"I know," I say without thinking.
"You remember my voice?" His tone is light and teasing. And I also hear how pleased it makes him that I haven't forgotten what he sounds like on the phone. For some reason I’m not panicked that he’s calling to tell me bad news, but I still want to make sure my mom is okay.
"How's my mom?"
"She's fine. I was calling to tell you my shift will be over about the same time your mom's treatment is finished, so I can bring her home. If you'd like, I mean. I don't want to step on your toes."
My mind flashes back to me telling him I can handle all this, but it would be nice to take my time at the grocery store. And we're supposed to be acting like the adults our age indicates we are, so maybe this is acceptable. Maybe I can let him help.
"Okay," I say, wishing now that I had drank more wine with Livvie.
"Okay, I can drive Faith home?"
I hear the surprise in his question. "Yes," I answer.
"I'll see you after a while, then."
"See you soon," I tell him, and scold myself for the butterflies that take flight in my belly.
I hang up at the same time as I reach the car.
When I get in, I flip down the visor and do a cursory check of my makeup and hair. That's when I see it. The smile I hadn't realized was plastered on my face. I swipe at my mouth as if the grin is a bright lipstick I can wipe off and find myself wondering if it’s because of Owen’s call or my new friend Livvie.
I have to remind myself that Owen is just a friend, and hardly even that. There is too much pain and history for there to be anything more. And that's the way it is going to stay.
Chapter 7
Owen
My thumbs beata loud rhythm on the steering wheel of my car as I think of Autumn. The way she narrowed her eyes at me when I'd asked her if we're the kind of friends that get coffee. Then she barked her short answer “another time,” before turning on her heel and striding away. The sway of her hips issued a challenge: catch me if you can. She wants to make me pay, and I don't blame her a damn bit. But why do I like pain so much, why do I keep poking the bear? I must have lain awake a thousand nights with Autumn Cummings’ name on my lips. I typed that phone number a million times. Kissed those lips hundreds of times. And it all turned to ashes over one night.
"I don't think I've ever seen someone so hyped up."
The muscles in my neck tense at the sound of Faith's voice. I'd been so lost in my thoughts I'd completely spaced that there was another person in my car, enjoying the concert my thumbs were putting on.
I look over at Faith. "What do you mean?"
She shrugs. "You tell me. You're the one who turned your steering wheel into a drum."
My fingers stop, the noise in the car ceasing. "Why are you asking me questions? I should be the one asking you questions. How do you feel?"
Faith has a keen sense of how a person is feeling inside. She missed her calling as a shrink.
She frowns. "Fine. Now, let's talk about why you're so nervous. And don't tell me you're not, because I've known you for a long time, and I like to think I know a lot about you by now."
"You do," I confirm, but a twinge of guilt scrapes at me. She doesn't know what really went down between Autumn and me. She is, however, the only person besides Ace who knows about what I'm going through with my dad.
"I think my daughter has something to do with your nerves. Or maybe she has everything to do with it." Faith raises an eyebrow and I chuckle. If that woman had it her way, Autumn and I would be married with two-point-five kids and living next door. That was the plan … always the plan.
"Seeing her again isn't easy," I admit. I still remember taking pictures the night of senior prom. Faith looked so proud to see Autumn and I make it through high school together.
Faith makes a sarcastic noise in her throat. "No kidding?"
I wonder what Autumn has told her and it reminds me of all those times I called Faith’s house freshman year of college begging her to get Autumn to return my calls.
“She told me if I speak your name again, she’ll disown me. What did you do, Owen?”Faith had growled. Having a woman I considered to be a second mother ask me what I did wrong really fucked with my eighteen-year-old head. That’s when the guilt and shame turned to anger. Anger at Autumn for not giving me a chance to right my wrongs, for leaving me to deal with the choice we made and no one to talk to about it.
"We talked today. We're going to do better. Be adult about it all," I said proudly.
