Page 97 of Breakaway Hearts

“Didn’t really care,” I lie, because I need to, and I shouldn’t, but he doesn’t look hurt, he looks like he knows.

“Last girl who brought it up asked me who Vi was, got super pissed when I told her I didn’t know anyone by that name, and it wasn’t until Jules asked me the same question that I figured it out.”

“Too smart for your own good,” I tease, but he takes it as a compliment. “So there’s Tab, Katie…” I wait for him to continue.

“Katie’s not my sister,” he argues.

“Oh.” My confusion must show, because he laughs.

“My oldest sibling is Sarah, who has two kids, Katie and Justin. She’s three years older than me, but I’m Uncle Owen, because she thinks it’s hilarious.”

“Unusual, at least.”

“Jared is a firefighter, or I guess he’s the Chief now and doesn’t actually fight fires, but he’s good to know if you have kids, because they go apeshit over firetrucks.”

“Why do I get the impression you still go apeshit over them?” I remember him telling me that’s what he wanted to be when he was younger.

“Because they’re awesome. If the NHL doesn’t pan out, that’s where I’m heading.”

“I can kind of see it.”

“Because they’re sexy and people put them on calendars?”

“And now you’ve lost me,” I say, though I know he was teasing.

“Next is Kyle,” he continues like I didn’t say anything. “He spent years in the NAVY, active duty, and just moved back here for a desk job I think he hates so he can spend more time with his kids, which he loves. The older two are chill, but the twins are as adorable as they are terrifying,” he says like he knows this from experience, and is warning me not to pet the lion cub.

“Rachel is the youngest of the older ones, the only one we’ve actually lived with, but there’s still a fourteen-year age difference. She made most of the art at the house, not sure if you’ve noticed the sculptures and the paintings, but it’s called therapy when she does it. She’s a social worker with a bunch of degrees who does a lot of group sessions, especially with kids who have parent issues.”

“Is Sarah a nurse or a cop?” I guess.

“Doctor.” He looks confused. “But her mom was a cop.”

Right, he’d mentioned that. Sierra.

“Sorry, I was being a smartass because every one of your siblings has devoted their life to service.”

“Are you trying to say they take after their mom while Tab and I take after our dad?” he asks, looking offended. Or hurt.

“No, not at all, I…”

“Because that would be totally accurate,” he assures me, and I want to lean over and punch him. “But if I don’t get drafted, I promise I’ll redeem myself.”

“It’s just a job,” I point out. “I never knew most of that.” Not that I really follow gossip magazines, but even in the articles I’ve read, the most they mention about Christopher Glass’ family is that he has a bunch of kids and one of them is married to Nick Carver. And Ryan Brooks is his brother-in-law. My mom absolutely loved him when I was little.

“Maybe because you usually try your best to not get to know me.” Owen is smiling, but he looks hurt. And he’s right, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.

Not that I’d admit it, but whenever I wanted to know something about him people weren’t volunteering, I usually asked Tab or Sav, sometimes Jay, anyone so Owen wouldn’t know. Which kind of defeats the purpose of not asking…the whole not knowing and not feeling. Dating – and not dating – are clearly not things I am good at.

“Here you are,” he says, pulling up to my building.

“Owen, I…”

“It’s okay,” he assures me. “I get it. But dating is one thing. Friends could be another.” He looks so hopeful.

I wish it were that easy.

“Thank you for the ride. I really appreciate it,” I say instead.