Mistakes I've Made (Broken Love Duet 1)

“What do you say we go out again next Saturday. There’s a great pizza joint in town and this time it will be just the two of us.”

“Reed, I really like you.”

“Good, I like you, too,” I return with a smile, praying I can build on that.

“It’s just…”

“Callie?”

“I just moved here and things. I’m not looking for a boyfriend right now. I have a lot of stuff going on at home.”

“We’ve just met. We can just get to know each other, Callie. Who knows what it will lead to?” I shrug, sounding a lot more relaxed than I am.

“I get the feeling whatever we become will only fuel some kind of war you have going on with your brother.”

“Callie,” I mutter, rubbing the side of my jaw.

“Am I wrong, Reed?” she asks, looking at me. The light inside the cab of her old car is dim and I can’t see her face that well. Right now, I really wish I could.

“I like you, Callie. I can honestly tell you that me wanting to spend time with you has nothing to do with my brother and everything to do with you.”

“And I like you, Reed, but I think, at least for now, we’d be better off as friends. Maybe in the future…” she murmurs, killing me.

“I can be your friend, but I need you to know that I’m not ready to give up on being more.”

“This is silly. We barely know one another, Reed.”

“Maybe, but I know I’m feeling a pull toward you that I’ve never experienced before.”

She rolls her eyes, and I don’t need good light to see that.

“How about we try friendship out, and see what happens?”

“I can deal with that,” I tell her, wanting to take her in my arms and kiss her senseless. She’s right, though. We don’t know each other well. I’m willing to take my time for her to get to know me. Hell, it will give me time to get my license so I can be the one to drive when we go out again.

We get out, and I close the door, standing there looking over the top of the car, as she does the same. I step backwards, shoving my hands into my pockets. She walks to the front of the vehicle, and we stare at one another. I watch her beautiful, full lips spread into a smile as she shakes her head. “I’ll see you around, Reed,” she says.

“I’ll see you soon,” I counter, pulling my bike away from the hedges in Callie’s yard. I climb on it, but I do it watching her walk away, climbing the steps to her house.

She makes me ache. I want her. I just hope I can convince her to try again. I’m going to have to talk to Mitch.

Maybe if I talk to him man to man, I can reason with him.

Shit.

7 Reed

“Are you sober?”

I nudge Mitch on his bed as I ask my question. It’s probably not the best way to approach him when I want him to be reasonable, but it’s about all I got in me. He flops over on his back, his tall, muscular body almost too big for the twin size beds we have in our room. Our beds are placed on each side of the window. Honestly, it’d be better if they were farther apart, but the room is small and that’s the best we can do. I start shop class next semester and I always figured my first project would be building a wall between me and my brother.

Mitch flops his arms above his head and looks at me.

“Sober as ever, I suppose,” he mutters. That, in Mitch-speak, means he’s not numb, so I guess I’ll take it.

“We need to talk.”

“Dad pulling shit again?” Mitch asks, and I frown. There’s something fucked up about life when the first thing you think of at the mention of your father is wondering if he’s beating the shit out of our mother again. He hasn’t laid a hand on her in a year. Not since I got big enough to help Mitch in defending her. Dad’s big as hell and surprisingly strong—despite the fact that his workout routine is lifting cheap whiskey to his mouth. Mitch and I both usually end up black, blue, and definitely bloody, but Mom always manages to crawl away mostly unscathed—at least physically.

“No, at least not that I know of. They were sleeping when I got in.”

“Late night with the hot chick? Way to go little brother.”

“Callie’s not like that, Mitch.”

“All chicks are like that, Reed.”

“Callie’s not. She’s sweet. Hell, she blushes. She’s good, Mitch.”

Mitch laughs. It’s a bitter sound that reminds me entirely too much of our father. When you live the life that we have, watching our dad every day can make you go down one of two roads. The one I chose is not touching alcohol. The other is where you become just like him, letting alcohol numb you. Mitch is well on that road already. The only time he’s mildly sober is when he’s at school and even then, he’s been drinking. He usually picks vodka because it’s easier to hide the smell on his breath. He’s also very careful not to drink too much. He saves that for evening. He may not drink every day, but the days that he doesn’t are getting few and far between.