Bloomsbury Spark Romance Sampler

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Romance Chapter Sampler Saving Maverick

by Debra Elise Baseball star Maverick Jansen falls into a complicated game of PR strategy by day and searing passion by night.

One Good Thing

by Lily Maxton A forbidden affair heats up the office in this romance.

Instalove

by Lexy Baker A steamy romance of celebrity love on a college campus.

The Edge of You

by Theresa DaLayne He left home to escape. She made a new life out of guilt.

Neither one expected to find love—but not even the Arctic can cool this romance.

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CHAPTER 1

Maverick Jansen woke to the sound of a jack hammer tearing down his hotel room door.

Hungover again. He buried his head deep under the pillow to block out the world. It didn’t work.

“Mav. Get your ass up and unlock the damn door.” Luke Garibaldi, catcher on the Idaho Outlaws of the United States Baseball League, had just rocketed to the top of his shit list. But he was quite possibly his last friend on Earth, The pounding started again. Like someone was doing a tap dance on his skull; a really bad, fucking annoying tap dance.

“C’mon bro, it’s Luke, I need to show you something. Let me in.”

Throwing his pillow across the room, Mav ripped the sheets off and stood. His world tilted. Damn. He’d lost himself in another bottle of his eighty-dollar whiskey. Knowing he needed to break the habit; the demons of the day won as they typically did, and he’d drink until he passed out. It was the only sure way of keeping the nightmares at bay.

“Someone down the hall is calling security. Mav?” Luke said. True concern laced his words. Luke wasn’t one to cause a scene, but he wasn’t ready to face anyone. Not even his best friend.

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Maverick shot back. “In that case shithead, I’m going back to bed. You’re on your own.

A charmer like you can fend for yourself.” He grabbed his head and cursed himself. Yeah, he maybe shouldn’t shout yet. Not at least until the marching band left.

Despite Mav’s poor performance on the mound last year and now being on the disabled list, their new team owner, T.S. Scott, was standing behind him. He still couldn’t get over the fact that he was still on the team after the league’s winter meetings. He thought for sure he’d be traded or let go after the disaster at the division championships.

But that second chance hadn’t cured his frequent trips to the bottom of the whiskey bottle.

More pounding.

“What the hell, Luke? I’m ten feet away from you, not back in Boston.” Maverick yelled. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and used words his momma never taught him.

He heard a heavy sigh come through the door. “Man, the last thing you need is security riding your hide. Open up.” Luke paused. “Please? I have news and it’s not good.”

“Alright ... alright, hold your goddamn horses you citified cowboy.”

Bracing his pitching arm against the wall next to his bed in the five-star resort bedroom overlooking Lake Coeur d’Alene, Mav thought about moving towards the door, but that’s as far as he got.

Damn, it hurt like hell to think.

He took a deep breath and stood up. “Hang on. Let me throw some pants on.” He stumbled around in the darkened room and searched for his sweats.

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Luke was right. He sure as hell didn’t need hotel security up in his business. Squinting at the clock he thought it said four-ten, but was it morning or afternoon? He made his way towards the door before Luke could begin another round of rat-a-tat-tat.

“Mav, I swear to the good Lord above, if you don’t come open this door, I’m knocking it down.”

Shit. Again with the dramatic crap. Maverick had had enough bad news in the last few months to last him two lifetimes, the desperate tone in Luke’s voice slammed him right back to the night his brother was killed.

The reality of what awaited him on the other side of the door turned his blood ice cold as memories assailed him. Maverick’s stomach clenched, the nausea he thought he had under control, reared its ugly head.

“Now, Maverick. I’ve seen your package in the locker room. If I wasn’t impressed then, I sure as hell won’t be now.”

Maverick hopped on one foot as he finished pulling on his sweats. “This better be good Luke, because I was having the best wet dream of my life before you showed up.” Not really, but he needed one more moment to steady himself.

Ready or not he threw the deadbolt and flung open the door to let in the only person in the world who still gave a shit about him.

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Luke brushed past him and started talking a mile a minute. “Slow down man, I need coffee to keep up with your motor mouth.” Maverick held an arm over his eyes as the glare from the hallway assaulted him.

“Mav you need to see this. Some asshole taped you going off on our ex-owner, the league and the commissioner. It’s all over YouTube and I just saw one of the network channels use it as a tease for the lead story on the evening news.”

“What are you talking about, Luke? When? I haven’t been anywhere expect here at the hotel for the past two days.”

He dragged his sorry ass back across the room and sat in a lounge chair and put his feet up. Luke was looking pretty fuzzy, so he closed his eyes and prayed. When was he going to get a break so he could heal in peace?

“Yeah, well it wasn’t since we’ve been in town. Remember when we hit O’Shays Pub right after it was announced the team was sold and the new owner would be moving us to Idaho?”

“Wait a minute, wasn’t that the night that crazy girl and her friends followed us from the restaurant and she kept trying to get me to, uh… kiss her?”

“Yup a kiss and then some. I think she said she wanted to have your baby.” Luke scratched his chin and zoned out for a second. “Too bad we left after that. Her friend was hot.”

“Luke, focus. Get your head out of your pants and get back to the reason you nearly tore down my door.” He had a gut feeling this conversation was not going to end well.

“Hey, look who’s calling the kettle black, Mr. Bad Boy of Baseball.” Luke held out his smartphone to Maverick. “Press play, bro.”

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“Call me that again and you’ll be eating this phone.” Mav hated the nickname the press had stuck on him his first year in the show. He took his friends phone and sat forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. A lump the size of a cement truck materialized in his gut.

He so fucking did not need any more drama in his life.

He watched his image appear in the smoky shadows of the pub he and the rest of the players hung out in after home games. He watched himself rant on the league for letting the new owner move the team to “Hicksville”. He cringed as he listened to his stupid-ass-self complain there were probably “only two traffic lights and not even an Applebee’s.”

Between his f-bombs and hand gestures, it wasn’t hard for anyone to know what he thought about what he considered the “doom” of the team. It also wasn’t hard to guess what the woman on his lap wanted from him.

Damn, damn, damn.

The video ended and Mav tossed the phone back to Luke. “How many hits did you say the video got?”

“I didn’t, but it’s going on four hundred and fifty thousand.” Luke plopped his lanky frame down in the chair across from him and looked as sick as Mav felt. “It’s also on the local news and the tabloid shows are tearing apart every word you said. They’re throwing out crazy theories and talking about your “purported” drinking problem.”

What the Hell? He wasn’t a drunk dammit. Well, not yet officially—maybe. Even he knew he was walking a fine line with his current love affair with premium whiskey. He leaned forward and hung his head in his hands. God, he needed something for the drum solo playing in his head.

“Hey, do me a solid and grab a water bottle out of the mini-fridge would ya?”

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Damn. Maverick never considered someone would tape him in O’Shay’s. That was a safe haven for the team where the patrons left them alone and treated them like one of the gang.

“So, don’t you think you need to call your agent and see what you should do?” Luke tossed him the water bottle.

“I would, if I hadn’t fired his ass last week.” Mav took a swig of the water and wished he hadn’t. It rolled around his stomach. What his body really craved was the only sure thing that would cut through the fog of the morning after, coffee—strong and sweet.

“What is with you? You need someone to handle this crap. You can’t do it all on your own, plus work on rehabbing your arm.”

“Yeah, well he was skimming, Luke, and all because I trusted him to handle my accounting too. So no, I don’t need some slick ‘yes-man’ pretending he cares about my career so he can get his hands on my endorsement money.”

Mav tried to ignore what looked like pity on Luke’s face. “Listen, don’t feel sorry for me, I’ve had enough of that from everyone since the accident. Besides, it was effing satisfying when Jerry realized he wasn’t dealing with some rookie ballplayer who doesn’t know a capital expenditure from depreciation. I guess the MBA I earned to please my father paid off after all.”

“Okay, so now you have no one to call, other than T.S. Scott. And man, our new owner is not gonna be happy with you. Bad timing, cause I know you want to get off the DL by the time we report to spring training.”

Mav stared at his buddy. They’d been through a lot. Baseball had brought them together; pitcher and catcher in the beginning, then friends and now—brothers. They’d been through a lot recently and Luke was the last person he wanted to disappoint. He needed to man up and act like this situation was fixable if nothing else. No big deal.

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“So, what’s your first move?” Luke asked.

“I could be wrong here, but I think this is going to blow over in a day or two. I mean c’mon there’ve been plenty of players complaining about the move to Hicksville… I mean Pineville. My comments just so happened to have been recorded when I wasn’t aware.”

“You mean drunk.” Luke smirked.

“Not drunk, dammit. You were there. Sure I had a few, but I was far from drunk.”

Mav stood up and began to pace the room. He felt caged. Who could he reach out to for help when everyone he trusted was either dead or had given up trying to get him out of the hell he’d placed himself in?

Luke moved out of his way and asked another valid question he didn’t have an answer for. “Okay maybe not shit faced drunk, but you’d had a few. How will you handle the fact you had a half-naked woman on your lap while you were railing against the commissioner and our joke of an ex-owner for selling the team?”

“Yeah, that’s something I’m going to have to work on.” Mav groaned and rubbed the knots from his neck. “But first I need to get some decent coffee and a hot shower. What time is it anyway?” Mav asked.

His entire body ached. He’d need more than a couple aspirin to shake the hangover this time. He stood in front of the sliding glass doors and watched the heavy rain drops plop onto the lake. The storm which the local forecaster promised had arrived.

“Four-thirty.” Luke answered.

“In the afternoon?” Mav turned away from the view he’d grown to enjoy since he’d been in Pineville. No answers would be found out there today.

“Yeah, in the afternoon. The party’s in two hours.”

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“Shit.”

He’d forgotten about the event their new owner had set up to introduce his players to the city movers and shakers. The one bright spot of the evening would be meeting the directors of the Children’s Place. The Outlaw’s had chosen the organization to work with as part of their commitment to community outreach.

Mav knew it important to work with kids whenever he could to not only give back but to show the younger generation that life wasn’t all about fame and fortune. Lending a helping hand was far more important in his book then writing a check.

“You really need a keeper. And, you have to come up with an explanation for T.S., the USBL…oh and, let’s not forget the tens of thousands of local community members who’ll be buying tickets.”

“Fuck me.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Luke grinned.

“You’re a real comedian Luke, but right now you’re the only one still speaking to me, so help me out and call room service for some decent coffee while I shower and try to come up with a plan. Otherwise, we both might be out of a job by tomorrow.”

“Wait. What? Why would I be out of a job?” Luke asked. A hint of panic in his voice.

“Because cowboy, your mug is in the background of that video grinning like a fool.”

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CHAPTER 2

Kelsey Sullivan waited in the stark white executive reception area of the almost-finished Idaho Outlaw’s stadium. She stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows and drank in the dramatic view of the diamond-dotted surface of Lake Coeur d’Alene directly behind the newly built facility in Pineville.

It was late January and the sky was full of dark clouds ready to burst. She thought about the man whose viral tirade had brought her back to her hometown. She’d bet her last dollar, he was ready to burst right about now. And if he wasn’t then there’d be little hope even she could fix the mess he’d created.

Her thoughts turned to team owner Thomas Scott. He didn’t do things half way and after spending millions to bring his boyhood dream to reality, his star pitcher had ignored all attempts for help.

Even when they were kids, Thomas had never settled for less than the best. T.S., as he was known to family and friends, had been her childhood crush at the ripe old age of ten for all of five minutes. When all they did was giggle when they experimented with first base, a close bond soon formed between the lonely rich boy and the girl from the wrong side of the tracks.

But she was only here today as a favor to T.S. and he was running late.

Kelsey glanced up at the clock next to the elevator instead of her watch this time. Maybe her watch was off? It showed ten to six. Her appointment had been at five-thirty. Unusual time for a business meeting, but she knew this was important to him so she’d wait.

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T.S.’s secretary answered yet another phone call. This time instead of saying the usual, “No he’s unavailable at this time” reply Kelsey had heard at least a dozen times in the last half hour, she heard, “Yes, she’s still here.”

Before the secretary hung up her phone, the massive mahogany door opened and out strode the uber-successful, uber-rich and sometimes uber-obnoxious T.S. Scott. Good thing she loved him or she’d rip him a new one for keeping her waiting.

Tall and imposing at six-three, he towered over her petite frame and most everyone who dared to duel with him in the boardroom. Kelsey stood up and before she took two steps, she was enveloped in a huge bear hug.

Laughing, Kelsey pinched his side and exclaimed, “T.S. I can’t breathe.”

He took a step back and gave her one of his dimpled smiles followed by a squinty eyed once over. Aw, the lethal look she remembered well. “Yup, you’re still gorgeous. Anyone I need to keep in line for you? A new boyfriend? Some guy who isn’t treating you like the princess you are?” That was T.S. in a nutshell. Always looking out for her even if they hadn’t seen each other in ages.

“No, T.S. There’s no one at the moment. But thanks for the offer.”

“Thanks for coming on such short notice.” He gave her another quick hug. To the outside world he was as tough as they come, but with her, he showed a softer side and he was the big brother she never had.

“T.S. you don’t have to thank me. You call, I’m there.”

“And I really appreciate it, Kels. Now, are you ready to go?” Just like that, he was back in business mode.

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Confused by the question, she noticed his expectant look as if she were the one keeping him waiting. “Um, you mean into your office? Yes, I’m ready any...”

“No, I mean to attend the party with me?” He said.

“Party? Um, I think you’re confusing me with one of your many girlfriends. I wasn’t aware this was a date.” Kelsey teased.

