Page 125 of Paper Hearts

Beside her, she reaches for her hat and places it on her head. “Doesn’t mean I haves to like him.”

“No, it doesn’t. But you should.”

She stands beside the bed, her nightgown touching her toes. It’s mine, but she refuses to give it back. Little thief. “Whens will you be back?”

“Probably after you’re asleep, but I’ll see you first thing when you wake up in the morning.”

She sighs, her shoulders rolling forward again. “Okay.”

“I’ll bring you home a cookie. And you can have it for breakfast.”

“Okay.” She turns toward the door and runs down the hallway. “Ben, I gets a cookie in the morning.”

Looks like I’m bringing two home.

* * *

I meet Ender outside.He comes out of the house wearing gray cargo shorts and a black T-shirt that clings to his bulging biceps. There’s uncertainty in his posture, as if he doesn’t know where this night will take us. Or maybe it’s nervousness.

“Hey,” I say, watching him approach me.

“You look beautiful.” He stands next to me, his eyes searching mine. They dip to my lips and there’s hesitation in his. If I look closely, there’s a tremble to his hands. “Ready?”

“I think,” I tease. “Eddie has demanded a cookie.”

His lips quirk and his gaze lifts to the house behind me. “I miss her already. That’s crazy, right?”

“No. When she was born, I couldn’t put her down. She was literally held constantly the first few days.”

“I wish I would have been there,” he says, following me. “I would have held both of you.”

I glance over my shoulder to see he’s close, his body reactive to my every move. I press my lips together and sigh. “I’m sorry that you weren’t.” I close my eyes and take another step toward his truck. My stomach feels sick, because even after all the wrongs, all the mistakes, I want this with him. I can write a million memories of the one behind me and none of them give me the answer my head tells me. They all want the one my heart aches for and that’s him.

“I’m leaving this up to you, Hads,” Ender says, running his hand up my spine. “I’ll be there for whatever you need. Financially, whatever. I don’t want you doing this on your own.”

“I can, and I have been for six years,” I remind him.

There’s that sadness again. He rakes a hand through his hair. He closes his eyes, shaking his head and smirks. “I know, but I want a chance.”

I nod. “I promised you a date. And I’ll give it to you.”

He smiles and tips his head toward his truck. “Lead the way.”

My boots crunch on gravel beneath my feet. I adjust my dress strap and reach for the warm metal handle. “I can’t believe you still have this,” I note when we’re at his truck.

Ender chuckles and opens the door for me. It groans with the action, squeaking. “It’s seen better days. I wrecked and ever since then it hasn’t been the same.”

I slide onto the bench seat, tucking my dress underneath me. The leather seat is warm, cracked, but the truck still smells like him. Gasoline, grease, and old leather heated by the sun. I touch my fingers to the rip in the seat that’s always been there. “When did you wreck it?”

His eyes drop to my legs, one hand on the door, the other on the side of the cab. “The night I left.”

My heart beats faster thinking about the last six years. I place my bag on my lap as he closes the door. That’s when I remember the book is in my bag. Granny handed it back to me last night when she left and I tucked it inside my bag and forgot about it.

I pull it out as Ender starts the truck and I stare at the cover. My fingers trace the title and the bubbled font outlining Paper Hearts. Our summers, our regrets, lies, forgiveness.

I think back to when Ender asked if I read what he wrote. I’d forgotten to look but there, in the back of the book, is Ender’s note.

THE TIME I FUCKED UP

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