Page 50 of Blue Line

“Plus, I don’t even know if he likes me …”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know if he likes me or if he got backed into a corner and got stuck with me and now he’s too nice to tell me otherwise and the kiss and his body’s reaction was just that, a reaction, because he hasn’t had sex in however long because we’re fake engaged,” I ramble.

“I’m going to stop you right now. You’re assuming things. You need to talk to the man. Put your big girl pants on, and ask him.”

“I can’t.”

“Hadley Jane Abbott.” Callie puts on her stern voice, the one I imagine she uses with the baseball players she works with. “Maybe he’s the one you’re meant to be with …”

I roll my eyes even though she can’t see me. “Now you sound like him.”

“What?”

“I’ve heard him tell the other guys, and my brother, that they’re dating the one, and he’s been right.” I sigh. “That’s the other problem. He’s romantic, and I’m not.” I crinkle my nose. “Anniversaries and all that corny shit make me itchy.” Callie laughs. The bitch laughs at me. “What?”

“I love you. Remember that after what I’m about to say.”

“Oh-kay.”

“I think you’ve convinced yourself you don’t like romance and romantic gestures to protect yourself from being disappointed by all the assholes you’ve dated in the past. I know you, Hadley Jane. I remember when we used to sit in your backyard and plan our weddings.”

“We were ten. We didn’t know any better. Of course we were going to do that. Now that I’m a grown-up, I know all that romance shit isn’t real.”

“But maybe it is. Maybe you haven’t been with the right guy yet. Don’t write it off, Hads. Please. But for the love of carbs, please talk to the man.”

I huff out a breath, rolling her words over in my head for a few seconds.

“Fine. I will. Are you satisfied?”

“Yes.”

“How are things with you?”

Callie spends the next few minutes telling me about her job and one of the players who has been a nightmare to work with because of how grumpy and stubborn he is, and how she secretly enjoys riling him up.

“How’s the job search going?” she asks after she’s finished her story.

I groan. “I applied for a few more, one I’m super excited about, but I don’t know …”

“What don’t you know?”

I peek over at my camera case sitting on top of the dresser.

“I haven’t touched my camera since I got back to Florida.” I clear my throat, averting my gaze, feeling as though my camera is somehow judging me. “I think if I get rejected for all these jobs, it’s time to figure out a different career path.”

“Or maybe you just need to find what inspires you again. You’re talented. I wish my team needed another photographer because I’d refer you so fast. Don’t give up.”

“Thanks,” I mutter. “I feel so lost. I want to take pictures. I do. But I don’t know if I can …”

“Maybe find a park to wander around. Or a new place to explore. I think you’re in a rut with everything else going on, and you need to ride the wave. Or fill up your creative well.”

“I need to have something filled up, that’s for sure.”

“You did not just say that.” A beep sounds in the background. “Shit, I gotta go. The timer for my dinner just went off, and I need to take the pan out of the oven.”

“Okay. Thanks for talking me off the ledge.”