The Hearts We Break: A Sweet YA Romance (Young Love Book 4)

by Kylie Key

  He released my hand, and the charger tumbled to the floor. Instinctively we both squatted to pick it up, our foreheads almost clashing. A second passed, and another, eyes locked, hearts racing, breaths uneven. I wasn’t sure what was happening between us.

  It felt like something.

  It felt like everything.

  It needed to be nothing.

  “Thanks for watching Ryan,” Cole murmured, placing the charger in my palm, and squeezing my fingers securely around it.

  By the time I’d risen, he was gone.

  “Was that Cole? What did he want?” George growled as he came bustling in from the pool area, carrying his water testing kit. He struggled to remove a pair of vinyl gloves from his hands. “What was he doing here?”

  “He brought my charger back,” I said, “I left it there last night.”

  George relaxed for a second. “Well, good for him.” Then he reverted back to Grumpy George. “He’s not having another party tonight, is he?”

  I shrugged, my own reply equally grouchy, "How would I know?" Not wanting to get into a conversation about Cole Parsons and his social life, or Cole Parsons full stop, I climbed the stairs two at a time, stopping at Hayley's bedroom door. Her room overlooked the pool area, and had a glimpse into the neighbor’s yard.

  “Hi, what are ya doing?” I asked breathlessly, as I dashed to her window, peering out to catch a glimpse of Cole standing by his car, talking on his phone. My heart fluttered at the sight of him. Why did he have such an effect on me? He opened his car door and in the next instant roared off down the driveway. Surely his car was beeping and telling him to put on his seat belt.

  “So, what are you doing?” I asked Hayley, not sure if she had answered me.

  “Playing,” she said, obviously annoyed that she was repeating herself.

  Her room was a mess, in that her toys were laid all over the floor. She'd arranged books and boxes and blankets to make a play area and was making the llamas walk over them. She amused me as she conducted a conversation with herself.

  "Come on, Little Llama, do you need help going through the forest," she said in a deep voice, and changing to a squeak, "No, Daddy, I can do it by myself."

  "Hey," I interrupted. “How was your tee-ball game?”

  She gave me a scowl and reverted to her Daddy Llama voice, "Let's get something to eat. We're going to the forest to find food."

  "Did your team win?"

  Hayley shook her head.

  "Is Ocean coming over to play today?" Ocean was her little tee-ball friend who lived around the corner. They often had play dates on the weekend.

  Hayley's lower lip pouted and she shook her head again. "Daddy, wait for me," she said in her baby llama voice, moving the toys across to her bed.

  I hated that she'd had another dreadful tee-ball game, so I attempted to cheer her up. “Hey, I could play with you later,” I said, “but I have to study first.” She gave me no response. “Okay?”

  Hayley shrugged, going off into her pretend world. “Do you want a mango, Little Llama?” Her voice had gone even deeper.

  I made a note to ask Mom if she’d had a falling out with her friend—little girls could be so fickle and catty at that age. I was lucky with my group of friends, Ella and I had been friends since fourth grade and we’d met the others in middle school. I was also curious enough to google what llamas ate—finding out they were herbivores, but that those in farms and zoos could be given fruit as a treat.

  Learning a useless bit of trivia made me smile. And I realized I’d learnt something else today. That Cole wasn’t the total bad boy he projected to be. Maybe he had an image to protect. But today he’d shown me a hint that he was slightly human.

  CHAPTER 5

  After a forced attendance at church (Mom went weekly and made us kids go once a month), I was ready to hit the books. I spread my English notes out all over my bed, determined to battle through the meaning of Shakespeare's Hamlet.

  But Ainsley rang and wanted to go shopping at the mall. It was difficult to turn her down, especially as she promised to pick me up and buy ice cream. She said a break from study would refresh me. Indeed, I had trouble turning any of my friends down—at any time. I seemed to be everybody's default bestie, never having the overloaded schedule of music lessons and gymnastics that Ella and Dominique had. And lately Trieste had been busy helping out more and more with her mother's house staging business.

  I did a quick change out of my denim shorts and crop top into a cute skirt and top ensemble. Ainsley always dressed as if she might be spotted by a random model scout, so I had to make sure I looked good too. I carefully applied makeup and ran the curling iron through my hair.

