Young Love Dies Hard: The Young Brothers, Book 1 by Nikki Lane (best memoirs of all time txt) 📕

my lap and settled into a purring bundle as I stroked her back.

I jumped when my cellphone rang. I swiped it off the table to check the caller ID before answering.

“Hi, Aunt Meg.” I hoped I didn’t sound as disappointed as I felt.

“Hi, sweetie. How are things?”

I looked around the quiet room. “Fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“Have you heard from him?”

I knew the question was coming. She’d asked every time she called, which was becoming more and more frequently. But it still stung, even now. “It’s been two months. What makes you think I’ve heard from him?”

“He was here the other day, helping Uncle Jim with one of the calves. I thought maybe he might have called.”

I sat straight up. Mischa jumped from my lap onto the couch. “What? Is he staying with you?”

“No, dear. He was just here for a few hours.”

“Well, did he say where he was staying?”

“No, I’m sorry. I tried but…he didn’t want to talk much.”

I slumped back. “That’s okay.”

“Are you studying for finals?”

My books were sprawled on the carpet, some opened, others closed. I hadn’t looked at them in a week. “Yep.”

“That’s good, dear. Your uncle and I are so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Aunt Meg. How’s Kasey?”

It’d been a few days since our last text conversation.

“She’s fine. New medicine seems to have finally settled down her asthma. It’s been almost three weeks with no attack.”

“That’s good,” I said.

“She hasn’t stopped talking about what you promised her.”

Kasey had been obsessed with going to the beach ever since Jacob’s successful attempt to calm her down.

I switched the phone to the other ear. “Only if she does well in school. No exceptions.”

“I keep reminding her,” Aunt Meg said.

She promised to call again if Jacob came back to the farm. But I knew she’d call again in a few days, even if he hadn’t. My father had been released from jail, and Aunt Meg was terrified he would try to find me. What made an already crappy situation worse was that Jacob wasn’t here to ease her worrying.

After I ended the call, I surveyed the books I’d been ignoring. It was almost impossible to study here, especially in Jacob’s spot. I had tried to go over my notes and study guides, but my mind would drift within minutes of reading, and the information was never absorbed, no matter how many times I reread it.

An impulsive urge hit me. I shot up from the couch, scooped the books off the floor, and shoved them into my bag. I had a few hours to kill before work, and the walls of my apartment felt like they were closing in on me. I needed to go somewhere to concentrate, somewhere I wouldn’t be distracted. A place where other people would be busy doing the same thing.

I hustled over to the library, negotiating the huge puddles from the lingering rain over the last few days. With finals approaching, I guess everyone had the same idea as me because finding an empty table was proving difficult. I gave up on the first floor and climbed the stairs to the second. I passed a few tables overcrowded with study groups before coming upon an unoccupied table up against the wall. I trotted toward it and didn’t waste time sprawling out my books. Maybe if I made it look like there were more people sitting here I could keep the table all for myself.

I grabbed my notes and study guides, let out a deep breath, and forced myself to focus on the words. Every other sentence, my eyes would sweep upwards and scan the area. Why was I still having trouble concentrating? The room was mostly quiet except for the murmuring from the group sitting across from me. Did I think the library would magically make it easier for me to study? I glanced behind my shoulder and saw the reference section. The memory of making out with Jacob against the old books flashed through my mind.

I slunk back in my seat. Okay…so maybe I had other motives for being there. Two months without hearing from Jacob, and I was just about losing my mind. I whipped out my cellphone and started to text him. But just like every other time I had tried, I deleted all the words and tucked the phone back into my bag. What was there to say? I had pushed him out of my life, and he was probably better off for it.

I straightened my posture and looked down at my notes.

Focus, Maeve.

I’d gotten through the first page, feeling confident that I remembered more than I’d thought, when the low chatter from the next table got a little louder. I peered over at the group mostly made of guys and two girls. I recognized one as the girl who had been with Rich on New Year’s Eve. Her mouth was moving, and I wished I could read lips. A few heads snuck looks my way. I buried my head in my book, trying to pretend I didn’t notice them.

Maybe I should have gotten up and left, but I didn’t. I settled even firmer in the seat, almost as if someone were going to try and pull me out of it. I took a deep breath in through my nose and then out. If I just paid them no mind, then everything would be all right. I was here to study, just like them. Why would my presence here be any concern of theirs?

I heard the scoot of a chair against the weathered hardwood floors.

Don’t look up. Don’t look up. Don’t look up.

The approaching footsteps were in sync with my pounding heartbeat.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice said.

I kept my eyes on the book I’d been pretending to read, my fingers creasing the corner of the page over and over.

I looked up but didn’t say anything, trying to push out all the confidence I had and hoping I looked more stoic than I felt.

“You’re Maeve, right?” He leaned his hands on the chair