Her Wild Coast Hero: A Small Town Age Gap Military Romance (Wild Hearts Book 5) by Dakota Davies

Author:Dakota Davies [Davies, Dakota]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Savage Creek Press
Published: 2022-11-30T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

DARCY

“You aren’t staying home again,” Tiffany says from my doorway, practically stomping her foot, but I can tell she doesn’t really want me to join her and Willow tonight. Since the Halloween party, I haven’t gone out with them, and she’s getting tired of asking.

“I gotta write this paper,” I say, turning back to my laptop.

“It’s not due till after Thanksgiving,” she says.

“I know,” I say, flipping through my notes to find a reference.

Eventually, I hear her sigh and shuffle back to her room. A while later, the front door closes and I’m once again alone.

Though Tiffany and Willow are both going home for Thanksgiving, I’m staying here. After my unexpected trip home in September to take care of my dad, we can’t afford another plane ticket. I’ll go back for the Christmas break, which is only another few weeks away.

Our dining hall is serving a full Thanksgiving dinner, but I’ll just stay in. I’m actually relieved that I get to be alone for a while. It’ll be good for me. I can use the extra time to study.

That night, my phone rings. It’s Brian, but I can’t answer it. What would I even say?

On Thanksgiving Day, I’m in the middle of reviewing the Kreb’s Cycle with my music on, so don’t hear my phone ringing until the last minute. It’s my dad. I know he’s calling to wish me a Happy Thanksgiving, but I can’t hear his voice right now. Every time we talk, I get tongue-tied. I can’t tell him about what happened with Ellis.

I keep replaying what happened. I feel like I did something wrong, but I don’t understand what.

The weird thing is that guy Cory who texted me out of the blue is in fact in my biology lab. He keeps flirting with me, but my heart’s not in it. Did Ellis give him my number? Every time this thought arises, I focus harder on my studies.

My dad calls back awhile later, and I’m in the middle of eating a pizza I heated in our oven while reading Fire on the Mountain for my post-colonial English course for the third time.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he says in a jovial voice.

“Same to you,” I say, swallowing my pizza with a sip of beer someone brought over for a study party before finals. Normally I don’t drink beer, but tonight seemed like a good occasion for something celebratory.

“Did you have fun at Grace and Jim’s?” I ask him. Grace and Jim are our next-door neighbors and have been hosting my dad—and me, when I’m home—to holiday meals since I can remember.

“Stuffed good and proper,” my dad says. “Brian was there too. We tried to call, but you didn’t answer.”

“Sorry,” I say. Though talking to Brian right now would break me, and I can’t let that happen. I take a steadying breath, but it chatters through my windpipe.

We talk about school for a while. I tell him about my poetry class project and all the memorizing I’m doing for my biology final.

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