Page 114 of Don't Go Breaking My Heart
The words rattle around in my skull like a ping pong ball in a dryer.
Not mine.
Not even a baby bit mine.
I make a noise that could mean anything—agreement, acknowledgement, a cry for help—my eyes darting toward the bedroom hallway.
“Oh, and—get this—he cut himself with a box cutter trying to trim a cardboard box ten minutes ago. That’s why he’s in the bathroom. He said it wasn’t bad, but I swear, if there’s blood on that hoodie, I’m going to make him buy me a new one.”
IT’S HIS HOODIE! I want to shout.
I force a smile so brittle it might crack my face. “Sounds like you two are close.”
She beams. “Oh yeah. He’s my favorite person in the whole world.”
I nod again.
Stiff.
Controlled.
Trying not to combust.
Turner rounds the corner, barefoot, hair tousled like he’s been running a hand through it, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants slung low on his hips and no shirt in sight. Just bare chest, tan skin, and a bandage wrapped around one hand like it’s no big deal.
My eyes flick to the gauze, then back up to his face, trying to read… something. Anything.
He doesn’t look surprised to see me.
“Oh, hey,” he says, as if he forgot we might both exist in the same room. “Poppy. You’re home.”
There’s a pause.
I arch a brow, my face a picture of pleasant neutrality. “Apparently.”
His jaw tics. “Uh—this is Georgia.”
The girl on the couch waves. “Hi again!”
I smile, sharp and shiny. “You two seem...cozy.”
Turner opens his mouth, then—bless him—closes it again, brow furrowing like he’s choosing his words carefully as not to make things worse.
“Georgia is my little sister. Remember, I told you about her before?”
Silence.
Then—
“Yourwhat?”
He had told me about her once before. Georgia is the sister in college, Stella is the sister with two children. And I. Am. A. Moron.
I wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole. Preferably while I’m still clutching my dignity. But beggars can’t be choosers and so I’m forced to stand here and be embarrassed.
“Georgia, this is Poppy. My roommate.”
His sister rises from the couch, mouth curved into a knowing smile. “Roommate. Right.”I know bullshit when I see it.
