Page 41 of Heart Breaker

Yeah, probably shouldn’t have said that part out loud. The problem is, I meant it. And judging by the slight pink rising in her cheeks as she walks back toward the island, she knows that I meant it.

Lottie pops a piece of popcorn in her mouth, crunching thoughtfully before pointing at me. “You know what’s weird?”

“That’s a dangerous way to start a sentence.”

“You don’t really act like a rich person.”

I laugh. “I’m sorry?”

She shrugs, fighting a smile around another sip of wine. “I don’t know. I expected more… billionaire energy.”

I sit back in my chair, wondering where she’s going with this. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Like…” She gestures vaguely around the room. “A private chef. A helicopter pad. Yacht shoes.”

“How do you know I don’t own yacht shoes?” I ask.

“If you do, I need to see them. Immediately,” she teases.

“Fine, I don’t. But I’ll get some if it means that much to you.”

“It does.” She grins into her glass.

“For the record, I do own a watch that cost an offensive amount of money.”

“There it is!” she says triumphantly. “I knew it. I knew you had at least one terrible personality trait.”

“Just one?”

“Oh, I’m sure there are more. We’re still getting to know each other.”

Something about the way she says it settles warm in my chest. Getting to know each other, not just surviving each other. Not just waiting out the year.

“You act like I grew up like this,” I tell her after a second.

Her expression shifts. “You didn’t?”

“Not even close.”

She studies me curiously now, chin resting lightly in her hand.

“My brothers and I built Cove into what it is from the ground up,” I continue. “Before that, things were pretty rough for a long time.” She stays quiet, listening, waiting for me to continue. And weirdly, I want to tell her more. “My mom died when I was ten,” I say finally. “After that… things in our house changed.”

Something softens in her expression instantly.

I stare down into my wine glass, rolling it slowly between my fingers. “My dad didn’t handle it well. Started drinking too much. Got angry a lot. The four of us mostly just learned how to survive our house until we got older.”

“Wes,” she says softly. “I’m sorry.”

I give her a small shrug, because talking about this still feels unfamiliar. “You don’t have to be sorry. It was a long time ago.” I look down at the floor. “You can’t miss what you don’t remember.”

“I’m still sorry,” she says. “It’s not fair that you had to lose your mom that young.” She gives me a soft look. “You’re not mourning memories, Wes. You’re mourning everything you never got to have.”

My chest pulls painfully tighter at the way she says it. She’s not trying to fix it, I think she’s just trying to understand me.

“I don’t know what it’s like to lose a parent like that, it must have been so hard,” she says, and I can hear the emotion in her voice. “My dad’s still here, but ever since he got sick, it feels like the clock started ticking in the background. I hear it constantly.”

“Every time my phone rings at night, I feel sheer panic before I answer it.” Her eyes lift to mine. “And every time I leave their house, I have this horrible feeling in my stomach wondering if things are going to be worse the next time I see him. Or if…” She pauses and I wait. “If there might not be a next time. He tries so hard to act normal, and my mom pretends too, but I can see it in both of them. They’re scared.” She swallows hard. “And honestly, so am I.”