Falling Like Leaves (Bramble Falls, #1)(27)

“Of course, you’ll always be our favorite, though,” Kara adds.

I squeeze my stinging eyes closed.

“Right. Okay, well, thank you, Kara.”

“Any time. I’ll let him know you called,” she says.

I nod even though she can’t see me, and I hang up.

Dad didn’t waste any time replacing me. After telling me my internship would be waiting for me when I get back. He found time to hire someone else—someone with more availability because she’s in college, someone fantastic and driven—but he hasn’t found time to call me back. He hasn’t found time to even ask how I’m doing here.

Which, at the moment, isn’t great.

But I refuse to lie here and cry.

I crawl out of bed and head downstairs. Sloane and Asher are in the living room eating Pop-Tarts with notes scattered in front of them.

I should be doing homework, too. But I need a distraction, and there’s no way I can focus on school right now.

“Hey,” Sloane says, her head tilted. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. You guys want to go get dinner?” I ask.

Asher taps his phone, and the screen lights up. “At three fifty p.m.?”

I bite my lip. “An early dinner.”

“I can only eat dinner today if someone is spoon-feeding me while I highlight,” Sloane says, gesturing at her notes. “I copied these from Asher. I haven’t actually paid attention in class since school started, and we have our first quiz Monday.”

“But it’s Friday,” I say.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” she says with a laugh. “We won’t have enough time to study this weekend with the fall events on both days, so we’re cramming now instead.”

“Sorry,” Asher says. “Mr. Winston is notoriously hard. I don’t want to start off in a hole I have to dig myself out of.”

“It’s okay.” I head over to the door and slip on my black leather boots.

“You’re going alone?” Sloane asks, her eyebrows skyrocketing up her forehead.

I shrug. “Yeah.” I get how shocking it must be for Sloane, a girl with a plethora of friends, but I’m used to being alone. I don’t mind it.

Usually, anyway.

“You don’t have to do that,” she says, clearly rattled by the idea. “I can order takeout. You can hang out with us and do homework.”

I offer her a smile, hoping she doesn’t feel bad, and open the front door. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. Good luck studying.”

As soon as I’m outside, I unlock my phone and begin scrolling through my contacts, suddenly wishing I had more friends in Bramble Falls. I scroll until I reach SUMMER COOPER. Even his name in my phone is a reminder of what I threw away.

I sigh. I can’t text him, especially now that I know he has pent-up resentment toward me, despite him saying we’re good. Plus, the last time I asked him to get food with me, he shot me down.

A girl can only take so much rejection.

I scroll back up to Jake’s contact. He might not cause the same heat in my stomach that a glance from Cooper does, but he’s been a great friend since I moved here.

Me: I’m hungry.

Pen Thief Jake: lol try eating?

Me: Eat with me.

Pen Thief Jake: yeah? name the time and place Me: How’s five minutes? The diner?

Pen Thief Jake: oh shit ok might be closer to 15 but ill be there





Chapter Eleven




“Why are you so gross?” I ask, popping a waffle fry into my mouth. Jake and I are sitting in a corner booth at the diner, having arrived just before the dinner rush, both of us with smash burgers on our plates. Jake’s is half gone even though it only arrived ten seconds ago.

The jukebox is playing some country song as the booths along the walls begin to fill. The shiny black-and-white checkered floor glints from the low-hanging lights above. The walls are covered in photos of celebrities who have eaten here over the years.

“Just got done with football practice,” Jake says after swallowing. His hair is wet with sweat, and his cheeks are flushed. “Was about to shower when you texted.” I dip a fry into my ketchup, nodding. “It was a good surprise, though.”

“Wish I could say the same about your smell,” I say.

Jake laughs. “Sorry. Someone gave me an unrealistic amount of time to get here.” He picks up a fry. “So, why did you text me?”

“What do you mean? Am I not allowed to eat with friends?”

“Are we friends?” he asks. His expression says he’s serious.

I stop with a fry halfway to my mouth, a blush painting my cheeks. “Oh. Are we not?”

“I don’t know. You blew off my party. And you never text me back.”

“It was just a party,” I say with a shrug. “And you’ve only texted me, like, once.”

“Three times, and you haven’t responded to any of them,” he says. “I was convinced you gave me a fake number.”

“Probably should have,” I joke, trying to push away the prickle of shame that crawls up my neck at the realization that I really have been an asshole. But Jake doesn’t laugh. “Okay, I’m sorry about the party. And about not texting you back. I’ve just been busy. Usually, I’ll see a text and plan on responding once I’m done doing whatever, but then I forget about it entirely. Still, it was messed up to ignore you but then text you when I wanted something. I’ll try to do better.”