Meant To Be (The Callahans #4) - Monica Murphy Page 0,4

each other’s names.

Well.

We did.

The red heart is gone. Eli’s name isn’t even on my friends list. Meaning, he either unadded me or blocked me.

WTF?

I search for his name, but it doesn’t come up. He blocked me.

Seriously. What an asshole.

Now the tears flow, steady and strong. I just let them out, burying my face in my pillow and sobbing into it. I cry like this for a while, my arms wrapped tightly around the pillow. Like I want to strangle it.

Kind of like how I want to strangle Eli.

He must be really mad at me to block me. Of course, not so long ago I blocked him. Only because I was so sick of his obnoxious stories about my brother, about his team, his school and ours. He used to brag all the time.

He still does. But somehow, it went from obnoxious to endearing.

There’s a knock on my door, and before I can even say come in, my mother walks into the room, her blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail, wearing my high school colors, which are the same colors as Beck’s youth league football team.

“We’re leaving in half an hour,” she announces when she stops at the foot of my bed.

I barely lift my face away from the pillow to peek at her. “Where are we going?”

“Beck’s game.”

I sink my face into the pillow. “I don’t wanna go.”

“Too bad. You have to. Your dad doesn’t want to leave you alone in the house.” She smacks my leg lightly. “Get up, girly, and get ready.”

“Are you saying Dad doesn’t trust me to be alone in the house?” I sit up and push my hair out of my face, dread making my stomach roil.

“More like, he doesn’t trust Eli Bennett.” She raises her brows.

I snort. “Don’t worry. He’s not going to come over. He’s through with me. Blocked me on Snap and everything.” My lower lip trembles and I press down hard on it. I don’t want to cry anymore. Especially not right now, in front of Mom.

“Maybe that’s a good thing?” she asks, making a little face.

I laugh bitterly. “You sound like Dad.”

“We do hang out together a lot, so that’s not a surprise.” She tilts her head, giving me a look. A look that says, get up and get ready. “Now come on, get dressed and come downstairs so you can have something to eat before we leave.”

“I’m not hungry,” I say with a groan. The thought of food grosses me out. I’d probably throw up if I ate anything. I feel sick over the breakup.

I still can’t believe we actually broke up.

“Then at least get out of bed and get some clothes on. Your father is already tense over everything that happened last night,” Mom says. “You don’t want to make him angrier.”

“Is he really angry with me?” Dread fills me. There is nothing worse than making my parents mad. They give us the “we’re so disappointed in you” speech and that is the absolute worst. I hate all of this.

“I don’t know if angry is the right word, but he’s definitely not happy with you or your brother,” Mom says.

“Does Jake have to go today?” God, I really hope not.

Mom shakes her head. “He had to go clean the bleachers at the high school. He’s already there.”

The bleachers at our stadium are the worst. The janitors do their best to keep up, but it’s an impossible job. There is so much garbage beneath those bleachers, it would take hours. Days. Months, even, to clean them all. Sometimes, the coaches make the football players who got in trouble clean them. It’s a really sucky job.

“I’m sure Jake will blame me for that,” I say, throwing back my duvet cover and sheets and climbing out of bed.

“If he does, tell him he needs to take a good, long look at himself in the mirror. He was terrible last night,” Mom says, sounding irritable. “You weren’t much better, hitting your brother like you did.”

“He made me mad.” At least my dad understood why I did it. Doesn’t make it right, though.

“That’s not a good enough reason. If that was the case, Jake would haul off and hit you all of the time,” Mom says, making complete sense.

I straighten my bed as best I can before I go to my closet to pick out clothes to wear. “Daddy says I have to apologize to him.”

“As well you should.”

“Jake should apologize to me, too.”

“What? For watching out for his sister, who happens