Most Likely (Most Likely #1) - Sarah Watson Page 0,64

hard it is when plants close, and production moves overseas, and life as you know it gets ripped out from under you. Scott didn’t understand the price of progress.

“You are, though,” Victoria said. “You are worthy. I don’t know who made you feel like you’re not. But they’re wrong.”

Tears leaked out of the corners of Martha’s eyes. Victoria reached out and took Martha’s hand. “Hey,” she said, giving it a squeeze. “You are.”

Martha nodded. She wasn’t thinking about Scott anymore. She was only thinking about Victoria and how good it felt to stand there with their hands together. “Victoria… I want to tell you something.”

Suddenly, the theater doors slammed open. Startled, they both dropped their hands and turned. Logan was walking up.

“God, Diffenderfer,” Martha said, quickly wiping her eyes. “Learn to open a door.”

Logan rushed over without apologizing. “Do you know where Ava is?” he asked.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Logan turned his phone around and showed her something that was on it.

“Oh my god,” Martha said.

“I know,” said Logan. “Is she home?”

Martha pulled out her own phone. “I’ll find her.”

Victoria looked back and forth between them. “Is everything okay?”

Martha nodded. “Yeah. It’s a long story. Ava’s been looking for her biological mom—”

“I know,” Victoria said.

Martha looked up with surprise. “You do?”

“Logan told me about it.”

Martha didn’t have time to think about it or fully absorb just how much Logan and Victoria had been talking lately. She looked up from her phone and turned to Logan. “Ava’s home. AirDrop me the file.”

He hesitated. “Shouldn’t I…?”

Martha leveled her eyes at him. “I know you have the best of intentions here. But I think it would be better if she heard this from me. And CJ and Jordan.”

To his credit, Logan didn’t argue. “Yeah, okay. You’re probably right.”

He selected the file, and Martha waited for the electronic beep that told her it had come through. “Thanks.” She turned to Victoria. “Can you cover the theater?”

“Sure. Of course.”

Martha grabbed her coat from the cupboard. She pulled it on as she walked. When she got to the door, she paused and looked back. Victoria gave her a small wave and a look that was impossible to read.

CJ had never just shown up unannounced at Wyatt’s house before. She regretted it the second she knocked on his door. She hoped nobody was home.

The door opened a second later.

“Clarke,” Wyatt said. “What are you doing here?”

“I have no idea. And you’re probably in the middle of something.”

“I am, actually.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

“Clarke, wait. It’s the kind of something you can join in on.”

He opened the door wider. She entered but kept her coat on. She didn’t know how long she’d be staying. The house was warm and quiet. He led her into the dining room, and she saw that the table was covered in a thousand puzzle pieces. She laughed. “A puzzle? That’s what you’re doing?”

“Clarke. I did not invite you into my home to be mocked. Now sit down and help me. When I’m done, it’ll be a kitten scaling a set of drapes. I believe it also contains an inspirational message, but I lost the box top.”

CJ sat and started to look for edge pieces. She thought that’s how everyone in the world did puzzles, but Wyatt had started with the center. It was positively barbaric.

“So…” Wyatt said, scanning the table for the piece he needed. “What brings you out on such a blustery night?”

CJ connected two edge pieces together. “I was heading home from a football game, but I realized I didn’t feel like going home. So I was just driving around and… ended up here. But if you want me to go…”

“Clarke. I don’t want you to go.”

CJ reached for a puzzle piece, but it was the same one that Wyatt wanted. Their hands overlapped. CJ felt the same zing she felt every time they touched. She pulled her hand back quickly. “Sorry,” she said.

“I forgive you.”

She liked him. She was sure of it now. She also knew why she pulled her hand back every time. It was the wheelchair. She wasn’t proud of it. It was just the truth. She knew that it shouldn’t matter. If she was a good person, it wouldn’t matter. She wasn’t a good person, though. Because she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about all the complications. All the places they couldn’t go together. The things they couldn’t do. She didn’t even know if he could have sex or not. She was still a virgin. She’d barely even made it