Suffer Love by Ashley Herring Blake Page B

that didn’t aggravate her asthma. Something about the warm air and humidity wasn’t as hard on the breathing tubes as the conditions of other cardio workouts.
    â€œWhat about you, Sam?” Mom asked.
    â€œWhat about me?”
    â€œSchool?”
    â€œSchool is school, Mom. Same here as it is everywhere else.”
    â€œI wouldn’t say that. Hunter Academy is so different from anything I’ve ever experienced. I wish I’d gone there as a teenager. The staff really believes in fostering individual talents. It’s amazing.”
    â€œWell, we don’t go to Hunter, do we?”
    Mom dropped her fork and leveled me with a glare. “You wouldn’t like it.”
    â€œSure. Whatever you say, Mom.”
    â€œWhy do you have to make everything so difficult?”
    I sat back, almost flabbergasted. Almost. “I’m not making anything difficult. I’m here, aren’t I? I moved. Again. I made your dinner. I helped Livy unpack her room. What do you want from me?”
    â€œA little less attitude.”
    â€œSorry, I’m having a hard time knocking that back a notch. Something about being dragged away from my few friends for the second time in less than six months, with Dad up in Boston, just leaves a sour taste in my mouth.”
    She tugged on her earlobe, something she always does when she’s nervous. Or when we’re nervous. When I had bad dreams as a kid, I used to cower on her lap while she sang and ran her thumb over my ear.
    â€œYour father chose to go to Boston,” she said, dropping her hand. “And he chose to go alone. That’s not my fault.”
    Livy chewed on her lip, moving her food around her plate. Mom sighed and pressed her eyes closed. For a second, I really thought she was going to apologize. But she forged ahead, her hands white on the edges of the table.
    â€œWe wouldn’t be in this situation, Samuel, if you had been a little less rash and a little less selfish.”
    My jaw tightened. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Livy’s head snap up. Mom and I stared at each other, and right there, in that moment, I almost told her about Hadley. I wasn’t positive this was the right girl, but something in my gut said I knew exactly who she was and I wanted to see Mom’s face when she found out.
    But Livy was in the room.
    So I shut up.
    But I couldn’t shake this overwhelming urge to pour all of my shit on Mom the way she’d done to me for the past six months. To change the tide, if that was even possible.
    So two hours later, I got a better idea. No big deal. Hadley and I needed to work on the project anyway. This was just a way to get under Mom’s skin a little.
    Now, standing in my room, Hadley’s voice still echoing in my ear, the prospect of her gingery smell filling up my house, that “better idea” makes me feel like a complete douche.

Chapter Seven
Hadley
    My legs, which I had locked into place right before I rang the doorbell, turn to water as soon as he opens the door.
    Because he looks good.
    Not in a Josh Ellison I-can-get-any-girl-I-want kind of way, but in this boyish, relaxed sort of way that makes my resolve turn to mush. His hair is sticking up like he’s been pulling on it and his light blue T-shirt hugs his trim torso. His blue eyes are wide on mine, as though he’s a little surprised I showed up.
    â€œHey,” he says without smiling, but his gaze slides up my body in a flash. “Come on in.”
    â€œThanks.” I give him a smile and let my shoulder brush against his chest as I pass. He smells like some cool, clean soap and . . . Is that cinnamon?
    â€œSorry about the mess.” He weaves through a maze of cardboard boxes. “We just moved in last week.”
    Like this isn’t obvious. “Where did you move from?”
    â€œAtlanta. We lived with my grandma for the summer.” He pushes a box labeled LINENS away from the stairs and