“I’m sure I told you on the phone that my schedule was tight and we’d be attending the reception the city council set up. It’s a fund raiser for a local charity, the Children’s Club.”

Kelsey looked down at her business suit and sighed. “If you had told me, would I be wearing a button down jacket and matching skirt? Dang it T.S., I don’t have time to change into cocktail attire.”

“Hey, you look great to me. Besides you always outshine the women in any room.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere buster.” Damn why hadn’t she thought to pack more than business clothes? Men rarely gave attire an issue when it came to attending parties. I wonder if I have time to…

“Look, I’m sorry Kels. With everything going on and the stadium’s construction, the relocation of the team, and now this viral video…”

“Right, the infamous Mr. Bad Boy of Baseball himself has gotten into yet another tight spot. I’ve checked out the video. He definitely isn’t doing you or the team any favors. Maybe you should just cut your losses, let him out of his contract. I mean from the little bit of research I did on him during the plane, he’s injured and lost his edge.”

“You know how I hate to disagree with you Kelsey, but I will anyway. Maverick Jansen may currently be a thorn in my ass, but he has talent, lots of it. He’s coming off a rough end to

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the season and the death of his kid brother. I’m willing to ride this out, for now, but I need your super PR powers to help him. And me. What do you say?”

T.S. flashed her what she was sure was the cheesiest smile in existence. Should she…

T.S.’s secretary cleared her throat. Twice. Kelsey sighed. Saved by the secretary.

“Yes Lois?” T.S. turned towards his stylish, fifty-something employee.

Hmm, I wonder if she has anything I could borrow? But her hopes were dashed when Lois answered her boss.

“Mr. Scott, Henry is waiting for you down in the garage. He has the car ready to go.”

“Thanks Lois, please let him know we’ll be down shortly.”

“How late are we?” Kelsey asked.

Lois answered for T.S., “thirty-minutes. The reception began at five-thirty. They’ve been expecting you for fifteen. I’ve had a phone call every five minutes asking for your status.” She sent them both a stern look over her glasses.

Kelsey had to turn her head away. She concealed her laugh with a pretend cough. Good for Lois. T.S. needed someone to keep him in line.

T.S. thanked Lois again but before he could sweet talk her into taking on his star pitcher, she cut him off.

“Listen, I appreciate you giving me this opportunity, but as I said on the phone I’m slammed with high maintenance clients and I’m breaking in a new partner. If it was anyone else, I would have hung up the phone. So, I’ll hear you out and weigh the pros and cons and then turn you down. Probably.”

She had no room for a sport celebrity who refused to help himself.

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“Kelsey, you’re killing me here. I need you on this ASAP. Send Lois your invoice for the flight and I’ll cover it for you. Oh, and your social security number. She’ll set you up on the payroll tonight.”

“First, I was already on my way back into town and second, I haven’t said I’d take the job.”

“But, you will.”

“We’ll see.” She countered.

“Kelsey, name you price. I need you on this. Despite our friendship, you’re the best public relations specialist I know—“ “I’m the only one you know.” She laughed.

“—how you handled the drama between the Carell sisters was brilliant. I need your expertise in handling this situation. Besides, you owe me and I know you too well. You’d never turn down a friend in need.”

“I. Owe. You. Really?” Kelsey loved a good sparring match, and it’d been years since she’d and T.S. had gone a round. “If you’re referring to the infamous double-date, I’d say the statute of limitations have expired on that one. Sorry.”

“Actually I’m referring to three years ago when that Italian businessman wouldn’t take no for an answer. I think I played a very convincing jealous lover, don’t you?”

Kelsey snickered. T.S. did save her from an embarrassing situation, but she’d never let him know that. “If you want to convince me to help you out and take a job I’d normally never consider, you need to do better than that.”

T.S. did better than that. He used his old stand-by move from their childhood. Dammit.

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“Alright, alright. Stop flashing me those puppy dog eyes. Jeez, I’m hoping this isn’t how you are in the boardroom. Eww, the thought gives me the heebie-jeebies.” She shivered for effect and watched him squirm at her teasing.

“So dazzle me with your pitch “Mr. More Money than God.” T.S. switched back to corporate mode and placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her towards the elevator.

“We can talk in the car and during the party. I need you to jump right in and get this situation contained—as in yesterday.”

“Now there’s the all-business, no-bull CEO I know and love. Oh, and just because I’m going to this event with you doesn’t mean I’ve agreed to anything. And, my rates will be double what they usually are—if I agree.”

T.S. ignored her comment and continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’ve put a lot of my personal money behind this team, but I have investors to answer to, so getting Maverick back on track in the public’s eye and on the pitching mound is my number one priority. My goal, after tonight, is that it’ll become yours as well.”

“T.S. based on the video, I think it’s going to take more than a few days to contain the public outrage over his remarks. Plus, there are the rumors that his problems are deeper than losing his pitching control. Any truth to his drinking getting out of hand?”

“Maybe. But I believe there’s no one better than you to get my star player back in the good graces of the United States Baseball League and the locals. More importantly, the ticket buyers.” T.S said.

“Thanks for the confidence, but until I can spend more time following every lead on his past, I won’t know if it’s possible to fix his reputation. Don’t let our friendship overrule your 14 17

good business sense.” Kelsey knew he wouldn’t, but this was a negotiation and she rocked at negotiations.

He continued to stare her down. Like when they argued over who was better, Superman or Batman. Superman of course.

“T.S. I’m concerned that he fired his agent and that he hasn’t taken any steps to respond on social media to the video. It’s been ten hours since this thing exploded. And there’re a dozen other questions I have that I don’t think you can answer right now. More importantly, I need to figure out if your ballplayer is worth my talents and my time. So, let’s get to this party you didn’t tell me about. I need a drink.”

T.S. flashed her a crooked smile. “I dare you.” He challenged.

Dammit, he knew her too well. She never could turn town a dare. Secretly though, she wasn’t so sure she was up to dealing with the Bad Boy of Baseball. She liked the sport, but not always the men who played it.

Kelsey ignored his dare and followed him towards the waiting limo. “So, where’s the party being held?” Kelsey asked.

“At the Lakeside Resort, in Coeur d’Alene. It’s a short drive and after we arrive and get some drinks, we’ll talk more about what I have mind. I’ll introduce you to some of the city leaders. Maybe you could field some of their concerns with Maverick blasting the city and its inhabitants?” T.S. settled back in the rich leather seat of the late model SUV. He was definitely a man used to getting his way.

Within ten minutes they’d arrived at the resort. “Thank you Henry. I’ll call you when we’re ready to return to the stadium.” T.S. walked over to her side of the car and placed his hand

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lightly on her elbow. They began walking towards the entrance and through the revolving doors to the hotel.

“You know, this is plain weird, right? We’ve never worked together. What if it ruins our friendship?”

“We won’t let it. Short of posting childhood pictures of me on Twitter, there’s nothing you could do to end our friendship.” T.S. assured her.

“Well, the evening’s just begun. You shouldn’t have planted the idea.” Kelsey teased.

“This isn’t a job interview Kels. As far as I’m concerned, the job’s yours. I need to get you to agree to take it, friendship not withstanding.

“Are you sure he even wants to change? From what I’ve seen of him lately, he quite enjoys ticking off the league and providing plenty of talking points for the news media. Not to mention his revolving stable of women.”

T.S. chuckled and placed an arm around her shoulder.

“Glad I amuse you.” Kelsey sidestepped his hug and punched him. Not as hard as she wanted, but enough to let him know she was serious.

“You know, I expected you to be equally upset with Maverick. After all, he went after you in the video too. Yet, not once this evening have you said anything derogatory about him.

Why is that?”

“Because that’s what everyone would have expected. Don’t worry, he’ll hear about it, in private. I’m not interested in airing the team’s dirty laundry tonight. Plus, I know if he hadn’t been still reeling from the death of his brother and the loss of the division championship, he most likely wouldn’t have had such an ugly reaction.”

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“Smart. Tell me why you gambled so much on a boyhood dream? Owning a USBL and moving it to Pineville means that much to you, doesn’t it.” Kelsey asked.

“Life’s a gamble Kelsey. Nothing is achieved if you tell yourself it can’t be done. Plenty of people did that to me in my life. I still run into that type of person from time to time, especially since I bought the team. Maverick just got caught talking about what a lot of people are still are thinking about this ball club. And yes, bringing the organization to Pineville mean everything to me. I’m not naïve enough to think it’s going to be a piece of cake, but it’s going to be worth it. And I have every belief that I will succeed and ‘Scott’s Folly’ will not be a failure.”

Kelsey raised an eyebrow at the mention of the nickname the media had labeled the team’s move to Idaho. No one in the sports world was betting he would succeed. Probably because they’d never been in his presence.

“What do you say Kelsey? Do we have a deal?”

What could she say? She’d already begun mapping out an aggressive social media campaign using Twitter, a few blog posts, volunteer opportunities in the community, and first and foremost, a sincere apology.

She knew she could handle the logistics of the job. But did she want to? Could she set aside her past prejudices towards baseball players and be the professional both Maverick and T.S. needed? But yeah, she wanted this job.

“And since you’re back in town, do you plan on letting Lara or Noel know you’re here?”

Well, well. When had T.S. become so interested in her two best girlfriends? They had been inseparable all through school until Kelsey had left for college. She’d texted them both after she booked her plane ticket.

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“We don’t have anything solid planned. They know I’m in town for a short while. Why are you so interested?”

“Just wondering. Thought it would be another perk for you.”

Uh, uh. The man was digging for information.

“That’s so thoughtful of you, T.S. Now, why don’t you tell me the real reason you’re asking? Which one is on your radar?”

The man squirmed. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and honest to god squirmed. Oh, how she was going to have fun with this.

“Nothing like that, Kelsey. You know me better. I don’t have time for relationships. I was only asking because Noel had bid on my new condo project and she didn’t win. So…” “So, you want to know if she called me to curse you out or maybe to see if I could pull some strings for her.” Kelsey took another sip of chardonnay and waited him out. She’d never seen her friend speechless before.

“Nothing like that. I was only curious if she had mentioned it.” He took a large sip of his own drink and plastered a bored look on his face. Nope. She wasn’t buying it.

“No, T.S., she didn’t say a word to me. But I can find out if you want to know. Then I’ll see if she likes you, likes you or if—“ “Hell, forget I said anything. Can we get back on subject here?”

The intensity in his plea got to her. So she let him off the hook—for now.

“It’s important that Maverick apologizes immediately. Tonight is preferable. And he needs to mean it. He needs to prove to the national and local fans that he regrets his actions, his word choice. It’s crucial for the Pineville residents and surrounding communities to see and believe that what he said while drunk was not how he truly felt.”

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“Perfect. I knew I could count on you. If he doesn’t show up tonight, we’ll get you two together first thing tomorrow morning….”

“Wait, I have terms. Don’t you want to hear them?”

“Kelsey, I know you better than anyone else. You thrive on the challenge of turning public opinion around. You wouldn’t have flown here on a moment’s notice and come to this party if you hadn’t already committed, in your own mind, to helping me out. Name your price.”

“Damn you T.S., you think you have me all figured out, don’t you? You have to know how tough this is for me, and yes I really do want to help you, but…”

“Look, how about we do this on a trial basis for say the first week? Meet Maverick, set up a few strategy sessions and see how it works out? I’ll pay you a retainer fee until you decide to sign a contract. And to sweeten the deal, if this goes well, I have an opening for Vice President of Communications I need to fill.”

“What? All this time you’ve been holding that tidbit of information back from me? How could she turn him down now? He was talking more than a short-term job. VP of anything with a major baseball organization would mean she would no longer need to convince potential clients she was the best even though she was. She would have a set schedule, guaranteed income and most importantly—stability.

She had a “Yes” on the tip of her tongue when he walked in the room.

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CHAPTER 3

Maverick strode into the resort’s penthouse with a measured gait and a hooded glare. It may have been due to his reluctance to make an appearance tonight, but Kelsey guessed it had more to do with one too many drinks consumed.

“Well, speak of the devil. Your favorite trouble maker just arrived.” Kelsey said. She noted the pitcher’s shoulders were thrust back, his arms held tight against his body. Hmmm.

“And, he doesn’t look too happy to be here.” She murmured.

But he did look determined and movie star gorgeous. She noted he cleaned up rather well, wearing a midnight blue evening jacket that showed off his broad shoulders to perfection.

His thick, dirty blonde hair went from buzz cut to wavy locks brushing his shoulders and back again depending on his mood. She’d read that if he was on a winning streak, he refused to cut his hair.

Much like Sampson, he sometimes considered his pitching strength was directly tied to his hair. He once told a reporter about this superstition. The public ate it up and now the diehard fans wore blonde wigs to the home games. She wondered if that would carry over to their new hometown.

“I was thinking we’d give him a few moments to settle into the room. I’ll go get us a fresh drink.” T.S. left her side.

She barely registered his comment. She was too busy sizing up her new project and admiring his…form.

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If the rumors she heard were true, Maverick’s new best friend was a bottle of whiskey.

Which might explain his rigid posture tonight. Was he working off a bender? She noted he arrived solo, which was, according to the tabloids, out of character for him. His last relationship had been splashed all over social media. The ballplayer and the stripper. I’m sure his parents were so proud, Kelsey thought.

She didn’t feel guilt for her quick judgment since evaluating a person’s personality was part of her trade. But she did feel a twinge of sadness for the man who lost his brother in a horrific car accident a few months ago. Few would be hard pressed not to follow his downward spiral.

Kelsey hoped there wasn’t another demon he was fighting because he already came with more baggage than the team on a road trip. Add one more issue and even she would think twice about his chances in repairing his image.

