Page 49 of The Heartbreak Blitz

“Clearly, I don’t care about that.”

“Well, you might. Once we get to the parts where I’m actually supposed to do something.”

I smile at her. “So, there’s going to be more?”

“Of course that’s what you would hear.”

“Hey,” I reach out, resting my palm on her cheek. Then I lean down and press a kiss to her lips.

She’s stiff at first, and I realize this is our first kiss. This delicate brush. I savor it, leaving my lips pressed against hers a moment longer before I pull away. “One step at a time, Sunshine.”

14

Charley

Who knew having multiple orgasms would be such a mood booster?

For the first time while I’m doing the mundane tasks in the morning, it doesn’t feel like a life sentence. Scramble the eggs. Fry up the bacon. I can text Cade if I want. Make the toast. Pour the orange juice. I could even see him soon if I want.

My phone dings, and I take it out of my pocket.

Cade: Good morning, Sunshine. I still wish you would’ve let me drive you home last night. You’re not letting me be chivalrous.

I smile, tapping the side of my glittering purple case.

Me: At least I texted you this time.

Cade: Sounds like you want a reward…

Why does everything out of this man’s mouth sound so dirty? He could charm the pants off a nun, I swear.

Me: I don’t know if my body can take it.

Cade: Well, now you just threw down a challenge.

I slip my phone away before my cheeks turn to ashes alongside Dad’s breakfast. I fill up his plate and take it out to him. A newscaster drones on in the background while I return for my own plate and juice.

It’s been a while since I ate with my dad. When I was growing up, we ate every meal together. Then, one day, everything changed. I can’t remember the exact day, but there had to have been a definitive cutoff. The day he went from being a participating member of the family to deciding life was too much.

He started eating his meals right where he is now, and it hasn’t changed in years. For a year or so, I ate with him. Then I switched back to the dining room table like I saw everyone on TV doing. But then I realized it was just me. And one person doesn’t make a family.

So I decided then and there that I would eat wherever I wanted. Well, today, for no other reason than I want to, I set my plate on the tray and start to eat alongside Dad.

The thing about eating with a recluse, though, is that you can’t ask them normal questions. Questions about the weather were out. Questions about whether they saw the accident on Main Street yesterday were out. It makes for limited conversation, but Dad glances over at me out of the corner of his eye while I shovel scrambled eggs into my mouth.

“Mmm.” My eyes close. The perfect amount of garlic.

“What’s that?” he asks.

My eyes fly open. I nearly forgot that I wasn’t by myself. “The eggs are good,” I say, and it feels like I’m holding my hand out, waiting to see if he’s going to grab it or not. He still hasn’t spoken to me much since the away game.

“They are,” he mutters.

I can’t help my eyebrows from shooting up. I can’t remember him ever giving me a compliment on my food before. The only thing out of his mouth were orders on what to make, though he’s relaxed on that a bit. Except for when I tried to cook him healthy meals.

Avocados. Egg whites. Chicken breast. Broccoli.

He screamed at me like I’d taken someone’s life. That’s when it dawned on me that, to him, it probably was like that. Foodishis life.

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