Page 62 of Broken Boundaries

The woman scans my bag, and as I’m paying, loudly asks, “Now do you know how to use this, dear?”

“Yep, I got it.”

“It’s important to take this at the same time every day. I’ve seen too many girls your age not take it right and end up pregnant.”

“I know. I have a reminder set on my phone, but thank you.” I take the clear bag from her outstretched hand and move away from the desk as quickly as I can, trying to unzip my purse so I can shove it in there. But before I can get it in, I run into something. Not something. Someone.

I drop the bag and look up at Brooks, whose hands are on my arms to steady me.

“Whoa. Where are you runnin’ off to, darlin’?”

Oh god. Why does he have to call me darlin’? He hasn’t said it in weeks, but hearing the nickname again makes me want to melt right here and now. Judging by the little smirk he gives me, I think he knows exactly how much I enjoy it.

“Oh, not running. Just didn’t want you to have to wait too long.”

He bends down to pick up the bag before I have a chance to stop him and pauses, clearing his throat, when he registers what it is. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” I say, quickly taking it and shoving it in my purse.

“It’s good you’re being safe.” I know my face is beet red right now.

“It’s to regulate my periods.” Why did I say that? Please stop talking, Aspen.

He nods. “That’s good too.”

“Yep.” There’s an awkward pause while we both attempt to figure out how to change the subject. “Did you get what you needed here?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Gotta hit up the grocery store next.”

“Let’s go then,” I say, gesturing to the door. He follows me out and down the sidewalk to the store.

We each pick up a basket and split up to get what we need. I grab some ramen, macaroni and cheese, and bread for sandwiches. All easy stuff. Ever since I left Zach, I haven’t really wanted to cook anything. Not that I did much cooking while we were together, but I definitely did more than I am now. I just can’t be bothered.

“Aspen.”

“Hmm?” I turn to see Brooks scowling as he looks in my basket.

“I know I pay you enough to eat decent food.”

“You do.”

“So why are you buying all that crap?”

I shrug. “I don’t really like cooking. I’d rather just have quick options to grab.”

“No, you’re not eating this.” He starts putting my stuff back on the shelves.

“Hey!”

“When you’re hungry, you come to my house, and I’ll feed you,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I can’t ask you to cook for me every night.”

“You’re not asking. I’m telling you. I will be cooking for you as long as you live in my cabin.”

“Brooks—”

“Don’t fight me on this, Aspen. You know I have plenty of food. My mama never taught me to cook for just one anyway.”