Where My Heart Breaks by Ivy Sinclair

school with Mallory, who owns the place. She’s been collecting coffee mugs since the first grade. Her mom would take her to every garage sale within a hundred mile radius. Every mug has a story, and Mallory remembers every single one of them.”
    “That’s kind of cool,” I said. I felt a pang of jealousy at how affectionately Reed spoke about his former classmate. “Guess she knew her calling from way back then.”
    “It helps pay the mortgage on this old place,” Reed said, leaning onto the table. “There’s not much else to do around here at night other than go to the bowling alley or Lula’s. I think the folks who aren’t into drinking the hard stuff appreciate the alternative.”
    I really only caught half of what Reed said because I was admiring his perfectly formed forearms. I blushed when I caught his raised eyebrow. I cleared my throat. “I will probably end up coming here a lot then. I don’t really do the drinking scene anymore.”
    “Can’t hold your liquor?” Reed’s eyes glinted in the soft porch light.
    I felt my body tense, but forced myself to relax. If we were going to be friends, I couldn’t stuff my demons back into the closet altogether. “Far from it. It’s just that I don’t make very smart decisions when I’ve been drinking, and there’s some short circuit in my brain that doesn’t seem to know when to stop. So my therapist recommended that I avoid it altogether until I get my other issues sorted out.” There. I pretty much put it all out there on the table. Now I’d see if Reed still wanted to entertain this idea of a friendship or not.
    Reed reached out and set his hand over mine, and for a second I forgot to breathe. I looked up and found his eyes searching my face. Had I said too much too soon? It was a relief to be honest, but I didn’t want him to think I was entirely broken. I was tired of hiding behind the wall of shame.
    “A lot of people don’t figure their issues out until it’s far too late, you know,” he said softly. “Sounds to me like you learned whatever lesson you were meant to learn and are doing your best to move on. I respect that.”
    I wanted to throw my arms around his neck in gratitude. I smiled instead and was rewarded with a wink from Reed. I pushed an imaginary hair back behind my ear and reminded myself that this wasn’t a date. It was just coffee and conversation. “Thanks. Maybe you could talk to my mother. She hasn’t been quite so understanding.”
    “Parents are quick to see the negative and usually the last ones to recognize it when their kids change,” Reed said, withdrawing his hand. “You’re better off working to please yourself instead of your mother.”
    His smile had faded away, and it wasn’t hard to guess that I stumbled onto a topic that appeared equally sensitive for him. He turned to his bag and pulled out a stack of file folders and a laptop. I stared. “What’s all this?”
    “You said that you wanted to research the locations in Where My Heart Breaks ,” Reed said. His tone was flat, and I hoped that my pathetic confession hadn’t completely killed the mood.
    I held up my notebook and the area map. “This was what I brought. What did you bring?”
    “My research notes,” Reed said. He powered up his laptop and didn’t meet my eyes. “I did my thesis work on Walter Moolen and the impact of Bleckerville and its folklore on Walter’s novel.”
    My mouth fell open. “Are you kidding me?”
    A ghost of a smile crossed Reed’s face. “I don’t kid about my thesis project. It was the most hellish semester of my entire college career. I think I still have nightmares about it.”
    “You have a Master’s degree?” I tried not to sound surprised. Every time I felt like I had a beat on Reed Black, he pulled out another wild card.
    “I finished it last year. Then I picked up the only job I could find with such a sorry excuse for a degree as a Master’s in English. I teach contemporary literary fiction at