One Broke Girl by Rhonda Helms Page B

sweet guy—always had been. Was I being unfair by comparing him to Gavin? After all, Steven wasn’t around to defend himself or point out all of his good qualities or kiss away my confusion.
    I kicked my feet on the end of the couch and stretched out, back leaning against the arm. This distance was impacting us—I knew that much for sure. Where we used to talk daily, now we were barely sending more than a handful of texts and the occasional goodnight call. Even he’d gotten bad about not responding to messages for a day or two. Was this all my fault?
    I kept Steven at arm’s length with my secrets. He still didn’t know about my mom…and the more time that passed, the harder it was for me to say anything. I knew it would hurt his feelings for me to tell him now; he’d wonder why I’d kept it secret for so long, why I hadn’t trusted him.
    And therein was the crux of the issue. For some reason, I didn’t want to tell him. Which made me feel like a huge jerk. The secrets and the distance were making me pull away from him.
    I rolled a mouthful of wine in my mouth then swallowed. The temptation was there to grab my phone, call him and blurt it all out. Just to see what his response was. But I knew that was the wine talking, a false bravado I’d probably regret. Steven was with his friends—it would be rude to interrupt their time to ease my guilt.
    Yet another excuse to not tell the truth.
    With a sigh, I put my phone in my pocket so I wouldn’t do anything dumb. I had to face facts—my feelings for Steven were changing, but I wasn’t quite ready to end it with him yet. I was going to have to make a hard decision soon though. Either stop talking so much to Gavin or do something about Steven. Because I couldn’t live in this weird middle ground for much longer.

Chapter Ten
    “Here ya go, Dad.” I slid two eggs onto his plate beside the lumpy pancakes I hoped tasted good.
    To his credit, he didn’t wince when he noticed how awful the eggs looked. Just smiled and grabbed a slice of toast. “Thanks for making Sunday breakfast. I don’t remember the last time we went all out like this.”
    I did. It was before we’d moved here. Mom had made a big brunch for us just a week before she left.
    I got in my seat and eyed my food. Here’s hoping.
    “You okay?” he asked as he laid the paper napkin on his paint-splattered pants. We were both working this afternoon, so this morning was our rest and relaxation time. Given how busy we were, we hadn’t seen much of each other over the last several days.
    I nodded and dug in. The eggs weren’t as fluffy as I’d hoped, but they were serviceable. “Just thinking about…things,” I mumbled around a mouthful.
    “I accepted the offer on the condo, pending your mom’s final approval,” Dad said. “The lawyer is working on contacting her so she can sign off on the paperwork. He’s okay with us postponing payment of his fees until the condo sells.”
    It was on the top of my tongue to blurt out that I was looking for her too, though my PI hadn’t found anything yet. “She isn’t going to fight you on this, is she?”
    He shook his head, and I heard a quiet sigh. “No, she just wants out of this all. The house, the marriage. The life.”
    That anger came back fresh and strong, surging in my chest and making my skin hot. “I’m still so mad at her. I can’t believe she hasn’t reached out to me at all. Two months have gone by and not one word from her. What kind of mom does that to her daughter?” Apparently one who was too busy getting banged by her new man. Whatever.
    Dad sat there with his hands in his lap, not moving. Then he said, “I’m mad about that too, kiddo. It’s one thing to leave me. Another to pull this shit on you.”
    I blinked. My dad wasn’t one to talk so bluntly about things. I took a bite of pancake and tried to think about how to word my next question. “What happened with you two? Why did she really leave? She said in her note that