Page 133 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
“I know, I know. There’s more to it that I don’t understand other than you fucked up royally . . . well, royally unfuck yourself,” Nate says and shakes his head.
“Gee, thanks, Dad.” I roll my eyes and turn back onto the highway.
“Did you call her?”
“She won’t pick up.”
“Did you text her?”
“She won’t reply.”
“Did you stand there and pound on her door?”
“Ha.” The image of Leo flexing his muscles comes to mind. “Yeah. Something like that.”
“Did you send her flowers? Chicks always love flowers.”
“Not this chick,” I murmur, thinking I won’t test fate by sending them to her twice.
“Then what is it she likes? What is it that is unique to you two? Use whatever that is. Chicks dig uniqueness.”
“According to you, chicks dig everything.”
“Be original,” he repeats.
And I laugh. But as I glace at the Blue Skies sign one more time before we leave, an idea starts to form as a call comes across the radio.
“Grant?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Don’t you want to go out front and play?”
“No. I don’t feel like it.”
The screen door creaks. The wood of the porch flexes with each step she takes. The smell of her perfume fills my nose when she sits next to me.
“You miss her, huh?”
I nod instead of talk because my throat burns from trying to hold back the tears. Boys don’t cry over girls, but she’s gone, and all I want is to cry because I miss her.
My mom slips her arm around me and pulls me against her side. I concentrate on pushing the rocks on the porch beside me around with my finger instead of crying.
“Why did she have to go?”
I’m the reason she left.
She made me promise, and I told.
I’m the reason she left.
“She’s gone for just a bit. She and her mommy are at the hospital for—”
“Is she sick?”
“No.” My mom makes that one word sound so sad. “She’s just not feeling well.”
“But why—”
