Page 13 of Healing Hearts
“Some heroes are altruistic. That’s not me,” I say, and all I can think about is how soft her lips would feel under mine, which is all kinds of wrong. But the thought is there, insistent.
“You’re one of those morally gray heroes, are you?”
“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, and it’s pretty fucking sexy,” I say, biting my lip. “I love it when you go all book smart on me.”
She laughs and pushes my chest, making me take a step back. “You’re terrible.”
Emily’s phone on the table chimes at the same time the phone in my pocket vibrates. I take it out and frown at the display.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “They’re closing all the roads in the county. I better get going.”
“If they’re closing the roads, you can’t drive on them, Trent. If you get in an accident, that’s an insurance nightmare. Just stay here. I have a spare room.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, indecisive, and scroll through all the weather alerts. “It’s not going to let up, though, Em. I could be stuck here a while.”
“I’m sure we can find some way to fill the time,” she says with a shrug.
And I really wish I hated all the dirty places my mind goes, but I’m used to having these thoughts about Emily and not following through. It’s become almost like second nature—think incredibly dirty, friendship-destroying thoughts, act on exactly zero of them.
Just then, as though to remind me that I shouldn’t be having any of these thoughts about My Emily, a text rolls in from tonight’s date, asking whether I’m on the road.
Immediately, I write back that I’m stuck in Little Falls with the road closures. She textsBoo!!and then probably blocks me. I’ve been out with her a couple times, and she’s become progressively more unhinged. It’s possible she’ll show up in Little Falls looking for me. Might be for the best that I’m not keeping this date tonight.
“You all right over there?” Em asks, nodding at my phone.
“Just canceling my date.”
“Violet getting a little violent?”
“Potentially,” I say with a little laugh. “She’s probably calling me an asshole to all her friends right now.”
“Maybe you should start dating a different sort of woman,” she suggests.
“What would be the fun in that?”
“You know there’s nothing wrong with engaging in a serious, committed relationship.”
“I find that to be a very interesting comment coming from you,” I say, dropping my phone back into my pocket and taking off my coat to hang it over a kitchen chair.
“Hey, I’ve done serious and committed.”
“Me too,” I say.
“No, you have not.”
“I have.”
“Name one person.”
“Your sister.”
“We both know that’s total bullshit.” She laughs.
“I was seriously committed to that lie for a whole year. That’s impressive. You have to admit that.”
“I admit nothing,” she says.
That’s fair. I’m glossing over the wide-reaching consequences of that lie, so it’s probably best if we leave it there.