  Ainsley wanted to get a jump start on her Christmas shopping, and now that I was fifty dollars richer from babysitting, I could dive in too. My friends and I had a limit on our Christmas gift buying for each other—no one was allowed to spend more than ten dollars, because let’s face it, none of us lacked for anything. It made finding the perfect little gift a challenge, one that I relished. I had already seen a cute notepad with musical notes on it that I wanted to give to Ella. She’d be able to jot down her song lyrics.

  Within an hour Ainsley had armfuls of bags and I was pleased with my purchases. Hayley, Ella and Dominique were all accounted for. I’d chosen a cute little coin purse with a cat on it for Domi, it looked exactly like her cat, Milo. And because I didn’t want Malachi to miss out, I bought him a pair of sports socks. With a goal to walk a marathon, I guessed he could never have too many socks.

  “Did you hear from Michael again?” Ainsley asked, as she flicked through a rack of mens t-shirts.

  “Michael?” I said. His name hadn’t graced my thoughts for days and I’d developed a habit of not looking behind me in psychology class.

  “Yeah,” she said, holding up a gray t-shirt. “Do you think Logan would wear this?”

  I checked the label and the price tag. The $10 limit obviously didn’t apply to boyfriends. “Yeah, that’s cool,” I said. “No, I haven’t,” I said.

  “That’s a shame. I think he really liked you.”

  "I have a lot of study."

  Ainsley smiled. “Studying isn’t everything Sleeeeena.” She had a way of always elongating my name. “Oooh,” she checked her phone. “Logan sent me a photo. He’s gone mountain biking with Taylor and Garrett.”

  “You didn’t want to go?”

  Ainsley rolled her eyes. “No thanks. They’ll all be so competitive. I bet one of them will come back with a broken arm or leg. Or broken bike at least.” She showed me the photo of Logan on his bike on a mountain trail.

  “That looks steep,” I said.

  “Yeah, they’re crazy.” Then she shuddered, her face tensing. “I hope he’s careful. I hope he doesn’t do something stupid.”

  “I'm sure he'll be fine,” I reassured her. “He wouldn't do anything too crazy.” Logan was an excellent athlete, he was on the swim team, played water polo and was a good golfer, too. He was also smart, involved in student council and was aiming for a top college.

  Ainsley crossed her fingers on both hands and held them up high. “He better not!”

  I laughed. “Y’know, you and Logan are so cute together. It’s like you’re made for each other."

  "Yeah," she agreed, with a self-satisfied smile. "He still makes my heart go pitter patter, and I get this feeling in the pit of my stomach when I see him. You know how it is.” She held her hand over her heart, her eyes gleaming as she swooned and went trance-like.

  I stared at her, my body going rigid. Yes, I knew those feelings—a ridiculous racing heartbeat, an inexplicable nervousness. “And...what else?” I tried to make a joke, “Electricity?”

  "Yes!" Ainsley squealed and raised her eyebrows cheekily, “Yes, a tingle. He makes me tingle all over.”

  “Sounds like you have it bad, Ains,” I said, my heart palpitating wildly.

  “I know I do,” Ainsley said, “I have it real bad for Logan Ne
wman. I think he might be the love of my life.”

  My eyes widened at Ainsley declaring the L word. “Really?”

  Ainsley nodded, her smile real, genuine, like she was enclosed in her own wondrous bubble. “Yep, those are all the symptoms for being in love.”

  I stopped breathing.

  Symptoms:

  Irregular heartbeat, sometimes manic. Check.

  Raised body temperature, flushed cheeks. Check.

  Temporary inability to speak normal sentences. Check.

  Electrical current, like being in a magnetic force field. Check.

  Oh, Ainsley had to be wrong...so very, very wrong.

  Because one person made me feel all those things.

  And I absolutely

  definitely

  wasn’t

  in love with him.

  No way.

  I could not be in love with

  Cole Parsons.

  “LOOKS LIKE YOU SHOPPED up a storm,” Mom said, as I arrived home with my shopping bags.