T.S. returned and as she accepted a fresh drink, Maverick caught her eye. His face relaxed into a heart-stopping smile, and unfortunately it was aimed straight at her. His cornflower blue eyes dared her to look away and he continued to gift her with his trademark lady-killer smile.

Lord have mercy, she thought. No wonder women threw themselves at this man.

Maverick held her stare and raked his gaze over her warm face. He made sure she knew he was checking her out and winked.

Not easily seduced, she prided herself on controlling any situation she found herself. And that included dealing with men of any form, stature or reputation. But this man, the ballplayer she was here to ‘save’, held her in thrall as he continued to slowly look down and then back up her now humming body.

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Well, two could play at this game. She made sure she held herself still and controlled her rapid breathing for all she was worth. By the time his eyes settled back on her face, she had created a bored look. She hadn’t earned the nickname “Ice Princess” in college for nothing. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head ever so slightly. His eyes widened at her response.

She needed to appear in control. Confident in her own skin. However, on the inside, she was anything but calm. And Maverick Jansen didn’t need to know he’d grabbed her attention with one wicked smile. No, all that mattered was she appeared unaffected.

Professional.

A heated glance from a handsome man was not going to throw her off her game. She was here to do a job, not flirt with the man she’s supposed to help. Positive he got the message, she turned her attention back to T.S. “Does he know your plan?”

“Not yet. I was going to give him tonight to stew about what I’m going to say. I want to see how he reacts here, in front of the hometown crowd first. See if he can hold it together.

Tomorrow, I’ll drop the bomb.” T.S. answered.

“Not bad. But are you sure that’s the best course? Lulling in your opponent and going for the quick and painless strike doesn’t always work.”

“Hey, it’s my go-to move. How do you think I convinced the USBL to grant me the right to move the team?” Another confident smile from an equally strong opponent.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side.” Kelsey smiled T.S. chuckled. “Kelsey, this is exactly why I need you. Why Maverick needs you. You don’t take any bullshit and I admire that. Always have.”

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Glancing around the room again, the object of their conversation was now leaning up against the bar and chatting up a couple of his buddies and their dates. He was no longer looking her over head to toe, but damn if it’s after effects weren’t still rocking her world.

She took two calming breaths to steady her pounding pulse. She needed to get her libido under control. It wouldn’t do for her to be lusting over the man she was supposed to help.

T.S. looked at Kelsey looking at Maverick while she tried to keep a straight face. “Huh. I would have figured you would react a bit differently.”

Turning her attention back to him, she asked, “How so?”

“He’s a hotshot ball player. Good looks, money. Has a lot going for him despite his current challenges. I guess I would have thought you would have acted, I don’t know. More interested.”

“Really? How interested should I have acted? Especially since you want me to take him on as a client.” She leveled T.S. with her best boardroom glare. He wasn’t the only one who had well-honed tactics. “Besides I wouldn’t be able to do my job if I threw myself at the feet of your star player, now would I?” She answered.

“Guess I stepped into it, huh?”

“You could say so. Even though we haven’t seen each other in a few years, you know me better than that. Assuming I’m going to act like a fawning ball girl, a groupie no less, just because a handsome, mega-star athlete walks into the room is not going to win you my agreement to your job offer.”

“Okay. Then what will?”

Kelsey thought about it and looked over to where Maverick Jansen, Mr. Bad Boy of Baseball, aka Mr. Cutter for his signature pitch, was now standing next to the buffet. Plate in 23 26

hand, listening to the mayor and another member of the city council argue about something baseball related no doubt.

Even though she was across the room from him, she once again noticed a warmth travel down to her belly and lower. Damn, her instant reaction to Maverick was not a good sign.

He looked her way again, and instead of a smile, he gave her a slight nod and turned back to the men arguing next to him. Double damn. He caught her looking. So not good and neither were the naughty thoughts his intense stare stirred in her. She needed some fresh air and quick.

She turned to T.S and named an astronomical figure. One even a billionaire would laugh at. But if he agreed, she could set up her mom someplace nice and she would no longer have to worry about receiving desperate phone calls in the middle of the night.

“No problem...”

Choking on her wine, she blurted out, “Are you insane?”

T.S. reached out and patted her on the back. “Are you alright?”

She nodded and tried to swat his hand away. People didn’t often catch her off guard. Not in her line of work. She took a long, hard look into T.S.’s eyes and saw how stone cold sane and serious he was. “You’re crazy my friend. No one is worth that, even me.”

“Never say that again Kelsey. You’re worth every penny and I’m getting a bargain here, especially if we come to a deal and you take on the VP job. I’m not sure why I didn’t consider you for it before now, but that’ll be our little secret.” T.S. grinned.

He was enjoying this and it’d been a long time since she’d a project she felt this energized over. But she wasn’t letting T.S. off the hook. There was one more thing she required.

“Alright, I accept. But with two caveats. One, if he is totally against this and refuses to do the work needed in the next two weeks, I still receive twenty percent of the figure I quoted.”

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“He won’t, but done. And what’s two?”

“Season tickets.” Kelsey said.

“Okay, but that was going to be part of the deal anyway...”

“For life.” She set down her wine glass and walked towards the hallway leading to the ladies room. She looked over her shoulder, grinned and said, “To the Seattle Authority. They’re my favorite USBL team.”

***

“Hey, Mav. Glad to see you made it. Wasn’t sure...” Brock Cameron, the freshly signed rookie short-stop spoke to Maverick as he walked up to his team mates already at the charity event.

“You wish.” Maverick interrupted. “Someone’s got to keep the ball girls happy.” Mav held up two fingers to the bartender. “Whiskey, straight up.”

Off to Luke’s side, Syndi, Luke’s latest, piped in. “Hi Maverick.” Her voice reminded him of a twelve-year-old girl’s, always so damn high. Mav was instantly annoyed each time she spoke to him. The worst part was, she was only using his buddy, to grab onto someone bigger in the league. Someone with a healthier bank account and probably Hollywood connections.

Maverick decided a long time ago poaching his teammate’s women wasn’t worth the drama, no matter the bra size. Besides in his experience, the larger the cup size, the lower the I.Q. and he was past the age where he could put up with endless chatter about what the Kardashians were wearing this week or who they were dating or divorcing.

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Side-stepping Syndi’s initial move to engage him, Maverick nodded at her and turned back to the bar. He grabbed his whiskey and tossed it back. Damn, only top shelf for T.S. Scott.

Maybe this owner wouldn’t be such a straight-laced prick like the previous one.

He’d had his fill of the former owner, Billy Jack McGraw’s glory day speeches. The clueless owner only saw his players as cattle, not talent. Always looking for the brass ring over ability and buying out ridiculous contracts of players beyond their prime, to cash in on the name recognition.

When they lost the division, the former owner wanted out. Enter Thomas Scott, who despite his own hare-brained idea to set up the team in Pineville, Idaho, he actually cared that the team had a winning season, not just making money.

T.S. had the money alright, and he wanted the trophy. T.S. had played college ball but never made it to the big league. Maverick had to hand it to the guy, his love for the game shone through at the player’s meeting when he’d introduced himself. Of course that was before he dropped the bomb that he gained the league’s okay to move the club. Now the team was split on whether the new owner was a step up from crazy Billy Jack McGraw or a fucking genius.

Currently, the hometown golden-boy in question was working hard on impressing the knock-out Maverick had slammed eyes with moments ago. Something about her obvious disinterest nagged him. But he also saw a flash of challenge in her eyes. Maybe it was interest.

Hell, maybe he was hoping it was.

It had always been easy for Maverick to woo women. He’d perfected his approach in college and found a slow smile and leisurely body check was his key to an instant introduction.

Not this one though. Glancing again at the woman who was occupying all of his thoughts, he wondered if she realized how her ice queen persona was a turn-on.

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She seemed above his notice when he’d walked into the room and only paused on him because he made it pretty clear where his thoughts were. Or so he thought. Damn, he loved a challenge and it had been a long time since he had that instant physical reaction to a woman.

Now was a hell of a time to be battling a hard on in the midst of a charity function full of the town’s politicos and mucky-mucks. He shifted a bit adjusting himself and caught a glimpse of Syndi out of the corner of his eye. He sensed the heat of the stare coming from the ball girl burning his back. Shit.

There was a time he reveled in the non-stop attention from women and not once did he think he’d feel any different, until Reno. After the fiasco with the stripper he hooked up with while he’d been trying to resurrect his libido.

Embarrassed was too tame a word for what he felt and he’d had to pay her off to keep his inability to perform a secret. His sex life and his pitching hadn’t been the same since Connor’s death, but maybe one of them was showing signs of life again.

He tried catching the dark-haired beauty’s eye again as he strolled through the room away from the buffet. Not a true redhead, her dark auburn hair was swept to one side. Inexplicably, he itched to get his hands in its masses and on her curvy body.

He watched her move dramatically while she responded to something T.S. had said.

Damn, he wanted to be on the receiving end of all that passion. Her curves, encased in a dark green business suit were more of a turn on to him than the other women in the room wearing tight fitting mini’s and blinged-out halter tops.

So deep in conversation with T.S. she seemed oblivious to anyone else. He thought better of pursuing her, for now. In the past, he always acted before he thought and the video he

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currently starred in proved how much he needed to start thinking before he acted and ended up on the wrong side of public opinion—again.

He placed his untouched food down and disengaged himself from the argument the mayor and some other guy were having about the year old instant play rule and made his way to the windows overlooking Coeur d’Alene Lake.

He considered his options on how to approach T.S. and the mystery woman he was chatting up. Was she an acquaintance, girlfriend or maybe she was a member of the city council here to schmooze him and the players? Whichever, he had to find out before the evening ended.

Maverick focused on the glowing sun setting on the lake. The entire area was glowing in pinks and oranges and couples strolled on the floating boardwalk, in no particular hurry.

He envied them and took in the moment. The constant noise and self-doubt spinning like an out of control record in his head — now muted.

And for the first time in a long time Maverick felt calm. Maybe this town and its simpler life would ground him, get him back to the place he needed to be. At the top of his game and away from all the distractions of parties every night and the groupies who never gave up in their pursuit of an athlete to bed.

He glanced a bit further out and noticed the water mirroring the boats still cruising lazily, splashing their profiles across the surface. Yeah, he could probably get used to this.

Maverick heard a laugh from across the crowded space and turned back toward the main room. Somehow he knew it was her. A throaty, come-and-get-me-laugh. It grabbed him around his cock and held on. And like that, he was hard again.

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What was it about this woman that his body had such an instant reaction to? He hadn’t even talked to her. Touched her. He needed to find out and fast before he embarrassed himself in front of everyone.

He watched as she walked away from T.S. She tossed the team owner a look over her shoulder that could have been an invitation, but it could have been a “so there, take that” exit. He was hoping it was the latter.

Screw it. He was not going to let this opportunity get away from him. But the last thing he needed to add to his long list of problems was to hit on the owner’s girlfriend.

*** Kelsey thought she could make a smooth exit after her last comment to T.S., but no, luck was not on her side tonight. He caught up with her within a few steps from the exit and called her name. She stopped and when she turned around it wasn’t T.S. she noticed, even though he was within touching distance. It was Maverick Jansen. And he seemed to be making a beeline for her.

She glanced around the room to see if she missed something. Maybe everyone was looking at her for some unknown reason.

No. Everyone else seemed focused on their own conversations. Except the short, stacked blonde at the bar who only had eyes for Maverick. An ex, maybe?

T.S. began speaking to her, but she didn’t hear a word he said. The star pitcher had almost reached them. His intense gaze zeroed in on her, almost daring her to look away.

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His broad shoulders and arms were well defined in his tailored suit. Just enough muscle to make a woman crave to be held in them. His large tapered hands were perfect for his chosen profession. It made her wonder what else they could do.

Kelsey had kept Maverick in her peripheral vision since he’d walked in the room. There was no denying he held her interest on a purely feminine level, but that would be as far as she could let it go.

A flutter in her breast surprised her. A few sultry glances were not going to make her crumble. So she took the coward’s way out. She told T.S. she’d be right back and made a beeline for the ladies room.

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66

Chapter One Chelsea and Avery. That’s what the whiteboard on the door said. Only “Chelsea” had been wiped out and rewritten in large looping lettering and dotted with tiny stars. I stood in the hallway, grasping the handle of my bag like it might make a run for it.

The room was small. No—tiny. Like it had once been a single and they’d converted it into a double. There was no way I was going to survive an entire eight months confined in there with another person. I was an only child.

As I debated whether to cut and run, the bathroom door opened behind me, and a tall brunette wearing only skinny jeans and a black lacy bra passed into our room.

“You’re super late.”

“I’m Avery,” I said to her retreating back.

“Yeah.” She didn’t spare a glance over her shoulder. “I know.”

I followed her into the room. Definitely a converted single. The beds were maybe a foot apart and separated by a shared night table, which looked worse for wear after being jammed into the small space.

Chelsea had already claimed the side of the room farthest from the door and above her bed was a huge framed photo of a ballerina bent forward in a typical ballet pose: arms out to the side and one leg stretched behind her. It took me a moment to realize the ballerina was Chelsea. She was long and lean with her dark hair tied tightly in a bun and in stark contrast to her white tutu and camisole. Her face was covered in makeup, her cheekbones severe, her eyebrows thick. On anyone else they would beg to

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be waxed, but on her they somehow worked. She frowned at me with them now as she took me in.

“Are you sure you’re supposed to be here?” she asked. “You look like you’re twelve.”

Yeah, I got that a lot. Midsummer I’d tried the whole ombre look, bleaching my mousy hair blonder as it neared the tips, but I still barely cleared five feet and had baby fat on my cheeks.

