Love, Utley (Love Letters #1)

The one who makes me dinner and fulfills old promises.

The man who takes up just as much space in my heart as he does in real life.

I love him.

And I don’t really know what to do about that.

“Show us what you got,” Mom calls from the kitchen.

My breath hitches. Mom is one of the two reasons why I don’t know what to do.

“Yeah, come on. I wanna show you this cookie,” Chelsea, the other reason, shouts even though we’re only ten feet away.

I wipe at my eyes.

Maddox told me he wouldn’t ask me to choose between him and them, but ultimately, won’t it come down to that? Or does he plan to wait six years until Chelsea goes to college before we take our relationship to the next level? And even then, I can’t just leave my mom behind. We’ve been living together for my thirty-five years of existence.

She’s recovered, been better for a long time, and could physically live on her own. But could I really leave her at the same time Chelsea leaves?

Would I want to?

I blink up at the ceiling.

Am I seriously crying over the idea that I might not live with my mom for the rest of my mortal life?

What is wrong with me?

Shaking my head, I sniff a few times and dab at my eyes with the edge of my hoodie sleeve. Then I step back into the kitchen.

“Ooh, that’s cute.” Mom smiles at the blue and black logo on my hoodie. “It’s like the one you lost.”

Yep, lost it at that park I never went to.

Chelsea scrunches up her face. “That’s… nice.”

“It is.” I run my palms down the fabric. “I got a jersey too, if that’s more impressive.”

She nods.

“Speaking of, should you two really be wearing those while baking?” I can’t help but ask. “I don’t exactly know how to wash that material.”

Mom waves off my concern with a bag of icing. “Maddox told us not to baby them.”

It takes a second for that sentence to sink in.

“Maddox… told you,” I repeat slowly.

“Mm-hmm.” Mom leans back over the counter to keep decorating a cookie. “And we figured you could bring them to dinner as the dessert.”

It feels like I just sat down halfway through a movie I’ve never heard of.

“Look at this one.” Chelsea pushes a cookie toward me.

“What dinner?” I ask Mom, confused, as I move closer to the counter.

“The one tomorrow. Maddox will call you.” Her answer doesn’t make any more sense than her previous statements.

I stare at Mom, but she isn’t paying attention to me.