  “Sure did. Ainsley too,” I said. I gave her a brief rundown on what I’d bought and Ainsley’s latest news. Mom liked hearing about my friends and what they were up to. She was looking forward to Trieste's surprise 18th birthday dinner the following week. Trieste had vehemently insisted she didn't want a party—not with exams and her Mom's upcoming trip to the Ukraine to visit her family. She said she'd party doubly hard at graduation. However, Trieste's Mom had organized a secret birthday dinner for all of us and our Moms. It was becoming increasingly difficult to pretend we weren't going to celebrate her special day.

  I went to my room to wrap the presents, an absolute necessity where Hayley was involved. My little sister could hardly contain her excitement for Christmas, and snooping, poking and prodding would be expected from her. I wrapped her sequinned llama pillow in bubble wrap and then a cardboard box. I was sure she would love it.

  I rearranged my closet so that Hayley's present was concealed under a ski jacket, and laid out my English notes. Hamlet's mother, Gertrude had married her dead husband's brother only two months after his death, greatly upsetting her son, Prince Hamlet. It had ended in madness, murder and death all round, proving that not all romances ended well. There had been no happy ever after. For anyone.

  I filled a page with more notes and quotes. It was always good to memorize a few passages.

  Hayley came back from my aunt's house and seeing the remnants of Christmas paper, bows and sticky tape immediately wanted to know what I'd bought.

  "Did you buy me something?" She giggled and jumped up on my bed, scattering Shakespeare to the floor.

  "No! Nothing for you!" I grabbed her and held her down in a tickle.

  "Bet you did," she squealed. It was good to see she was back to her happy, chirpy self.

  "Nah. Only for Ella and Domi and Malachi. Nothing for you," I teased.

  Hayley sat up. "What did you buy Malachi?"

  Dominique had brought Malachi around to our house, and the impact it had on Hayley had been lasting. She had been fascinated by his scarred hand and leg and the spider web tattoo on his face, the result of a harsh and unimaginable upbringing.

  With the innocence of a kid, she'd asked a bunch of questions: Why do you walk funny? Why is your skin like that? Can you move your fingers? Is that a real tattoo?

  I had cringed, but Dominique was very gentle with her. She explained what had happened—how Malachi had been burnt in a car accident and had spent eight months in the hospital, and how her big brother, Cassian had been one of the doctors who had put new skin over the burnt parts. Hayley had listened in fascination, eyes wide when Domi pulled off Malachi's shoe so she could see his foot.

  "Are you his nurse?" Hayley asked Domi.

  Domi smiled and shook her head, but Malachi had said, "She should be. She'd be the best nurse there ever was."

  "So what did you get him?" Hayley asked.

  "Some socks," I said, "for when we walk the marathon." Malachi’s goal to walk a marathon had turned into a fundraiser for a burns charity. I had impulsively agreed to join Malachi and Dominique, but walking a marathon scared me, in the sense that I wasn't sure I could do it. Twenty six miles seemed like an awful long way, even for someone not opposed to walking.

  "That's cool," Hayley said, "I want to get Malachi something too."

  "You do? Why's that?"

  "Because he liked my llamas," she said.

  I smiled at the simplicity of being seven years old and liking someone because they liked your llamas. I wondered if Cole Parsons liked llamas. Somehow, I doubted it.

  Abandoning Shakespeare, I picked up my phone and scrolled through social media while Hayley played games with her toys around the bed.

  Mom came bustling in carrying my folded laundry. “So this is where my two girls are hiding,” she said, dropping the basket in the corner.

  “The llamas are going to a party,” Hayley said, as she trotted them across my pillows.

  “Well, make sure you bring them to the party downstairs.” Mom bopped her on the head. “The neighbors are coming for dinner.”

  I sat up in a flash, disturbing the llamas trekking up the side of my bed, making Hayley cry out.

  “Ooops, sorry,” I said, trying to pick them up. “Neighbors? What neighbors?”

  “Millie. I thought it was time I welcomed her properly. And the Wilsons are coming, too.”

  The Wilsons were an older couple who lived across the street. All their kids had left home and they were good friends with Mom and Dad. But Millie—would that mean Cole was coming?