“I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks.”

Chelsea sniffed “I’ve seen worse. The girls I danced with were skinnier than you and almost always bulimic. They never got caught, but they couldn’t hide the acne.”

Wow, this girl was blunt bordering on sociopathic. Lucky me.

“I’m nineteen.” The way she said it, I knew she’d assumed some sort of roommate superiority over me. “I took a year off to attend dance academy.”

“Why didn’t you stay there?”

“It was too competitive.” Turned-up nose sniff. “Besides, I want a career. I’m going to be a lawyer. So why are you so late getting here?”

“I almost didn’t come at all.” I sat down on my bed. It was rock hard. “Did I miss anything?”

“Only the Best. Party. Ever.”

“Cool.” It was hard not to look at the photograph, which was as long as her bed and kind of encompassed my whole view. How had she even managed to get it in here?

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“It was cray. All the freshmen in residence were there. Started in the Monet building and then moved to the pyramid, and campus cops had to kick us out. Too bad you missed it.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you party?”

“Sometimes.”

“Good. I don’t want a lame roommate.” Noticing where I was looking, she said, “That was The Nutcracker. I thought we should limit what we put on our walls to one item each. Otherwise the room will look crowded.”

Tearing my gaze away, I said, “Don’t worry, I didn’t bring anything to put up.”

“That’ll look weird too. You should get something at the poster sale. The bed comforters are mine, by the way. I bought a twin set so our beds would match.”

Of course she had. Not for the first time, I mentally kicked myself for not taking advantage of my father’s generosity and upgrading to a single room.

Chelsea’s cell tweeted and when she lunged for it, I turned my back on her to unpack. Even though her buying us matching purple comforters was presumptuous at best, I was secretly kind of glad—all I’d brought was clothes and sheets. That, and a framed photograph of Mom, which I placed on the night table beside the bed.

My stomach twisted painfully.

I used to joke that Mom got separation anxiety after six hours apart. I’d never worked a full shift without receiving at least one text message asking how I was doing.

Then in an instant, my entire world had changed. Gone were the daily text messages.

Gone were nights on the porch chatting after I arrived home from work. Her bedroom

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looked the exact same as she’d left it: bed made, clothes neatly put away, cosmetic products cluttering the vanity. Wandering around the house, I could almost convince myself that she was out and would walk through the door any minute.

For most of my life it had just been the two of us, so I was more than surprised when my father showed up to help. Dad was more like a figurehead father, a distant member of the family who swooped into my life every once in a while with a birthday gift or a visit while on a business trip, and his phone calls were inconsistent and infrequent. When he heard about Mom, however, he’d dropped everything to fly across the country to me. Over the three days I’d moved through life like a zombie, he’d helped me with funeral arrangements, tidied the house, bought me new clothes and even transferred enough money to my account to pay a year’s tuition.

A month later, when I was about to give up my spot at college, he’d convinced me that holding off my life was the last thing Mom would have wanted. It was the closest I’d ever felt to him.

There was a quick rap on the door frame, and I turned to see a curvy girl leaning against it, her hands shoved into the back pockets of her short jean shorts. She was stunning with a shiny black mane past her waist, wide eyes ringed heavily with liner and puffy red lips.

“Oh hey, you must be Avery,” she said. “I’m Jin. Are you coming too?”

“Um, to what?” I looked at Chelsea, who glanced up from her phone to roll her eyes.

“Jin’s dragging me to this stupid games thing because our RA is going to be there.”

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“RA?” “Resident Adviser. Every building has one.”

“What exactly does a resident adviser do?” I asked, looking between them. “Make sure we don’t get into trouble or something?”

Jin snorted. “Declan is trouble.”

The two girls exchanged glances and giggled.

“He planned these icebreaker games with the other RAs so we can all get to know each other,” Chelsea explained, “but Jin only wants to get to know him.”

“Yeah, like you wouldn’t jump him if given the chance.”

“I’ve seen hotter.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

I laughed. “Okay, I’ll come. I’ll just change into . . .” I pulled out a pair of workout shorts and held them up.

Jin made a face. “I don’t think he meant running games. As in, sports.”

Man, she was so wrong.

When we arrived at the quad, an Ultimate Frisbee course had been set up and a group of guys were kicking around a soccer ball. A large sign written in colorful markers read Residence Hunger Games, and beside it stood a chart depicting a setup like a tournament.

“I’m not running,” Chelsea said and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

A loud screech had everyone covering his or her ears, and then an apology came over the loudspeaker. A female voice welcomed us and something about getting your name checked off the list if you haven’t already. I followed Chelsea and Jin past tents

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with dorm names taped to their poles. Fire, Air, Earth and Water. Degas, Renoir, Manet and Monet. Raven, Eagle, Hawk and Crow.

A large guy in front of me shifted, giving me a view inside the tent, and that’s when I saw him.

I had to blink to make sure he was actually there. I’d never seen such a goodlooking person in the flesh before. I didn’t usually think guys my age were cute, but this one . . . he was something else. A blonde chick with a ponytail was leaning close to him in the booth and whispering in his ear. Standing there watching him throw his head back in laughter, I had the sensation I was on a movie set looking at Hollywood’s rather hopeful version of college guys. He had dark wavy hair that was slightly longer on top, eyes such a brilliant blue I could see them from here, and perfect straight teeth that he flashed when he grinned at the chick. And his grin was large and real and belonged in a magazine.

Leaning back in his chair, he stretched his arms above his head and his sweatshirt rode up, revealing a taut stomach. I had to consciously resist licking my lips. If he looked this good in a sweatshirt, what did he look like in a tight shirt, one that accentuated his biceps and chest? Or better yet . . .

I was staring.

He gave ponytail chick a high five and at that exact moment, a group of girls crowded in front of me.

“Form two lines,” she was saying, “so we can hand out your jerseys.”

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Every female was in hot guy’s line, including Jin and Chelsea. It was four times as long as ponytail chick’s line. Male students kept joining the short one, shaking their heads at the stupidity as they quickly grabbed a jersey and walked away.

I decided to not be stupid and got in the short line. When I got to the front, however, blonde’s phone went off and she turned to him and said, “I’ve gotta take this.

Can you manage both lines for a bit?” Then she took off.

Hot guy lazily shifted toward me with his eyes on a piece of paper in front of him.

On the table was a box filled with various colored jerseys.

“What’s your name?” he asked, not looking up.

“Avery.”

“Hello, Avery. I need your last name.” Still not looking up.

“Oh. Right.” I flushed. “Edwards. What are we playing?”

“Capture the flag. Edwards . . .” He trailed a finger down the list. “Here you are.

You’re in my building.”

“Cool,” I managed to say, my voice cracking on the word. I flushed even darker.

He glanced up then, looking at me for the first time, and a coal brow arched. For a second he just stared. Then he leaned over the table and looked me up and down. The side of his mouth tipped up.

“I’ll put you on Team Blue.”

“What team are you on?” I asked, suspecting I’d just been insulted.

His smile tipped higher as he leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. “The other one.”

“But I’m in your building.”

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“You’re a quick one. At least I hope you are—for your sake.”

I glared at him and snatched the blue jersey. Jackass.

He chuckled as I stormed away. “Catch you later.”

Seething, I wandered around for a while until I found Chelsea and Jin under the shade of a tree sipping orange juice out of tiny cups. Jin frowned as she watched me approach.

“Why are you in blue? I thought our building is on the red team.”

“Because of that jerk.” Gritting my teeth, I motioned with my head at the gorgeous asshole under the tent. My face instantly heated when I saw he was watching.

He gave me a wink.

Jin giggled and took my arm in hers, steered me away. “Shh, that’s him. That’s Declan.”

“That’s the guy you like? But he’s an ass.”

“A hot ass.” A knowing smile broke out over Jin’s face as her eyes flicked to Chelsea and then back to me. “You missed a lot last night. We should show you.”

“You’ll probably traumatize her,” Chelsea muttered. “She’s a virgin for sure.”

Jin laughed and I did too, hoping I didn’t look as sick as I felt. Because my high school boyfriend was an asshole and our first time was only one of the bad memories I would carry for the rest of my life. In fact it was the start of something much worse between us.

Jin steered me off the path behind some bushes and then pulled out her cell. After a quick glance left and right, she opened a video and passed it to me. The video was dark

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and the hand filming it was shaky, so it was hard to see what was happening at first. It took me a moment to realize they were in a stairwell.

I couldn’t see much of the girl, only her bare legs ending in heels wrapped around his waist and a thin hand in his hair. His body pretty much eclipsed her, a solid wall of rippling back muscles. His black T-shirt was tucked into the back pocket of his jeans.

One hand was planted on the concrete above her head and the other was holding her up.

He was . . . moving.

My voice came out as a squeak. “This is our RA?” “Declan Hargrove.”

“Wow.” I was torn between feeling embarrassed and intrigued. Also guilty, like we were invading a very private part of his life, which I guess we were.

But I couldn’t look away.

He was seriously hot, and from the back as well. And the woman seemed to be enjoying herself immensely—the sounds were evidence enough. My gaze traveled over the muscles in his back to the line of boxers above his jeans. It wasn’t until the video ended that I could breathe again. I quickly handed the phone back to Jin. “Yeah, that’s pretty much everyone’s reaction.” She grinned.

“Everyone as in?”

“Basically the whole campus,” Chelsea said, studying her nails. “Someone posted the video and it’s been spreading like wildfire.”

The whole campus. I closed my eyes briefly and saw his naked back against my eyelids. “He must be mortified.”

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“Not really. He doesn’t seem fazed by it at all. It’s like two seconds long. You can’t really see anything.”

“And he looks sexy,” Jin pointed out. “I mean, really fuckable. Like I wish I were that girl.”

I swallowed hard. I knew what she meant. The idea of him being caught on video should have revolted me, but instead it was having the opposite effect.

“You can find the video on his fan page. ‘Declan’s Bitches.’ Seriously, he has a fan page. A student made it last year.”

I instantly bristled at the name. “I’m surprised he wasn’t fired.”

Chelsea shrugged. “It’s not good enough quality to prove anything, but we all know it’s him. If anything it just made him more popular.”

“Who’s the girl?”

“No one knows.”

Well, that was a relief. Stupid move to have sex in a stairwell, but it wasn’t like she’d wanted to get filmed. No one deserved to have his or her private life sent around campus like some sort of social media phenomenon.

“Declan left the party early that night and he was alone,” Jin continued, “so it could be anyone. Even one of his students.”

How cliché. I snuck a glance at Declan again. He was sitting back in his chair with his hands folded behind his head talking to his buddies. The blonde chick was now perched on his lap.

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There was a warning yell as a Frisbee came whipping through the air toward Chelsea. She squealed and jumped out of the way, and I slapped a hand down on either side of it.

A tall tanned guy with gray eyes and disheveled blond curls came jogging up, a sheepish grin on his face. “Sorry about that. Good catch though.”

“Thanks,” I said and handed it back to him. He was well over six feet tall and I had to crane my neck to look up at him.

“I’m Jeremy. Jer.” “Avery.”

He smiled and flipped the Frisbee between his hands as he spoke. “And where are you from, Avery?”

“Spokane. You?” “Tampa, Florida. What brings you to Westport?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jin link her arm through Chelsea’s and pull her away. I widened my eyes to signal not to leave me, but she just grinned and kept walking.

So I turned back to Jeremy, who really was cute. I just had no interest in meeting guys.

“Just wanted to be close to the ocean,” I said lamely.

“And I guess I swapped oceans.” He grinned, his teeth white against his tanned skin. “What building are you in?”

“Bird complex. Raven.”

“Awesome, me too.”

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The microphone boomed suddenly, startling both of us and making us laugh. The voice came over the loudspeaker again and announced we should follow our RAs to the east side of campus. I said a quick good-bye to Jer and ducked into the now moving crowd to find Jin and Chelsea.

At the edge of campus there was a field that ran into a small forest, the trees climbing the hill behind it. Declan lithely jumped onto a rock and his fellow RAs in blue sweatshirts gathered around him.

“We’ll be playing capture the flag,” he announced, grinning out over the crowd.

He looked completely at ease with himself, almost as if he enjoyed the attention. “I’m sure you’ve all played before, but in case you forget, the object of the game is to get the other team’s flag. Teams are Raven and Hawk versus Eagle and Crow. Raven and Hawk will go north, and Eagle and Crow will go south.”

Jin pouted at me. “You should be with us.”

I bit my lip, feeling stupid. “Pretty sure he looked at me and decided he didn’t want me on your team.”

“You are pretty small,” Chelsea reminded me.

Declan pulled another RA onto the rock beside him, held her around the waist to keep her up. Her cheeks turned slightly pink as she looked away from him to address the crowd.

“We’ve set up boundaries with neon tape. The area in the middle is neutral. If you get tagged in the opposite team’s territory, you must go to jail. Teammates can free you from jail by tagging your hand. The team that captures the flag and brings it back to their own side first wins.”

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“Each team has ten minutes to hide their flag,” Declan continued. “When you’ve hidden it, sound your horn. Once both horns have sounded, the game begins. Play nice everyone!” He grinned, his bright blue eyes falling on me.

A horn blasted and nervous excitement filled the air. Then I was following the blue crowd into the south side of the forest. The RAs of Eagle and Crow had designated themselves leaders and were heading for the southernmost side of the forest where they planned to hide the flag on a branch low enough for the tiniest player to reach but where the leaves could provide some camouflage. Doubtful, considering it was neon orange, but whatever.

“I’m Jewel and this is Matt. I’m RA of Eagle and Matt’s Crow. Who considers themselves fast runners? Put up your hands.”

