First-Time Caller (Heartstrings, #1)

by B.K. Borison

“I don’t want something perfect; I want something honest. Something that can be mine.”

“You tell me all the time you have all the love you need. That you’re fit to burst with our family and all the people in it. But I thought, maybe just this once, you could have the love you deserve too.”

“I think you tell yourself you don’t deserve the things you want so it’s easier for you to manage your expectations. It won’t hurt if you don’t care, right? How many lies have you told, Aiden?”

Better end it now before you get in too deep and risk hurting, right? You’re so used to distancing yourself from any sort of feeling that you don’t even realize you’re doing it anymore. You watch clips of movies because you don’t want to get invested in a stupid story. You skipped vacation with your parents because it’s easier to love them at a distance than up close. You settled for fun with me because it made you feel like there wasn’t a risk. But I won’t sit here and listen to you diminish what I feel because you’re scared of what might happen.”

“Not wanting me to go isn’t the same as wanting me to stay. I want you, Aiden. No one else. You decide what happens next, okay?”

“I know I keep doing this. I…make excuses every time you guys invite me somewhere. I skip out of family dinners and I—I don’t always answer text messages.” “Aiden—” “It’s easier for me like this. I think I convinced myself that if I loved you guys less—if I loved Mom less—it wouldn’t hurt so bad if I had—if I had to lose her.” I choke on the words. “So I kept myself apart and hoped it would help.”

Three cancer diagnoses in ten years and I couldn’t figure out how to deal with it, so I just decided not to. I buried my head in the sand and distanced myself from anything resembling emotional attachment. Like that, it was bearable. Like that, I could still breathe.

“What do you need to fix?” “Me,” I grind out. “I need to fix me.” This part of myself that relies on distance to function. The part that doesn’t want to get too close because the idea of getting attached to someone scares the shit out of me.

“Aiden.” My dad sighs. “You’re not broken.” “It feels like it.” I rub my chest. “I feel broken.” “I think maybe you’re just bruised.”

Love isn’t”—he sighs, a deep, rumbling sound—“love isn’t always sunshine and daisies. Sometimes it’s hospital beds and shaved heads. But I wouldn’t trade any of it. Because all of it is with her.”

“Here is what we’re gonna do. You and I, we’re gonna talk. More than once a month. More than we have been. Preferably not in the middle of the night when your old man is sleeping.” He pauses meaningfully and I snort a watery laugh. “You’re gonna answer your phone when your mom calls too, and you’re going to participate in the group chat. You’re gonna come over for Sunday dinner. You’re gonna come with us to baseball games. You’re gonna go back to therapy and talk to someone. I know you stopped going,” he says knowingly. “You’re gonna ask for help when you need it and you’re gonna learn what it’s like to love without being afraid, okay? You’ll take your time about it. You’ll put in the work.”

“You don’t like mornings. You don’t like to run. And you don’t like to spend time with people, so I’ll ask again. What the hell are you doing here?” “Maybe I need to do more things I don’t like,” I reply, my voice hoarse from all the unnecessary panting. I lift my arms up and then flop them back to the ground. “Maybe I need to stop acting like an asshole all of the time.”

“What brought on this introspection?” “Lucie,” I say, not bothering to wiggle my way around it. I’m too tired, and I miss her too much. “She cracked me right open, Jackie. I’m trying to be better.”

Feeling nosy, I reach for it and unfold it across my lap. Chocolate mints Daisies Fountain soda Coconut ChapStick Christmas cookies, the shortbread kind Yellow starbursts Pink starbursts The coffee creamer in the orange bottle I read it once and then again. It’s a list of—it’s a list of my favorite things. Things I’ve mentioned on the show and things I haven’t. Things he must have noticed.

“Long-time listener, first-time caller,” he says over the line. There’s a reluctant grin in his voice. It twists his words up at the edges, just like his smile. “I was hoping you could give me some advice.”

“What are you feeling right now?” “To start with, I’m eating pineapple pizza.” A laugh bursts out of me so quick and sharp, I ache with it. “Pineapple pizza is the best. I’m not sure that’s something you need to be worried about.” “Who says I was worried about it?” he asks lazily. “Noted.” Another laugh pops out of me like a soap bubble. “What else is going on?” “I think about her all the time. I wonder what she’s doing. I’ve got this hair tie on my wrist that I stole from her. She doesn’t know about it,” he adds as an afterthought, and the hope burns brighter. A solar flare in the middle of my chest. “Do you keep a list of her favorite things in your glove compartment?” He makes a short, amused sound. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. So I don’t forget.” “What else?” “She does this thing when she laughs…it’s like she laughs with her whole body. I’ve never seen anything like it. She holds her hands tight together like she’s—like she’s holding on to her happiness. Like she’s not afraid to grab it.” Aiden pauses, his breath gusting over the receiver. In the background, I hear the crunch of asphalt. He must be pacing, wherever he is. “I want to be the kind of man who deserves that laugh. Who earns it.” “It’s not about deserving,” I say, my throat tight. “If someone gives you something, you have it. You don’t have to earn it.”

“She told me once she doesn’t want to settle anymore and I think that’s what I’ve been doing. My whole life, I’ve intentionally broken everything down because it’s been easier for me to handle. And it’s been the same with her. I’ve been letting myself have sips of her, afraid of what might happen if I let myself go. But I want—I want to kiss her when other people are around. I want to hold her hand. I want to have pancakes at her house on Sunday mornings and I want to help with Indiana Jones costumes. I want her people to be my people too.”

“I’ve never let myself feel like this,” he confesses quietly. “I’m out of practice, but I’m going to work so damn hard at it. I promise.” “I’ll be right here with you.” “I know,” he whispers. I slip my hands beneath his sweatshirt, let myself feel the shape of him, and he sighs, dropping his cheek against the top of my head. “I’m gonna love you so good, Lucie.”

I squeeze my eyes shut tight, hoping I can hold on to this moment forever. It’s not perfect. Not even close. There’s something rattling under the raccoon couch. My preteen daughter and both of her dads are staring at us from the car parked in the corner of the lot. An early spring storm is rolling in and my hair is probably doing something ridiculous in the humidity. But it’s mine. Even in its flaws, this moment is mine.

Was Lucie here? Did we drift past one another and not even realize? The woman who changed my life—who carefully and quietly patched all my holes and rough spots—she was within reach and I didn’t even know it. A plate of cruffins appears in front of my face. I take one wordlessly. How long have Lucie and I been orbiting each other? How many chances did I miss before I picked up that phone call in the middle of the night? She said she wanted magic and I thought we found something better. Something real. But apparently there was a little magic, after all. A bunch of breadcrumbs dropped like pennies in a fountain, leading me right to her.

I’m thinking about her, about us, about this. About this tiny café across from her house and all the places we almost met. About the right time, the right place, the right moment. I’m thinking about the way her hand fits in mine, and the way my heart drums out a beat that matches her name. Lu-cie. Lu-cie. Lu-cie. The almosts and the maybes and the what-ifs. The universe lining up for one perfect moment and handing me her. I got so fucking lucky. I drag her mouth to mine and press a hard kiss against her lips. “I’m thinking about you.”