Page 132 of Under the Influence

“Damn,” I sigh. “You really do have a soft spot for her.”

“She’s the girl that is going to break me, I just know it.”

“You’re already broken, bro. Maybe she’s gonna fix you.”

Although I wish it was me.

He groans, “I gotta start doing something right. I’m stuck in reverse with her right now.”

“Just follow your heart.”

Even if it breaks mine.

Blowing out a shaky breath, he whispers, “That’s easy when it beats for her. I guess it always has.”

With that, the guilt eats me alive. Again.

I’ve kissed her now, twice.

Pretended to be him.

Let her confide in me with her past.

I’m not going to let a girl come between our friendship, though. If I have to hide my feelings, I will.

“You work tonight too?” I ask, gladly changing the subject.

“No, I’m gonna go visit my mom. They’re finally allowing visitors.”

I wince, “You need backup?”

“Nah, you go get ready for your party. I’ll catch you later.”

We walk out of the building, the sun already starting to set. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks, bro.”

He slips into his Jeep and speeds away, and I can’t help but worry about him. Honestly, I thought Kendra being away might help pull Nash from this funk he’s been in, not having to hunt her down and drag her home every night. But now? I’m not so sure. It’s almost like he doesn’t know how to have parents at home. There are some things we just don’t talk about, though. It’s better that way.

It’s later than usual when I pull into the driveway at home. Surprisingly, Mom’s car is still here. I thought they’d be in New York by now. They go at least one weekend a month and sometimes I tag along, but not during the school year... Hence the party this weekend.

Before I realize what I’m doing, autopilot takes over and I’m standing in my kitchen, staring at my mom. “I thought you had an early flight?”

“I decided to catch the redeye tonight so we could talk. I feel like we haven’t gotten much time together.”

“Yeah,” I huff. “Coach has been pushing us pretty hard.”

She stays silent, stirring her iced coffee with a straw.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, pulling the stool out next to hers.

“You tell me, son.”

Ugh, I hate it when she does this. She already knows something, or at least thinks she does.

“I’m fine.”

“Avery is back in town,” Mom acknowledges.