He cocked his head to the side. “Maybe it is your fault.” He narrowed his eyes, and we both laughed. “Our relationship is . . . ​ complicated. It always feels like I’m fuckin’ up, like I’m not doing or saying the right thing.”

I sat back as he turned on the truck and pulled out of the parking lot.

“Sorry,” he said, staring straight ahead. “That was too personal.”

“No, it’s okay,” I said. “So, you guys have a tough relationship?”

He hesitated before letting his shoulders fall and shaking his head. “I wouldn’t say tough. I love her more than anything. She expects a lot from me. Makes me feel like I’m always letting her down.”

“Because you twisted your ankle?”

“It’s not just that.” He sighed heavily. “It’s nothing. I need to stop being so emotional.”

“Nah, don’t say that,” I said. “Emotional is good.”

His mouth drew up into an amused smile. His phone buzzed in his pocket as we pulled up to the house. He put the car in park, then glanced at the screen and sighed. “She don’t know when to quit.”

I hopped out, grabbing the bag of field guides. “Whatever’s happening between you and your mom, I hope it gets better,” I said. “And you can absolutely talk to me if you need to.”

He smiled, but it was all mouth and no eyes. “Wanna get breakfast tomorrow?”

“Or you can come over and I can make you breakfast!” Mo came bounding toward the truck, rubbing her hands together.

“How did you even hear what he said?” I asked. “Were you waiting on the porch?”

“Yes,” said Mo, unapologetic.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” said Karter.

“Come by about nine. I make a killer Belgian waffle.”

“You’ve never made a waffle in your whole life,” I said. I’d never met anybody who could cook lunch and dinner so well but couldn’t make breakfast food to save their life. That was why the people at the bagel shop knew us by name. “Didn’t you burn the scrambled eggs last time you—”

Mo caught me in a bear hug so that I couldn’t say anything else.

“See you tomorrow, Karter. Bring your appetite, hun.”

“I’ll be here,” he said. “Bye, Briseis.” He turned the truck around and took off.

Mo grinned as I wriggled free of her grasp and pushed up my glasses.

“Really?” I said. “Why are you acting like this? Are you okay? Do you need to lie down?” I put my hand on her forehead to see if she felt hot.

“Girl, stop,” she said, smiling. “I’m happy to see you getting out of the house and making friends.”

“Are you really gonna make waffles?” I asked Mo. “We just moved in. Mom’ll be pissed if you burn this place down.”

“It’ll be fine. Tell me more about Karter. You like him, huh?”