More Than Maybe - Erin Hahn Page 0,88
Please stop calling.
* * *
I shut off my phone with a sob and throw it at the wall, watching the screen splinter as it skitters on the hardwood floor. Fuck. I’m going to regret that.
I listened to every single song he sent me. Twice. And the ones I sent him. Twice. I don’t have time for this bullshit. I need to be making plans, and yet.
And yet. I’m not stupid. I know what I feel for Luke transcends petty arguments. And I know he never meant for this to happen. I’m not angry so much as hurt. And my hurt isn’t all his fault, but everyone’s. Life in general’s fault. Nothing is fair. I can plan and fix and plot and schedule and dream all the fuck I want, and it will still come unraveled no matter what I do.
And I’m not completely self-centered. I realize this goes beyond Liberty Live and me. This is everything Phil has ever had. And is Phil pissed at Luke?
Nope. When I came home late last night, tearfully sharing that everything had fallen apart, he pulled me to his chest and told me to go to bed. “I’ll head in early tomorrow. See what I can come up with. It might not all be lost,” he said.
But it is. Still, if Phil isn’t giving up, I can’t either. After scrubbing my face clean of yesterday’s tears, I scrape my hair into a messy knot and throw on my Loud Lizard uniform of skinny jeans and T-shirt. Jogging down the stairs, I nearly tumble straight into my mom in her bathrobe. She passes me a cup of coffee and smiles gently.
“I know you don’t drink it, but you might need the boost. It’s mostly coconut creamer. You can take my car today. I have an overgrown garden calling my name.”
I sigh. “It’s not going to work. I can’t fix this.”
She shrugs and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “It’s not your job to fix everything, Vada.”
“But it’s my future,” I say, feeling my eyes well.
“And it’s as bright as ever, my girl. If anyone can pull something out at the last minute, it’s Phil. He’s been at it for hours already. But life’s unpredictable. Part of the ride is learning to roll with whatever comes our way. So, that’s what you’re going to do. Roll with it. Change what needs to change and make the best of what you’re handed. Think I planned to finish out my doctorate with a baby?”
“No.”
“Think I planned to fall in love with my best friend?”
I smile. “No.”
“Nope. The two best things to ever happen to me were completely unplanned.”
I let that sink in. “You make a lot of sense, Mom.”
“Good.”
“I don’t see how that will help anything today, but—”
“It might not. But it’s just one day.” She hands me a mason jar with something green inside. “Bring this with you. Phil forgot his smoothie this morning. He’s probably starving. Poor guy,” she murmurs fondly.
Fondly.
I bite my lip at the pang of regret behind my eyes. Luke.
“By the way, I broke my phone,” I say. “Um. Threw it against the wall. So, that’s on me, obviously. I’ll have to get a new one, but in the meantime, if you or, um, anyone else needs to get ahold of me—”
“You’re at work.”
“I’m at work,” I agree with a sigh. For better or worse, I’m going to work. But first, I have a bearded bluegrass bartender to plead with and a future to readjust.
31
LUKE
I try all night to call her. I text her a thousand times. I wasn’t sure if she read my messages until she sent songs back.
I should have taken them as a fuck-you, but I know Vada. I know her now. So, I took it as, “I’m angry but still care enough to send you agonizing yet handpicked heartbreak songs, so.”
I mean. She sent me Duritz. Duritz.
I confronted my dad about it all last night, and he seemed genuinely shocked and upset. That’s all the confirmation I needed. This is my fault. I did this.
And I need to fix it.
Cullen feels terrible, moping all over the damn place, which makes everything worse. He’s reaching way back to take credit for everything, and I’m inclined to let him, even though I’d let the band name slip. Not that I want to be absolved, but if it makes him shut up about it …
I’ve tried everything. I went to my dad’s partners, but they are intent on making me suffer for