A smattering of hands went up, including mine. I was fast. And screw Declan for thinking I wasn’t good or fast enough to be on his team. I was going to capture that flag and wave it in his smug face.

“You’ll be runners. Your job is to capture the flag and free the captives. Who wants to guard the jail?”

The two largest guys and some girls put their hands up. None of them looked stoked about the idea of running. One guy was already sweating and a girl was wearing a tiny jean skirt.

They then formulated a game plan involving offensive and defensive runners but I kind of zoned out, my only thought on getting that flag. I wasn’t even sure if they’d put me on the offensive, but that’s where I was going to be.

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Matt sounded the horn to confirm that we’d hidden our flag. Half a minute later we heard the second horn, and the game was in play.

I took off north, dodging between trees, jumping over roots of trees. The air was humid here. Cool. Trees shot skyward, tall and thick, and the smell of pine was in the air.

When was the last time I’d been on a run? Before the start of summer. I’d missed this. I’d missed the wind whipping through my hair, the sensation of leaving the rest of the world behind. I tilted my head back slightly to gaze at the rolling clouds, and a memory jolted through me: hiking with my mother, a bear bell on my backpack and a dark cloud in the horizon. We ran down the mountain that day, afraid of getting caught in a thunderstorm.

Mom grasping the back of my pack on a steep decline. I thought of lightning and electrocution, not bears.

Behind me I heard a yell and then the thudding of distant footsteps on the forest floor. I ducked behind a fallen tree before two guys raced past not ten feet from me. That was too close. I was fast, but I wouldn’t be able to outrun a six-foot guy. I’d need to carefully make my way north, hiding when needed.

When I felt it was safe again, I came out from behind the tree and started jogging.

The forest was quiet except for the sound of my sneakers on the fallen pine needles and the squirrels rustling above me.

I wasn’t entirely sure how I knew I was being followed, only that the air seemed to shift. I sensed it the way a deer might sense the barrel of a gun.

Sucking in a breath, I gathered everything in me and ran at full speed. I leaped over fallen branches, twisted through trees, the wind beating in my ears. The footsteps behind me intensified and I knew my pursuer was running too. They grew closer, louder,

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so I pushed harder, knowing in my gut it was futile, that it was only a matter of time before I gave in. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I could practically feel the fingers reaching behind me, mere inches away from my bare neck and still reaching, stretching, aching to tag me . . .

Then my toe snagged a root, and I bailed. A heavy weight slammed into me and I hit the ground hard, my hip taking most of the impact, a larger body falling with me but miraculously not crushing me.

“Shit!” Strong hands rolled me over.

Sunlight streaming through the tops of the trees silhouetted the face above me. I tried to push up but a hand on my shoulder held me down.

“Don’t move, Avery.”

I tensed. It was a guy, and he knew me.

Ignoring the warning, I moved my head slightly and my view shifted. Now I could see him, that dark hair across his forehead and those impossibly blue eyes filled with worry. Declan Hargrove was squatting beside me, one hand on my shoulder and the other on my left thigh. He was wearing the tight shirt I’d imagined and it did accentuate his biceps and chest.

I was winded. It took me a moment to catch my breath enough to croak, “You’re heavy.”

“Shit,” he repeated, thrusting a hand through his hair. “You tripped and I didn’t have time to stop. I tried to brace myself. Are you hurt?”

“I don’t know yet,” I muttered, struggling to sit up.

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“Seriously, don’t move.” His hands went to my shoulders, easing me back down.

“Just take it easy for a minute. Catch your breath.”

“I guess you were right,” I muttered. I felt my sore hip and winced. “I do suck at this.”

He frowned as he knocked my hand away from my hip. “What’re you talking about?”

“You didn’t want me on your team.”

“Is that what you thought?” He grinned down at me. “The other team had less players so I needed to give them some. Besides,” his gaze moved to my mouth, his eyes darkening, “I wanted to catch you.”

I inhaled harshly, my heartbeat ratcheting up a few levels. Declan was still looking at my lips. As he did so, his tongue licked his own bottom lip, wetting it.

I stood up quickly, forcing him to sit back on his haunches.

“Whoa, take it easy,” he said, standing to meet me. “I was on top of you a second ago.”

I coughed in embarrassment and he chuckled.

“Declan!”

I pivoted to look in the direction of the voice and saw the girl from the booth approaching. She stopped in front of us, running on the spot with her ponytail bouncing.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, “but Avery had a bad fall. I’ll walk her back to campus and make sure she’s not hurt.”

“I’m not,” I said quickly. “Really.”

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“I think we should take a break,” Declan said, giving me a look I didn’t understand. “I’ll buy you a coffee.”

The girl’s mouth fell open. She quickly closed it, shooting me a deadly look before jogging back into the forest.

“I’d rather keep playing,” I told Declan.

His brows shot up like he hadn’t expected that response. “I’m your RA and I’m studying pre-med. It would be irresponsible of me to let you play again.”

Now I was just annoyed. Sure, I wouldn’t exactly say I’d been having fun, but I wasn’t a cheater either.

“Thank you for your recommendation, Doctor, but you don’t need to use me as an excuse to quit. What, is your team losing or something?”

Declan’s jaw clenched but he shrugged, brushing dirt off his forearms where he’d braced his fall. “Fine, we can play by the rules. In that case I caught you . . .” He glanced up, his expression turning smug, “. . . which makes you my prisoner.”

“Fine.”

He reached for my arm but I shook it off.

“I can go willingly. I’m not actually your prisoner.”

Grinning, Declan headed into the trees, making idle chitchat the entire way like he didn’t care who heard us, which made sense considering he had immunity while escorting a prisoner. He didn’t seem to care that I wasn’t responding either.

“Here you go,” he announced cheerfully as we arrived at the jail. Squirrellylooking students wearing blue jerseys stood as close to the edges of the circle as possible,

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waiting for someone to tag and free them. Chelsea and Jin were acting as two of the guards, most likely happy to have a job that didn’t require running.

“Take extra care of this one,” he told them with a wink. “She’s feisty.”

Then he jogged back into the forest.

Jin’s mouth fell open. “Was he flirting with you?”

“He flirts with everyone,” Chelsea said, rolling her eyes. “He doesn’t even like her, remember? He put her on the opposite team.”

I opened my mouth to explain what he’d said about wanting to catch me, but then realized how stupid it sounded. She’d just say he’d tricked me with a line.

It took me forever to escape—mostly because Chelsea was on me like a fat kid on a cupcake. Every time a team member rushed forward to save one of us, she was beside me, so I watched multiple people escape before I had my chance. It was when a group of people rushed the jail that I was finally able to go free. The rule was a thirty-second head start, so we took off into the forest, scattering quickly in case anyone bothered to follow us.

There was a commotion a bit farther west, and I knew members of my team must have spotted the other team’s flag. It was only a matter of time now until ours was spotted too—if it hadn’t happened already. I cut west all the way to the boundary, hoping to come around the edge and end up north of the jail. The field sloped gently into a hill and I crouched through the long grass, low enough to stay hidden. From this vantage point on the hill I could see everyone else, but they couldn’t see me. It was perfect. The

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rival flag was in a tree like ours, a bright yellow spot in the V of a low branch. I watched a member of my team make a run for it, only to have two people jump him, one on each side. Another girl tried it with the same result. A large group was hovering around the flag now, ready to pick off anyone who tried. But their numbers were dwindling—each person they caught had to be accompanied to jail.

Jer emerged from the trees, joining the hoverers and scanning the trees for anyone that might make a break for it. I ducked lower. When I risked a peek over the grass, he was looking in the other direction. I crept closer and closer, moving behind trees until I was close enough that I could reach the flag when I had a chance. Then I crouched and waited, adrenaline pumping. Now I remembered why kids played tag—it was a rush.

Maybe because I was determined to win. I just needed to wait for the perfect moment.

Squatting in the long, dry grass, I waited. And waited.

Then it came. In a matter of seconds all of the hoverers were occupied or leaving for jail besides Jer. Matt came barreling out of the trees with a war cry and Jer darted after him, hot on his trail. I seized the moment.

Breaking into a sprint, I went at the flag from the opposite side. I didn’t look at Jer or Matt. I didn’t look at anything but the flag. As I drew closer and the guys did too, I saw multiple things in a matter of seconds.

First I saw Matt reach for the flag. His fingers were mere inches away.

Next I saw Jer reach for Matt, a determined look on his face.

Third I saw Jer’s fingers grasp Matt’s shirt. His expression changed from determination to relief . . . and then his mouth literally fell open.

I came to a stop in front of them, the flag in my hand.

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For a second there was a shocked silence. Then Matt yanked free of Jer’s grip and yelled, “Run!” I ran.

I thought I’d been running at top speed before, but this was different—this was desperation. I had the flag. I could win. I had to win. The trees blended together as I raced through them, aware of people on all sides of me, some getting closer, others getting in their way, all of them yelling. In a shitty and unjust world I would have tripped again, but I didn’t.

I could see the neon line now. This was it. Five steps. Four steps. Three steps . . .

Declan leaped into the middle of my path. I was a foot away from him and tilting full speed, but somehow I managed to duck and spin, stepping over the line just before his hand grazed my lower back.

There was a loud cheer and then a guy lifted me onto his shoulders, yelling at the top of his lungs that the game was over. People emerged from the trees, half of them cheering and the other half looking flat out annoyed by the spectacle in front of them.

I waved the flag over my head. As the guy spun us around, my eyes met Declan’s, and I couldn’t help it—my expression turned triumphant.

He gave me a nod, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile.

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Chapter Two “It’s kind of weird to have a picture of your mom in your dorm,” Chelsea pointed out when we got back. “I mean, it’s pretty lame.”

I froze on my way to the bathroom. “She passed away,” I said.

Alone in a stall I leaned against the closed door and covered my face with my hands. But I didn’t cry. I hadn’t cried once since I found out. How messed up was that?

Losing Mom was like losing a part of myself, yet I hadn’t shed a tear.

This last week had been like a dream—a terrible, messed-up dream I’d never wake up from. Every time I managed to forget, the reality came rushing back, stabbing an already fresh wound. And adding to that wound was my own guilt.

She was a single mom for sixteen years, so to call her overprotective was the understatement of the century. Not surprisingly my decision to attend a college on the opposite side of Washington in the fall had us fighting all summer. I tried to explain it wasn’t some act of rebellion, that I needed to self-actualize and all that, but neither of those were the truth. I was running.

Today had been fun. Playing that game, I’d actually been able to forget and feel like everyone else: a freshman student new on campus with her whole life ahead of her. It was kind of difficult starting out in a new city and trying to make friends when all I wanted to do was climb under a blanket and hide away from the world, or yell at everyone, namely Chelsea. But she was going to be my roommate for an entire eight months. The last thing I needed was to make an enemy.

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When I returned to our room it was empty, but Chelsea was still staring down at me from the wall. I spent the next half hour unpacking and then headed over to the campus bookstore to pick up my textbooks. I was taking a class in every department because I still had no idea what I wanted to study. The bookstore was nothing like I’d imagined—it was like Barnes and Noble and Staples had a love child with some university clothing thrown in. The notebooks and pens were way more expensive than elsewhere, but the convenience factor won me over and I stocked up.

Merchandise was on the top level and books were on the lower level, organized first by course and then professor. I easily found what I was looking for and then settled in an armchair in the attached café to flip through them. It was nice to spend some time away from my room and remind myself why I was here.

An hour or so later, I returned to the bird complex—a cement courtyard squared in by cement buildings that looked more like bunkers. I hadn’t noticed it before, but everything looked permanent and unbreakable. Gray. Cement benches were set against hardy green bushes that lined the front of the buildings, providing the only color in the area besides the students hanging around.

As I jiggled the keys in my lock, a head popped out of the room at the end of the hall, all smiles.

“Avery, right? We were wondering when you’d arrive. I’m Raina.”

Raina stood half a foot taller than me with olive skin and beach-blond hair and multiple piercings in each ear. She nudged a longboard into the hallway with her toe before stepping out and locking the door behind her. She was wearing flower-patterned shorts and a white tank top and looked like she belonged in California.

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“Did you go to that games thing?” I asked.

She laughed a little. “No man, I hate icebreakers. They’re awkward.”

“We didn’t win. Fire did.”

“Darn,” she said with mock disappointment. “I’ll probably go to the lounge party though. Jer’s taking drink orders.” She got on the longboard and began rocking her hips, moving the board back and forth, back and forth, on the carpet. “Declan knows but isn’t going to stop it if we’re responsible and keep it in the lounge. He’s pretty cool.”

I shifted my bag of textbooks to my other hand.

“Hot too,” she said “Everyone says that.”

“Don’t you think?” She was looking at me like I was crazy.

I shrugged. “I guess so.”

She stopped rocking suddenly and glanced around as if to make sure no one was listening. The tops of her cheeks turned pink as she leaned down to whisper, “Have you seen the video?”

“Um, yeah.” My cheeks warmed to match hers. “Chelsea and Jin showed it to me.”

“And?” “It was . . . crazy.”

“I know, right? The girls in our building can barely look at him.”

“How did Declan react?”

She smiled. “Totally cool. Like he didn’t even notice or was used to it. I’m guessing girls have always acted that way around him.”

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Probably. I felt that familiar aspect of my personality emerge, the one that didn’t want to do anything that was too popular or cool. Was it because all the girls liked him that I didn’t ? Or was it because he was an arrogant flirt who tried to take girls on coffee dates the day after being featured in a sex tape?

I was leaning toward option B. “And no one, you know, calls him out on it?” I asked.

