Page 59 of Breakaway
But that was the point, right? Homemade, all by him, and from the heart.
He even bought a chocolate bar that had the words “I’m Sorry” written on the label.
He listened to the radio, singing along to his favorite song, while he secured each cookie in a cellophane bag. Then he stacked the cookies in an airtight container with the candy bar—because the guy at the craft store said this was the best way to send them through the mail to avoid them arriving as a container of crumbs. The next song was one of the ones Willow had got him performing, the night he’d helped Morgan babysit. He remembered the night vividly. It had been so much fun, performing with Willow and making Morgan laugh.
Then it hit him. Morgan had teased him that he should post a YouTube video—she’d been joking of course, because that would be embarrassing.
Yes. Embarrassing. Humiliating. Maybe just enough.
An idea was forming. And if social media had got him into this mess, maybe he could use it to fix the situation.
As soon as he dropped off the package at the postal store, he had some work to do! And as fate would have it, tonight was karaoke night at the local bar. He texted Ben for his help. Plans were already in motion—there was no stopping him now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Morgan
Morgan tossed the new bouquet of flowers into the trash, just as she had with the first one. It was a shame, because they were pretty, but a few flowers weren’t going to fix this.
“What are you doing?” Katie asked, her eyes wide in question. “They are so pretty.”
Morgan shrugged. “I’m not a flowers kind of girl, sorry.”
“Are you ever going to let him explain?”
All she could do was shrug again. She was still hurting, and as far as she knew, there was no moratorium on a broken heart. “He wasn’t the man that I thought he was. He lied to me. No other explanation needed.”
“Girl, I adore you, but he is trying to explain things to you. And maybe he is just a dirty dog, but aren’t you at least going to hear him out?”
She didn’t want to hear him out. Listening to him try to lie his way out of it would surely rip her heart open again, and she didn’t think she could bear it. Her phone rang, the photo on the screen showing that it was Aunt Trina.
“Hello?”
“Hi Morgan, how are you, sweetie?”
“I’m hanging in there. What’s up? And please don’t tell me you’re putting my uncle on the phone so he can say I told you so.”
“No, he doesn’t know I’m calling.”
“Um, okay?” Now she was very confused.
“Some of the girls follow the team on social media. Well, it’s been brought to my attention that you are now the star of Travis Anderson’s Instagram page.”
“Huh?” None of what Aunt Trina just said made any sense. The last time Morgan had looked at his Instagram page, he’d been tagged in heaps of photos of him at bars with many girls hanging all over him.
“Morgan, you need to see this. Go check it out. I’ll wait.”
Morgan pulled up Travis’s Instagram to see what could possibly be so interesting that all the WAGs were talking about it. And there it was.
Every post on his page had been replaced with selfies of him and her together, and there were a few candid ones of her that she didn’t even know he’d taken. He had even taken the time to put filters on the ones of only her—some had hearts, some with starbursts, one was in black and white—it was all very unlike Travis to spotlight things in his personal life like that.
She scrolled through the images. Some had no caption, simply a heart. One of the candids of her was captioned, “My Heart.”
The newest photo was of him sitting alone in the Falcons rink, was captioned “Back in Wilkes Barre, but my heart is in Pittsburgh.” Morgan’s heart skipped a beat.
“So?” Aunt Trina asked, the impatience obvious in her voice.
“Um, I don’t know what to say.”