Love, Utley (Love Letters #1)

The nurse says something else, and I think I mumble a thank-you before the call ends. But I can’t focus as a heavy weight settles on my chest.

It’s always just been Mom and me. And her flower shop, Petals. She owns it, manages it, runs it. She’s there every day.

She has other employees, but she does most of the work.

She can’t afford to pay someone else to work full time.

If she can’t work, then she can’t pay her bills.

And that means… I can’t stay here.

I have to go home. I have to see her, make sure she’s really okay, with my own eyes.

And I can’t come back.

My lungs ache as I pull in a breath.

I can’t come back here, taking out student loans, while Mom struggles. Possibly losing her business. Then our home.

That weight wraps around my rib cage.

I need to drop out.

I need to leave.

Today.

Now.

I slip my phone into my sweatshirt pocket and pause.

Maddox’s sweatshirt.

If I leave, move several hours away, how will I see Maddox again?

Heat builds behind my eyes.

I can’t cry over him. Can’t cry over a guy I’ve only known for a week. Only slept with once.

The pressure builds inside my skull, and I picture us walking side by side, his massive body shielding my shorter and softer one.

I can’t cry over a boy when my mom is in the hospital.

I can’t. And yet…

I glance at the notebook on top of my desk.

My finger trembles as I press the doorbell.

There’s a moment’s delay before I hear the chime through the closed front door.

I shuffle back a step.

And wait.

No other sounds come from inside the house.

I lean to the side, peeking through the big front window, but all I can see is an empty living room.