Her eyes widened. “No way, man. The guys are scared of him and the girls want to be with him. Most of them have it downloaded for personal use,” she added with a giggle.

That last bit was kind of creepy.

“The rest of the complex hates us because we get to stare at his face every week.”

I must have looked confused because she added, “On Sunday evenings he holds a dorm meeting and tells us about upcoming events. That sort of thing. I normally wouldn’t go, but yeah, the hot thing.”

Chelsea came into the hall then, the stairwell door banging closed behind her.

“Hey Chelsea,” Raina said, rocking again. “You going to the party tonight?”

Chelsea hesitated, her dark eyes flicking to me. “Yeah. I just gave them my drink order,” she responded and walked past me into our room.

Raina turned back to me, smiling wider. “It’s official then—you’re coming. What do you want? I’ll tell Jer on my way out.”

“Um . . .” I hesitated. I’d been to a few keg parties in high school but didn’t have good memories from any of them. Last time I’d branched out, I’d gotten drunk on one of those super sugary cherry coolers. I’d puked and literally seen red. I didn’t want to go

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through that again, so I went for the boring pick and asked for beer, searching my wallet for a ten.

“Sweet. See you tonight!” Raina said with a small wave of the bill.

I entered the room to see Chelsea sitting in front of a cosmetic mirror and plucking her eyebrows. Hard to believe those caterpillars were her maintained look.

She didn’t look at me as she said, “You got your textbooks already.”

“Yep.” I unloaded them onto the desk. “I’m a nerd.”

“So you’re coming to the party.” I could tell from her tone that she wasn’t too happy with the idea.

“I guess so.”

She finally looked at me. “What happened between you and Declan today? I think Jin was upset.” Somehow I got the impression it wasn’t Jin who was the one upset.

Turning my back on Chelsea, I began putting the books away on the shelf above my desk. “What do you mean? He just caught me. In the game.”

“Hmm.” Chelsea sniffed.

I felt like sniffing back at her.

“So your mom . . .” Chelsea’s eyes fell on the picture by my bed. “How did she die?”

“Car accident.”

“Drunk driver?”

“No. A truck ran a light and hit her. Last month.”

Chelsea’s mouth formed a perfect O. “Wow. Not that long ago.”

“Nope.”

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She didn’t say anything after that, but it didn’t bother me. No one really knew how to handle death. It had taken days before my friends had even started sending awkward condolences texts. People simply didn’t know what to say. I was used to it at this point.

By 7:00 p.m. the guys had already cracked their beers and were pumping bass loud enough for us to hear it on the fifth floor. Chelsea and Jin headed down, anxious that someone else might grab their drinks, but I waited for Raina, who came back around 8:30 and only stopped in her room long enough to toss the longboard in.

When we were in the stairwell, she squeezed my arm excitedly. “I met a guy. His name’s Chase. I was riding my longboard to class and he was on a skateboard and he kind of rode up to me and started talking to me. He’s awesome, Avery. I told him to come tonight.”

It was my first time in the lounge and I was pleasantly surprised. Considering the age of the cement building, which looked more like a wartime bunker, I half expected to see foldable canvas chairs and stained corduroy couches. Instead everything was modern.

Judging from the pristine shape of all the furniture and sleekness of the fifty-inch television, I guessed the lounge must have been remodeled before the school year. It was a decent size and divided into two sections: common area and kitchen. Two modern and uncomfortable gray couches, a white plastic coffee table, and a plasma television bolted to the wall made up the common area. The kitchen was shaped like an L with a table that usually fit six chairs, but now they were scattered around the lounge and the table was being used for beer pong.

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“Do all these people live in our building?” I asked Raina while scanning the crowded room. Jin and Chelsea were standing in the kitchen flirting with two guys.

Chelsea kept laughing and tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“I’ve never seen half of these people,” Raina answered.

As if to confirm that, Matt emerged from the crowd on his way to the kitchen. He grinned when he saw me and gave me a high five.

“I still can’t believe that, girl! Out of freakin’ nowhere.” I laughed and he leaned down to half whisper in my ear, “I heard Declan was super put out. You should have heard the way the guys were shitting on him. You’re like, what? Five foot nothing?”

I bristled a little, then sighed in defeat. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Matt laughed and slapped my back. “He’s used to being hot shit. Don’t take it personally if he’s an ass to you for the rest of the year.” Then he walked away, leaving me standing there with my mouth hanging open.

Uh oh. I hadn’t thought of that.

Raina moved to stand in front of me. “What was that about?”

“Nothing.”

I let Raina lead me through the crowd toward the kitchen, where most of the guys from our building were congregated. It was also where all the booze was, so that wasn’t a surprise. Jer was leaning against the counter talking to a tall brunette from another floor—I think her name was Meghan. He spotted me over her shoulder and waved us over.

“I wasn’t sure what beer you like,” he said to me, “so I bought a few kinds. Take your pick.”

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There were three boxes on the counter: light, medium and dark beer. I had no idea what I liked either, so I went for Blue Moon because I liked the design. It reminded me of paranormal novels about misty woods and werewolves.

Raina found her name on a sticky note attached to a bottle of vanilla vodka. She grabbed a dirty shot glass from the counter, rinsed it in the sink and then filled it with the golden liquid. Took a sip and made a face.

“This is sickly sweet.” She grabbed two more shot glasses and repeated the process. “You two—take a shot with me.”

“After that endorsement, how could we turn it down?” I accepted the shot glass, grimacing. Okay, there had been two times I’d gotten really drunk. How could I ever forget vodka shot roulette in the park?

Another one of my ex’s great ideas.

We clinked shots and then tipped our heads back. The liquid burned sweetly down my throat. I gagged and slammed the glass down on the counter.

“That was sick, Raina!”

“I told you!”

Jer grinned, looking not at all put out. “Girly drinks are the worst.”

Raina put her hands on her hips. “Are you being sexist now?” she teased.

“Just stating a fact. You need to go for scotch.”

“No, I need to go for beer.” She smiled sweetly, holding up the vodka bottle.

“Trade you this for one of those six packs?”

Jer glanced at me and then sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Fine. I’ll give it to the guys once they’re drunk. Anything will taste good then.”

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“Sweet!” She darted to the closest box and ripped it open.

Two girls stood and left one of the couches, and Jer looked at me, motioned to it.

“Wanna sit down?”

I glanced at Raina, who gave me a sly nod over her shoulder, and then followed Jer. We sat down and I took a sip of the beer, surveying the room.

“This is pretty good.” I held the beer up.

“Yeah, I like it too. It’s a white Belgian, so it tastes really good with a slice of orange. Are you a big drinker?”

“Not really.”

He smiled. “I could tell.”

“You are?”

He shrugged. “I’m from Florida. Beaches, babes and beer. I have an older brother so I used his ID. I still have it, which is why I was able to get everything. We look pretty much identical. Look.” He pulled out his wallet and showed me.

He was right. They had the same long face shape, blond curls and gray eyes. Jer’s hair was longer than his brother’s, ending just above his shoulders, but other than that they could be twins.

“Do you surf?” I asked, thinking he looked the part.

“Of course. I traveled to Costa Rica one summer too. I’ve already surfed here, but I had to wear a wetsuit. Bummer.”

I laughed. “Wait until winter here. You’re gonna freeze.”

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“Totally. I love all oceans, but I prefer the Atlantic to the Pacific personally. I’m studying to be a marine biologist so I thought it would be a good idea to experience something new. What are you studying?”

“I’m just taking a bunch of courses really.” I shrugged. “I don’t really have a . . . plan.”

“Cool. Do you have a boyfriend back home?”

I smiled and glanced away, flattered he was asking. “No. I mean, we broke up before I came here.”

“Didn’t want to try long distance?”

“I knew he wouldn’t accept us breaking up,” I said carefully, “so I tried not to tell him I was leaving town.” He’d found out though.

“My girlfriend was pretty adamant about sticking with long distance. She said it’s not even a big deal anymore with FaceTime and phone se—” Jer broke off, shifting uncomfortably. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear that.”

Right about then I got the eerie sense I was being watched. Trying to look natural I glanced over my shoulder, and there was Declan. He looked casual and hot wearing a tight black shirt and jeans, leaning against the wall with the sole of his right foot pressed against it while he sipped his beer, staring at me. I swallowed. The two girls on either side of him were talking animatedly but he was staring right at me with this intense look, almost as if he was pissed off.

I quickly looked back at Jer. “I’m gonna grab another beer,” he was saying. “Do you want one?”

“Um, yeah. Sure.”

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Jer got up and unable to help myself, I glanced over at Declan again. Eyes still narrowed, he pushed off the wall and started toward me. The girls shot him a look that clearly said What the hell?

Shit. I instantly turned around again. What did he want? There was an entire room of college women, including Chelsea and Jin. As if sensing what was about to happen, they both looked over.

Double shit.

Declan lowered himself onto the couch beside me. “What are you drinking?”

“Nothing.” I slipped the beer between my arm and the couch cushion.

He arched a single dark brow. “Wow, that was brutal.”

It really was. My face heated but I pulled myself together, tossing my hair over my shoulder and giving him my best bitchy smile. “Right, you can’t narc us—you’d only get yourself in trouble.”

“Yes, I probably would.”

“Especially considering you’re underage yourself,” I added.

“Actually I started classes late because I was traveling the world.” He smirked.

“So no, I’m twenty-one.”

I sank a little into the couch. “Oh.” “No need to apologize.” He was still smiling as he cocked his head to the side.

“How old are you anyway?”

“Eighteen next month.”

He let out a low whistle. “I probably shouldn’t be talking to you, let alone letting you keep that beer.”

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I pulled the beer out from the cushion and took a long swig, daring him. “Why are you talking to me anyway?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

It occurred to me then that maybe he was just doing his job as my RA. I took a sip of my beer and ended up downing the rest of it. “Never mind.”

A smile pulled at the edge of his lips. “Ah, I get it. You think I wouldn’t be interested in you, that I would only talk to a hotter chick.”

Ouch. My grip on the bottle tightened and for a moment I considered hitting him with it. This guy made asshole look like a compliment. Where did he get off saying that kind of thing? I guess being the campus wet dream meant you didn’t have to bother with everyday social niceties.

He leaned toward me, and when I flinched away, he actually looked a little surprised. Okay, so he wasn’t just an asshole—he was crazy too. Perfect.

“I’m not saying you’re unattractive, Avery,” he said in a low voice. “You are.”

“Am not,” I argued, but quickly realized he was right. I’d sold myself short.

Declan leaned back again, placing an arm along the back of the couch. “So apparently you think I have a type. Enlighten me.”

No way, Jose.

“Relax, I’m your RA. I’m not hitting on you. What’s my type?”

My mind instantly traveled to the blond hair I’d seen in the video, but I couldn’t exactly say that. So I listed features opposite to my own. “Tall and blond with boobs that look like balloons. Maybe tanned too.” I was pretty pale. “Pretty much a swimsuit model.”

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He laughed loudly and a number of heads turned to look at us, the females casting us dirty looks. A blush spread over my cheeks and I focused on picking at my beer label.

“That’s actually pretty apt. For how I used to be, anyway.”

“Used to be?” Somehow I doubted that.

“Yeah.” He casually removed the label off his beer and placed it on my bare leg.

It was cold and wet and I instantly knocked it away. Only it didn’t budge. He grinned as I peeled it off my skin. “I used to be kind of a shallow jerk. I dated girls I thought I was supposed to like. Some of them were brunette but none of them were short. They were models,” he added after a beat.

“I knew it!” His lip twitched and I told myself to chill before asking, “And now?”

“Now I don’t do relationships.”

What a surprise.

He twisted to face me. “Should I be concerned about your self-esteem? First you assumed I didn’t want you on my team and now you assume I don’t find you attractive.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. I was so not taking the bait.

“I get it. You’re fishing for compliments.” He pulled back a slow smile. “So okay.

I’ll tell you what you need to hear. I like your look. The busty Barbie doesn’t do it for me.

You’re small and swift like a wiry forest creature. Your eyes are too large for your face like Christina Ricci, the younger years.”

“Gee, thanks.” There he went again—being a jerk and insulting me. “I’m pretty sure her eyes are still large in her old age.”

Tilting his head closer, he said in a low voice, “And it suits her, like it suits you.”

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Jer returned then, and I wasn’t sure if I imagined it or if Declan shifted closer to me.

“Here you go.” Jer handed me a beer. “I didn’t open it,” he added reassuringly. It took me a moment to understand what he was implying, and I shivered. Sure I thought about that kind of thing, but it was different to have a guy actually say it to you.

Luckily I didn’t have time to analyze it because Declan grabbed the beer from my hand, opened it and passed it back. Looked up at Jer and smiled.

“I think we’ve got it from here, buddy.”

Jer’s eyes narrowed and for a moment he looked like he was going to say something. But he must have thought better of it because instead he looked at me again and his face broke into his usual relaxed smile. “Come find me later, Avery.”

Then he walked away and it was just the two of us again.

“That wasn’t nice,” I told Declan.

Declan shrugged. “It wasn’t mean either.”

It kind of was, but I didn’t say that. Instead I took a sip of my new cold beer and wondered why every hot guy had to be a jackass. Was it a prerequisite or something?

“So that stunt you pulled in the game,” Declan said after a moment. “That was kind of impressive.”

“Um, thanks.”

“I think I underestimated you.”

I shot him a glare. “I thought you put me on the other team because you wanted to catch me.”

He grinned, and my insides tightened. Not good.

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“I did. I just didn’t know it could actually be a challenge.”

“Glad I could prove you wrong then,” I bit out.

“I’m looking forward to all the other ways you might prove me wrong.”

