that comes.”Please don’t open that bill.I don’t need her to see that right now. I quickly add, “Sam’s trip went well,” before I forget because Lord knows that’s really what she cares about. I’d rather make up some bogus excuse about Sam’s trip than try to explain the medical bill to her.

“Good! I know he was so excited about it. I’ll have to call him and have a chat.”

“No!” I yell again but realize that was far too dramatic for a simple phone call. “Now’s not really a good time. He’s been so busy with work. I’ll let him know you called, though, and see if he can squeeze you into his busy schedule. I’m sure it won’t be an issue.” The lie slides from my lips easily, an unwanted skill I’ve picked up. Surely, she can hear the pounding of my heart through the tiny speaker.

“Of course!” she says excitedly. “I wouldn’t want to get in the way of my little money maker.”Hermoney maker. My eyes roll so hard I’m sure they almost pop out of my head. “You tell him I called. I’ll be excited to hear from him when he’s available.”

“All right, Mom.”

“Okay, honey. I’ll see you soon then. Goodbye.”

“See you soon. Bye.” I let her hang up the phone before I sink to the floor, trying to regain my composure. The shallow, frantic breathing subsides as I try to focus on the fact that I successfully evaded my mom's original question. I’m not ready to explain everything to her. When I feel like I’ve calmed down enough that it won't show on my face, I exit my room. Dallas and Logan sit on the couch watching a basketball game. I hesitantly join them, taking a seat next to Dallas.

“All good?” Dallas asks, barely taking his attention off the TV.

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