Saylor

“What do you mean?”

“I think he was jealous. Turner struggles to make friends and has a pretty crappy self-esteem, thanks to his sperm donor. The only adult male influence he had for the first six years of his life was extremely negative. He’s picked up some bullying tendencies, regardless of how much his mom and I have been working to curb them. It’s affected his ability to make friends, which only perpetuates the problem. I was wondering if….” I dig my teeth into my tongue as my knee bounces up and down beneath the desk.

“If what?” Owen prods, drowning me with that same intensity that first caught my attention in high school. I was never able to keep secrets from him. He always had a way of pulling them out of me with a single look.

“I, uh….” I shake my head in hopes of snapping myself out of whatever spell he’s cast on me. “I think Turner and Grady could get along really well if given the chance. They both like sports. They both like superheroes. I dunno…I think it could be good for them to get together outside of school. Would you like his mom’s number so you could set up a playdate or something? She’s pretty too. And single. Maybe you could kill two birds with one stone or something since you mentioned you’re single and all.”

His concerned gaze snaps to mine. “Say….”

I flinch back as though I’ve been slapped, s

ending me spiraling into the past we shared. The late nights. The stolen kisses. The moments that made me who I am today––for better or worse––no matter how many times I’ve tried to erase them in hopes of finding peace.

“Don’t call me that,” I breathe.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath and rubs his hand over his face. “Sorry, Miss Swenson. I didn’t mean––”

“I know.” With another subtle shake of my head, I try again. “I shouldn’t have offered to play matchmaker. That’s on me.”

“I’d love to set up a playdate for Grady. He misses his friends from our old place, and if you think Turner and Grady would be a good fit despite the fight on the playground, then so do I.”

“Sure thing.”

I dig out my cell phone and search for Mandy’s number before scrawling it on a Post-It note and handing it to Owen while making sure our fingers don’t touch.

I don’t think I’d be able to handle it.

“Here you go,” I offer.

“Thanks.”

“And, Miss Swenson?” he adds.

“Yes?”

“I’m not interested in dating his mom. I’m only going to use this number for Grady and Turner.”

“I don’t care what you do anymore, Owen. I stopped caring the moment you dumped me on my front porch, then had a kid with someone who wasn’t me.”

His expression falls. “Say––”

“Why’d you move back, Owen?” I growl. The question tumbles out of me before I can stop it. But it’s been rolling around in my head since the moment Sway and Anthony saw him in the hardware store. It’s been gaining momentum with every second I’ve spent wondering why he’s here and why he ever left in the first place.

He shakes his head, then stands to his full height. “I should get going.”

I scoff. “Oh. Right. Silly me. You refused to tell me why you were leaving, so why would you ever bother to explain why you’re back?”

“Say––”

“Stop calling me that. From here on out, I am Miss Swenson and only Miss Swenson. We are not friends. You are not the love of my life. And the only time we will interact is when your son is involved. We clear?”

He gives me a jerky nod before tucking his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “Good afternoon, Miss Swenson.”

“Bye, Mr. Daniels.”

Then he leaves. And the familiar sensation of his absence threatens to swallow me whole. Which is surprising. I’d been numb for so long that I’d forgotten what real pain feels like.

It sucks.