“What does that mean?” But I had an idea, and my voice sounded kind of high and twinkly.

Grinning wickedly, he took a swig of his beer, his eyes never leaving me. I broke the eye contact, glancing toward the kitchen. I needed to get off this couch. Pronto.

Declan was trouble. Maybe the fun kind of trouble, but he couldn’t be trusted.

I’d been hoping to catch a glimpse of Raina and somehow signal to her that I needed saving, but instead I caught the stabby eyes of Chelsea and Jin. I quickly looked back at Declan and thought of something to say, anything that would prove I wasn’t turning into a puddle in his presence.

“Declan—that’s Irish, right?”

“On my mother’s side. Which is why I’m such a good drinker.” He leaned closer and whispered in my ear, “Do you want to know what else I’m good at?”

My cheeks heated as warmth blossomed in my belly. No. I was getting sucked in.

He was hot and charming and good at what he was doing. What did they call guys like him?

A player.

“So, the video,” I said loudly and scooted over to put a decent amount of space between us. “How did that come about?”

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The sentence hung there for what felt like an eternity. It wasn’t as sneaky as I’d intended. In fact, it was pretty damn obvious. The alcohol was making me brave, and the bravery was making me stupid. I held my breath and waited for shit to hit the fan.

“I was spotted in a grocery store.” Declan shrugged. Facing forward again he stretched his arms above his head, his shirt riding up and revealing tantalizing muscles.

He grunted and dropped his arms. “They liked my curly hair.”

I frowned. His hair was wavy but I wouldn’t classify it as curly. Sexy as hell, at any rate. I wondered what it would feel like to run my hands through it. I shook my head to clear it.

“You got picked up because of your hair?”

He grinned. “It’s good hair. Don’t you think?”

“Well yeah, but . . .” I didn’t really have a ‘but.’ Imagine being so hot you got picked up while buying your groceries. And he’d said “they”—did that kind of thing happen to him a lot?

Unwanted images of threesomes popped into mind.

“So yeah, I was only five years old,” he continued. “They liked my look and it all went downhill from there.”

“Right—women liked you even when you were a kid.” I rolled my eyes. “I get it.

You have an ego.”

Declan just stared at me for a moment and then understanding set in. His jaw tightened and he turned away from me. When he spoke, he was staring straight ahead.

“You don’t know. You just meant to embarrass me about the sex tape.”

“I’m sorry. It just came out.” I paused. “What do you mean? What don’t I know?”

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“Nothing.” He stood without looking at me. “See you around, Avery.”

The moment he left, I stood on shaky legs, still uncertain what had gone down, and headed straight for the beers. I had four left, which were surprisingly still in the box.

Score.

I’d barely pulled one out before Jin and Chelsea appeared beside me.

“Tell me everything,” Jin demanded.

“There isn’t much to tell,” I said as I fumbled with the bottle opener.

“You were talking for at least ten minutes.”

“Were we?”

“Then he just left, didn’t bother saying hi to anyone.”

For some reason this top was proving harder than the others. Wait—I didn’t open the others.

“It’s a twist off,” Chelsea said in annoyance and grabbed the bottle from me, popped it off in a matter of seconds. I gave a little cheer.

“Are you drunk?” she asked, her face full of motherly judgment.

I thought about it. “I think so.”

She rolled her eyes. “Focus. What was Declan saying to you?”

I glanced away and took a sip, unsure how to respond. I trusted Chelsea as far as I could throw her—drunk.

“I think he kind of likes you,” Jin said softly.

I put the bottle to my lips and resisted biting down on it.

“I saw the way he was looking at you.”

I bit down. “No, he’s just like that. He’s charming and flirtatious by nature.”

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“That’s what I said,” Chelsea chimed in.

“I think he’s mad at me,” I said after a moment. “I brought up the video.”

“You didn’t!” Chelsea chastised, but her eyes were full of excitement.

“I did. I suck.” I took another sip. “I asked how it came about. He started saying he was picked up at five because of his gorgeous hair and I called him out for having an ego. I mean, who says women liked him at five? That’s just messed up.”

“Oh.” Jin exhaled, her cheeks turning a pretty pink. “Oh no. We didn’t tell you.”

Chelsea was laughing, a hand over her mouth. She looked embarrassed for me.

“What?” I asked, looking between them.

“Another RA teased him about it first night. We thought everyone knew.” Jin’s voice was a whisper.

“Knew what?”

“Declan was a child star,” Chelsea said, smiling like a cat.

“Well, shit.” I tilted my beer and proceeded to drain the third bottle.

I left pretty quickly after that—I didn’t need to do or say anything else I would regret. It kind of made sense that I’d put my foot in my mouth with my RA. An ex-child star turned preteen heartthrob. The fantasy date of every female on campus. I was, after all, the same person I’d always been. Moving cities wouldn’t change that.

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At least now I knew why everyone was so obsessed with him. His looks and the stairwell video were enough, but he was also a celebrity. An ex-celebrity, but still a celebrity on campus.

Once I was curled up in bed with the lights out, I googled Declan Hargrove on my cell. The first picture I saw made me smile. Declan as a little boy, his head full of curls like he’d said and his eyes that striking blue color even then. In a forest scene he was holding a stick and grinning mischievously, patches of dirt on his cheeks. He’d been in a movie called Tiny Tyrant about a little boy who causes trouble everywhere he goes. No matter what he does, disaster seems to follow, so the neighbors don’t like him and don’t let their kids play with him. Then on a summer vacation, he runs away from his family when they stop at a gas station and ends up hitching a ride with bank robbers and in the end, aiding in their arrest. Everyone in the community comes to love him.

I swiped through the photos: Declan with his movie family eating cereal, Declan and the burglars talking outside the gas station, Declan holding a flashlight on a dark street all alone, Declan smiling proudly and shaking a policeman’s hand.

In his preteen years he went on to guest appear in various TV shows and to star as one of four brothers in a popular series called Mimi and the Boys, dropping out after only the first season.

When I started to feel like a stalker, I exited the site, but not before checking the network to see if anyone in the building had Tiny Tyrant available to stream—the result was pretty much everyone. I saved the path on my laptop and then rolled over and fell asleep.

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At some point when I was deep in sleep, I heard Chelsea and Jin coming down the hall, bumping into walls and giggling. They went into Jin’s room but I could still hear them talking. Made sense considering our beds shared the same wall.

“Jer does too,” Jin was saying, her voice slurring.

“I don’t get it,” Chelsea whispered loudly. “She isn’t even really pretty.”

“Shh!” Jin giggled.

“No one can hear us. We’re whispering!”

“She’s right next door.”

“I don’t care. It’s my opinion. Declan is super hot and she’s not. He wouldn’t belong with her.”

I rolled over, pulling the pillow over my head.

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107

Chapter One

I was a failure. Officially. The evidence couldn’t have been more obvious if it had punched me in the face—Friday night at a Halloween contest for pets. I didn’t even have a pet. I was here because my roommate had entered the contest, and I didn’t have anything better to do than tag along.

And if that red flag wasn’t enough, a dog had just stuck its slobbery nose up my backside.

I shouldn’t have worn a flirty, short skirt; the hem lifted and air brushed the part of my leg where the upper thigh curved; maybe more important, I shouldn’t have worn a thong with the skirt. It wasn’t one of my brighter moments.

But what I’d been thinking was this: my boyfriend and I were supposed to go on our first real date in weeks, and even though it wasn’t the kind of thing I would normally do, I thought he’d appreciate both the skirt and the thong.

He’d canceled.

Now the only one appreciating it was the dog, whose moist breath I could feel against my bare ass.

This was why I avoided impulsive moments. Impulse and I just didn’t get along. And I didn’t even like wearing thongs. Whose idea was it to stick fabric between someone’s butt cheeks and call it underwear?

It was unnatural. And I was paying for the travesty.

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I reached behind me, my hand landing not on the dog’s thick, furry skull but on some sort of plastic helmet. I gave it a fierce shove and the dog whined. Like I was being really cruel for dislodging its nose from my crotch. But my skirt didn’t fall to cover me. The hem had somehow gotten stuck in the top band of my underwear. How had the stupid mutt managed that?

I yanked the fabric back into its proper position and turned slowly, hoping that no one stood behind me, but half expecting the entire population of the park to be pointing and laughing.

Was it too much to ask that the earth crack open and swallow me into its fiery depths before I died from mortification?

When I faced the park, there was no crowd gathered, but I didn’t manage to walk away unscathed. A small group of people were gathered around a nearby park bench, and a man jogged over from their direction. I glanced past him to the others, but they were deep in their own conversation and didn’t notice me.

He stopped in front of me and knelt to pick up the leash that trailed on the ground.

I stared down at his head. He looked young. He might have been attractive but it was difficult to tell at this angle. He had on dark jeans and a well-fitted black T-shirt.

Earth, now would be a good time.

“Sorry,” he said. “Vader got away from me.”

A German shepherd stood at my feet with a lopsided grin and tongue lolling out. He sported a Darth Vader helmet and cape and was wagging his tail as his wet doggy eyes stared up at me like he’d done something praiseworthy.

The creature was beyond evil. Horns and a pointy tail would have been a more accurate costume.

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And then I looked back to the owner to observe him more closely. It was a mistake. Now that he was standing and I could see him straight on, I could tell that he was sort of cute. And that just made everything worse. His brown hair glinted with reddish highlights, ending past his ears with a curl. His face was longish with high cheekbones and a straight nose that had a slight bump on the bridge. Light blue eyes held mine steadily.

I looked down; that was a bigger mistake. My gaze fell on his mouth.

His lips. I swallowed. They were full, curved, sensual, and right now they were tilted in an apologetic smile.

Which meant, most likely, he’d glimpsed some or all of my butt, possibly even my lacy red thong.

Hot lips or not, my body heated with embarrassment that quickly morphed to anger. It was my coping mechanism for shame—probably not a good one. Even though it was warm for mid-October, I pulled my jacket tighter around my torso, my arms wrapping around my chest.

“Keep track of your stupid dog,” I snapped.

He patted the dog’s side like I might have hurt its feelings. “He just does that sometimes.

I guess he thinks he’s being friendly.”

That was it then. He’d seen the whole thing—the whole thing. I actually felt vaguely nauseous.

Why was this happening to me? Why did it have to be a young, attractive male? The only young, attractive male who should have seen my thonged ass was my boyfriend. Not to be perverted or anything, but I’d rather have an old lady check out my butt than this guy.

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“That’s great,” I said, taking refuge in sarcasm. “I hope lots of strange dogs want to be friends with you. You’ll see how fun it is to have their nose up your . . .” I didn’t finish that statement—the word got stuck in my throat and I could feel my face burn.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and I noticed his lips were pressed together, like he was trying not to smile. Or laugh. “It’s not a big deal.”

I hadn’t realized my mortification was so hilarious. If looks could kill, the glare I shot him then would have made his face melt off his skull, like something from an Indiana Jones movie. At my level of pissed-off-ness it was hard to be clever. “That’s great,” I said.

But at least I said it in a really seething way.

He actually did laugh then, a little huff of amusement that made me want to disappear off the face of the planet. He started to say something, but I brushed past him and he fell silent.

I couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Of course, that meant turning my backside to him again. Surreptitiously, I ran my hands down my hips to make sure the skirt covered everything it was supposed to cover. And then, with long strides, I crossed the mulch path to find my roommate.

As I diverted from the trail, my flats crunched over fallen leaves, and I took cover behind an oak tree. I leaned against the trunk and looked up through withered branches that were barren and vulnerable without their autumn crown. The sky through the limbs was just starting to darken toward twilight.

“Oh my God,” I muttered, pressing my palms against my face. My skin felt overheated.

“Dani?”

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It was my roommate’s voice. She veered toward me, crossing ground with quick strides and a hefty costumed cat reclining in her arms. Her eyebrows were drawn together, forming wrinkles along her forehead. “You okay? Where did you run off to?”

I pushed away from the tree; the bark scratched against my hands. “I’m fine,” I said. “I wanted to get a better view of the sunset.”

There was a clearing in the park that pointed west, away from the trees and the farther-off concrete, metal, and glass of the city toward the open sky—the clearing where Darth Vader and Hot Lips had been waiting to ambush me. Every sunrise and sunset was a little bit different. I liked to think about what colors I would mix to come up with the perfect pinks, lavenders, oranges, and reds for each unique one.

“How was it?”

I lifted my shoulders. “Brief.” Mortifying, I added silently. I should have just stayed home in my frumpiest pair of flannel pajamas. Nothing awkward ever happened to people who stayed home in their frumpy pajamas.

“That’s too bad,” she said.

Alyssa had been an art major at the same college I’d attended. But she’d been more practical (one of the three words I would use to describe her most prominent traits if anyone asked, along with efficient and blunt) and done a concentration in graphic design. Now she had an entry-level job at a marketing firm. Graphic design was a lot more applicable than painting.

Not to say that I wasn’t practical. But I loved painting more than anything else— majoring in it had seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

“I might take off, if you don’t care.”

“Do you want a ride?” she asked.

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“I’ll take the L.” Alyssa lifted her flat-faced cat, Princess, who sported an expression like she’d just eaten a smorgasbord of mice and was thoroughly satisfied. On her head sat a fake gold tiara spotted with paste-on jewels; her front paws peeked out from puffed sleeves. “She won second place!”

“Yeah?” I said, noticing the second place ribbon they’d hung over her neck, like the kind students won at the science fair. “Congratulations. Who got first?”

She pointed across the park. “The tiger.”

I followed the direction of her gesture, where a big dog slept in the grass next to a wrought iron bench. Its owner had painted orange and black stripes all along its body and face.

“Is that allowed?”