  “You two can come down and help me set the table. Dad is doing his Texan ribs.”

  “Yum,” Hayley said.

  “What time are they coming?” I asked, a mild panic on what I should wear.

  “Six,” Mom said, “I said the boys can have a swim first. I don’t want Charlie and Ryan gaming all evening.”

  I felt my heart beat return to normal. Mom hadn’t mentioned Cole, probably a neighbor’s barbecue would be beneath him. I couldn’t imagine he’d come anywhere near our place, especially when Dad started blasting his favorite country tunes. Or saw the Wilsons bringing their stack of boardgames. All the same, I put on my cutest shorts and tee.

  To no avail.

  He didn’t show up.

  Millie and Ryan arrived with a bottle of wine and a platter of fruit and chocolate.

  “Cole’s not coming?” Mom asked.

  “Oh no." Millie seemed embarrassed. “He had other plans.”

  I let out a sigh, not sure if it was from frustration or disappointment. All that time I’d spent curling my hair and doing my makeup to prove I wasn’t a total loser, would be wasted. Yet, I couldn’t understand why I’d been so eager to impress someone I didn’t like. It made no sense at all.

  I made no sense at all.

  I needed to remind myself just how much of a jerk Cole Parsons was. I mentally started a list, having no trouble finding reasons.

  Rude

  Bad mannered

  Arrogant

  Disrespectful

  Plays loud music

  Has loud parties

  Dangerous driver

  Unkind

  Surly (never smiles)

  Mean

  A bully

  Crushes fingers when shaking hands

  Thoughtless

  Has a girlfriend

  Changing into my bathing suit, I joined the kids. We were lucky our heated pool let us swim all year round, though it wasn't long before it felt too hot. Mom called us to eat and we dried ourselves and sat with our towels wrapped around us, devouring George's ribs, corn cobs and Mom's potato salad. George's ribs were the best. He marinated them with a top secret recipe and always joked that he'd only reveal it on his deathbed.

  An unnecessary rev of an engine, a squeal of tires and the sound of a booming bass pierced the air, signaling the arrival of Cole. It made Millie gasp and look shamefully across at my parents. Quite possibly she'd neve
r heard how loud he was.

  "Oh my," she said, rising from her seat, "that's inexcusable. Let me..."

  "Leave him," George interrupted, just as the noise stopped. "No harm done." That surprised me. George was always the first to complain and threaten to call noise control. But with a wicked grin he increased the volume on the speaker, country music blaring out in surround sound.

  "Yes, finish your meal," Mom said. "Maybe he'll want to have something to eat? There's plenty here."

  "He was eating out," Millie said quickly, "I'm sure he's fine."

  The Wilsons started to reminisce about the Singhs and every other neighbor who'd lived in the street for the past five years. Millie looked even more uncomfortable, guzzling down another glass of wine, and after dessert she used Ryan as an excuse to leave, saying he still had homework to finish. Ryan tried to insist he'd done it all.

  After the Wilsons left, I helped Mom clean up, clearing the table and stacking the dishwasher.

  "Think you can run this over to Millie?" Mom held up an expensive looking fine china platter.

  "Now?" I asked, pretty sure Millie wouldn't be needing it tonight.

  “Yes, now," Mom said with a smile, "I don't want it getting broken." I let out a sigh. I hadn't changed out of my bathing suit and still had a towel around my waist. I needed a shower and my hair was in a disheveled top knot. "Just drop it in the kitchen, it'll only take you a second."

  I hurried across the yard, calculating there was zero chance of running into Cole, he'd likely be shut away in his room.

  I knocked and waited, frustrated that no one was answering. I walked around to the patio, which lead directly into the kitchen area. Though the door was only open a fraction, loud voices carried out to me, Cole and Millie involved in a heated argument.

  "It was so embarrassing," Millie shouted, her usually crisp, silky tone clipped with bitterness. "It's time you grew up and started acting your age."

  I gasped, riveted to the spot, flattening myself against the wall, knowing I should move, knowing I shouldn't be eavesdropping.

  "I. Don't. Care." Cole's words were short, deliberate, hostile. "I told you. I. Don't. Want. To. Be. Here."