Page 7 of The Heart Shot
Hence why, after years of not dating, I finally bit the bullet and tried one of those dreaded dating apps. Unfortunately, Meridel was a small enough town that I didn’t think I’d ever meet my soulmate here.
Even more unfortunate was the string of truly terrible dates I’d been on over the last month. I cringed at the memories. One had body odor so terrible, I gagged into my elbow all night. One was still infatuated with her ex, another was only looking for a hookup, and the last was too engrossed in either her phone or flirting with the waiter to even bother conversing with me.
Clearly, I had been out of the dating scene for too long and an app was not the way to go. Or I was destined to be a bachelor for the rest of my life. It could go either way.
In the end, it was too much, so I deleted the app and called it quits—at least for now. If I met a girl down the road and we hit it off, so be it, but I wasn’t going to actively search one out.
I blew out a breath as I arrived at my mom’s apartment door, pausing to collect myself and shove those bad dates into a corner of my mind I couldn’t reach.Knocking twice, I opened the door and immediately regretted it. A familiar blonde sat in the chair next to my mom, grinning her signature mischievous, scheming grin.
“Hey Jam-Jam,” my cousin, Maya, called. Her voice reminded me of Emma’s when she was hiding something. It was a little too high, too forced, and full of secrets. Instinctively, I went on alert as I nodded hello, holding back a cringe at the nickname she made up for me when I went through my guitar playing phase as a teen.
Emma and Maya had become close when my mom had first gotten sick. Maya was great—like a sister to me—but her personality was strong, and she loved to push each and every one of my buttons, which was a feat in itself because I was known for being calm and composed. She liked to go on these “quests,” as she called them, where she tried tobetterme. Whether that was fixing my wardrobe, or finding me a job where I worked fewer hours, or—to my absolute horror—fixing me up on dates.
In truth, I appreciated her efforts, but I didn’t need my cousin to fix me. I could do that all by myself.I had taken care of my mom and sister—and done a pretty good job of it—when everything went downhill. I was perfectly capable of adulting on my own, thank you very much.
“How are you doing, Mom?” I asked, kneeling in front of her chair.
She gave me a gentle pat on the cheek. “I’m just fine, dear. I’m glad you could come.”
Since she moved out of my house, we had a standing dinner date every Wednesday. It had been her decision to move out, to let me get on with my life, but seeing each other regularly was important to us.
I only wished my cousin hadn’t made a habit of joining us. Though, with Emma off at college, and Maya’s parents essentially out of the picture, I had a feeling she simply wanted a place to belong.
“Ready for dinner?” I asked, avoiding Maya’s watchful eyes.
“Yes, dear,” my mom said as I took hold of her hand to help her out of her chair. While she was thankfully in remission, the medicine that helped cure the cancer had left her bones brittle and her body weak—which was why she lived here rather than on her own.
“Maya will be joining us,” she added when we were halfway to the door. Maya gave me a saccharine smile, the perfect picture of innocence.
I suppressed a sigh, plastering a smile on my face despite the feeling of foreboding hanging over me as we walked down the hall to the dining room. What meddling would my cousin attempt today?
The scent of gamy meat overwhelmed my senses as we rounded the corner into the dining room. It was stew day, my least favorite of their questionable meals. Mom and Maya took a seat next to each other at the four-person table, and I plopped down across from them. As soon as we were situated, a nurse brought out bowls of stew, some bread, and a pitcher of iced tea and placed it before us.
Mmm. Brown mush. My favorite.
I poured myself a glass of tea and took miniscule sips to prolong not eating the stew. It wasn’t that it was bad—it simply wasn’t good.
Oh, who was I kidding? No optimism could save this food. It was awful, like eating moist dirt with vegetables.
It was some odd texture, too—like brown jello with thick chunks of tough meat and hard veggies. I lifted some on my spoon and fought down a gag, letting it fall back in the bowl with aplop. I politely played with my spoon in the mush, making it appear as if I were eating it, nibbling on bread, and sipping tea in even increments.
I had avoiding eating this stew down to a science.
Of course, Maya’s shrewd eyes missed nothing, and she snorted at me more than once. My mom had no such qualms about the food and had already scarfed down most of her bowl. She was either used to the mediocre meals here or she wanted to finish it quickly and get it over with.
“So,” Maya started, interrupting my stew swirling. “I have a favor to ask.”
I blew out a breath, forcing the corners of my lips upward into a smile. Here came the meddling.
“I have an assignment for my photography class where I have to come up with a unique photoshoot idea and implement it.” Maya paused, glancing at me for a reaction. When I said nothing, she continued. “Everyone else has super lame ideas, but I have the perfect one, and it’ll really help my portfolio.”
“And how does this include me?”
“I need you to be one of the models for the shoot.”
I huffed out a laugh. “I’m not a model.”
She barked a laugh of her own. “Have you seen yourself, Jam-Jam?” Maya shook her head as if I’d said something preposterous. “The concept is simple. Two strangers who have never met before—”