She shrugged. “I guess so. But I think Princess is much prettier, aren’t you, baby?” She nuzzled the cat’s face, and it responded with a deep-throated purr.

That was my cue to leave. I always thought it was a little weird when people cooed over their pets. At least Alyssa hadn’t started calling herself Princess’s mom. Yet. “I’ll see you later.”

The ride on the train was a long one, the hum of distant conversations filling my ears. I managed to get a seat and kept my forehead pressed against the cool window as my eyes watched the reflection of the other riders in the glass. They all had places to be on a Friday night, most likely. Or people to be with.

I assumed most of them were going out. Not going home.

I wondered what Drew and I would be doing if he hadn’t canceled. Probably watching a movie or eating at one of the restaurants we liked. Drew and I had similar taste: in food, in

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movies, in music. He wasn’t as interested in art as I was, but it had never bothered me before.

Everything else just fell into place naturally. Things were easy between us.

Or they had been. Drew’s father had given him a management job at SLQ, the actuarial consulting company he’d cofounded, right after college. Drew’s parents were divorced, and he’d never had much of a relationship with his father. So when his dad offered him the job, he accepted it as a chance to get closer to him.

Drew had started out near fifty hours a week, but he’d reassured me his hours would dwindle once he got the hang of things. But so far, his workload just kept increasing. And I saw less and less of him.

Which meant I was alone more and more.

Solitude didn’t bother me. Sometimes in college I’d holed up for days working on an art project, emerging from my den like a hibernating bear on the first day of spring only after the project was complete. But I’d had purpose then. It was more difficult to be alone when you felt aimless.

And when you didn’t know if the distance between you and your boyfriend was permanent or temporary.

Once I was back in the small apartment I shared with Alyssa—one bedroom, which was hers; I slept on the pull-out couch in the living room because I wasn’t paying rent—I flopped down in the recliner and flipped on the television. Mindless TV watching was a good distraction; one I’d been using a little too often of late.

Titanic was on. With commercials.

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And even though I owned the DVD and knew watching any movie that long on network television was a waste of time, it was ridiculously easy to be drawn into the whirlwind romance.

And the dresses. The dresses were gorgeous.

I would have watched all five hours of it, but at some point as the ship and its passengers met their icy fate, I fell asleep.

Alyssa must have switched off the TV when she came home because I woke up in the morning to a black screen and sunlight slanting through the window. * “How have you demonstrated your leadership in the past?”

What kind of question was that? They all asked it. I didn’t really see what leadership had to do with a secretarial position—it was entry level, one of the lowest of the low as far as the art gallery went—since the only thing I would be leading would be my eyeballs to read e-mails and sign for shipments.

I folded my hands in my lap, straightening in the chair that hugged a round white table.

The truth was I didn’t have any leadership experience. I’d had exactly two extracurricular activities in college—the art club and a marketing internship. In art club, all we did was paint sets for the Theater Department. But even during the internship I hadn’t been in charge of anyone; I’d sat at my desk and added photos to the company’s website.

I smiled at the director in her crisp, button-down suit. Or tried to smile. Nerves made my stomach roil, so my curled lips must have looked more sickly than cheerful. “Whenever there were group projects for my college courses, I tended to take the leadership position,” I said after a deep breath and a quick survey of my scattered thoughts. “I felt that everyone was at their most efficient when there were clearly defined goals and a division of labor. Everything also tended to

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run more smoothly when I would set deadlines for everyone’s individual tasks. I like to think of leadership as being a motivator.”

Not bad. Complete bullshit. But not bad.

I just hoped Ms. Director (I’d already blanked on her name) couldn’t tell it was complete bullshit.

She nodded, her face smooth. The woman wasn’t going to give me a clue about what she thought of my answer. My palms felt clammy, so I rubbed them on my skirt and then balled my hands into fists and rested them on my knees.

“Why do you want this job, Ms. Meyer?”

Because I want a paycheck.

“I majored in art,” I said, “so working at a gallery like this one would be my dream.”

Actually, at the moment, working anywhere I didn’t ask “Do you want fries with that?” sounded good enough. “I’m very meticulous and organized, so secretarial work is perfect for me. But just being a part of the community of art lovers here would be fulfilling. When my family and I would make trips to the city, we’d visit this gallery because it’s one of my favorites. It always has a great selection, and I love the architecture of the building.”

Bullshit, again. I didn’t like this gallery any better than any of the other ones I’d visited.

In fact, the workers at this one seemed a little snobby. It wasn’t my first choice, but there was that saying about beggars I’d taken to heart.

Another stone-faced nod.

“Why do you want to work here?”

Hadn’t I already answered that? I plastered a smile on my face and talked about the great benefits. My interviewer kind of scared me. Her lips never broke into a smile, and her dark hair

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was pinned back so severely her forehead stretched to an unnatural angle. I’d thought art people were supposed to be whimsical. This one reminded me of the wicked witch.

She didn’t respond to my answer. She simply moved to the next question.

“Okay, Ms. Meyer, how would you rate me as an interviewer?”

My hand clenched in my skirt. Was this a trick question?

I’d hesitated too long. Her finely plucked eyebrow began a slow arch upward. I opened my mouth. “You asked good questions,” I finally said, lamely. “I’d give you a very high rating.” * “I don’t think it went well,” I told Drew, dropping the lemon wedge into a tall glass of iced tea.

My tenth interview in the past few months, and it was another dead end.

We sat across from each other in a booth at a local café, where they managed to be a little more upscale than fast food by bringing the meal to your table when it was ready, even though you still ordered at the counter. They were known for their grilled sandwiches. Usually they came with fries, but I’d ordered a side salad to make up for the surge of microwave TV dinners I’d been eating.

The walls in the café were painted a calming blue and decorated with vintage-style photos. Our booth had an Eiffel Tower shot.

A lunch date was all Drew had time for anymore.

His phone beeped. He checked it and then slid it back into his pocket before answering.

“Did you really want to work as a secretary?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I wouldn’t mind it.”

“You’ll have to find something else.”

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I nearly rolled my eyes. “I know. It’s not that easy.” Not everyone had a father who could place their son at a high-level job.

I didn’t say that. It sounded a little bitter. Okay, a lot bitter.

“Why don’t you apply at SLQ?” he asked. “I could put in a good word for you with human resources.”

I shook my head. “What would I do? I’m probably not even qualified for anything.”

“There are a few lower-level jobs. Some that require a high school diploma and no experience. You could see if one of those has an opening.”

“I’ll think about it.” I sighed. “I shouldn’t have majored in art—how does that translate to a career?”

“It doesn’t.” He grinned. “But you knew that; that’s not why you picked it.”

No, I picked it because I’d never felt as perfectly right as I did when I was in front of a canvas. But now my easel stood in the dark corner of a closet, behind the clothes in the back that I didn’t wear. Every time I reached for my paintbrushes a twisting, consuming fear clutched at my chest.

I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him I hadn’t painted a thing since graduation, but a shrill beep cut me off.

I watched Drew pull out his phone again, his fingers flying over the screen. I suddenly felt a gulf between us, starker and deeper than I’d realized. I remembered how it had been before—we’d started dating our senior year of college. Drew and I had sat next to each other in biology. I didn’t usually approach new people, but he’d started a conversation with me one day.

And though I had only a handful of friends, Drew had become one of them pretty quickly. We’d joked about our professor, who gave really long, dry lectures and whose specialty

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was a rare lizard in the Southwest. We’d talked about our favorite movies and music and discovered how much we had in common.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when Drew asked me out on a date, but I was. At the time I hadn’t realized he felt something for me, and I wasn’t sure I wanted a relationship anyway, but I liked Drew, liked being around him, and I didn’t want to lose that, so I said yes.

And for a few short months things had been good—for someone who’d reached twentytwo without dating anyone, it had been a whirlwind of new experiences—late nights and tentative gestures and walking around campus with his arm slung over my shoulder.

I missed it. I missed him.

When had everything changed?

“Hey,” I said, “we should do something this week. Will you be busy?”

“Probably,” he said. He paused to thank the teenage employee who brought us our food before turning back to me. “But I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I? What should we do?”

I didn’t like the way he said that. Neglecting me. Like I was some sort of puppy he had to show affection to every now and then. I brushed it off, picking up my fork and spearing a tomato. “Alyssa has a date tomorrow night. You could come over and we could, I don’t know, order takeout and watch a movie, or do whatever. It’ll be fun.”

“Tomorrow night?” He frowned. “I don’t know if that’s—” but then he looked up from his phone. I didn’t want to know what he read in my expression—loneliness, desperation? His frown eased into a smile. “Yeah, I’ll make time for it.”

“Good,” I said, forcing a smile. As I leaned forward and took a sip of tea, I searched around for something to talk about before he whipped out his phone again. “I went to that Halloween contest with Alyssa.”

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He groaned good-naturedly. “Where you dress up your pet?”

“Yeah that one. It wasn’t horrible. And Princess won second place.”

“She won a prize for that?”

“A ribbon. First place got a gift basket with pet products, I think.”

Drew laughed. “I can’t believe you actually went.” He took a big bite of his sandwich and chewed.

I didn’t have anything else to do. But that wasn’t what I said; I didn’t want him to think I was guilt-tripping him. Instead my shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I’m getting into the Halloween spirit.”

As I watched Drew devour his sandwich with a ravenousness that always amazed me, my mind reached back to Darth Vader, Hot Lips, and my Horrible Thong Experience, as I was starting to call it. I thought about telling Drew. It was something we could laugh over.

But I hesitated. And then the moment was gone and I couldn’t bring it back.

“Speaking of Halloween,” he said. “Do you want to watch some old horror movies on our date?”

“Sure. What should I pick up?”

And then, as Drew warmed to the subject, the conversation flowed more easily and nothing was left unsaid, and it felt like it had at the beginning. Like it had months ago, when we were just two people discovering each other and the whole world was in front of us. * The red thong rested atop all my other underwear in the drawer. I snatched my hand back as though it had been burned when my fingers grazed the fabric.

I’d bought it for Drew, but now it was tainted by Darth Shepherd and Hot Lips.

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“I’m not wearing you,” I said, pulling out a more serviceable pair of black bikini bottoms instead. After a second of indecision, I pushed the thong to the bottom of the drawer, where I couldn’t see it.

After I shrugged into jeans and a T-shirt (I didn’t want to make it look like I was trying too hard), I brushed on some mascara, slicked my lips with gloss, and waited. I grabbed a collection of poetry and tried to distract myself from the minute hand on the clock steadily ticking past the time we’d set. My gaze kept fluttering in that direction anyway—it was one of those black-and-white cat clocks with the bulbous eyes and swishing tail. Alyssa had picked it out. The thing was sort of creepy, but I supposed I should have been thankful she hadn’t decorated the whole apartment with a cat theme.

Twenty minutes after Drew was supposed to arrive, the intercom beeped and I stood to answer it.

A minute later, he stepped into the apartment with wind-tousled hair, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on the nearest chair. I noticed Princess’s shadow slinking along the wall to investigate and then slinking away again when she realized it was just Drew.

“Hi,” I said, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him. His mouth was cold and dry.

“Hi. Sorry I’m late. I wanted to run home and change.”

I stepped back from him, my hands sliding from his shoulders. “It’s fine.”

“What did you want to order?”

I lifted the takeout menu from the kitchen counter and handed it over. “Does Chinese sound good?”

“Sure.” He took his phone out and glanced at the menu. “Forty-five minutes,” he said once he’d placed the order.

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“Oh, I didn’t think it would be that long,” I said. I was pretty hungry.

He grinned, his eyebrows lifting suggestively. “What should we do?”

“What do you want to do?” A nervous fluttering began in my stomach that had nothing to do with emptiness.

“Do you even have to ask?” he said, moving toward me. “It’s been too long.” He took my face in his hands and pressed his lips to mine.

I felt a slow stirring of desire. After three weeks with only a few kisses here and there, having sex on the couch sounded way more appealing than it usually did. My hands fisted in his shirt as we stumbled toward the sofa blindly. His fingers trailed across my stomach, and I had to stifle laughter—they were still cold from being outside.

He unbuttoned my pants and together we shimmied them off; more clothes gathered on the floor beside us.

His mouth latched onto my nipple and sucked as I ran my hands through his dark hair.

Something quickened inside me and my breathing came in little gasps. He covered me with his long, lean body, pushing my legs farther apart to accommodate him. And then I felt a dull pressure.

He pushed into me.

I wasn’t ready. When Drew said it had been too long, that worked both ways. Though I was aroused, I wasn’t wet enough, and his invasion (because that’s exactly what it felt like) pinched and stung.

Drew tilted his hips, moving back and forth. Gradually, I opened for him, and it wasn’t quite so uncomfortable. But just as I was beginning to like the friction, he stilled, breathing hard.

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I blinked up at the ceiling, noticing a spiderweb in the corner—I’d have to get a broom to get it down. I moved my lower body a little bit and moaned. I didn’t even sound convincing to myself, but I think Drew was too focused on his own orgasm to notice.

His forehead fell against my shoulder, his chest rising and falling. “You’re still on the pill, right?”

“Yeah,” I said; my voice was oddly tight.

He laid against me for a few moments more. Then he dropped a kiss on my mouth before he withdrew. “That was nice,” he said, pulling on his boxers.

Nice—that sounded lackluster. Good weather was nice. Watching an interesting movie was nice. Sex was either more or less. “Very nice,” I agreed, reaching down to collect my own clothes. Except the best word to describe it would have been “underwhelming.”

But I was being selfish. We were together, which was what really mattered. Every couple probably had boring sex sometimes. It was no big deal.

I glanced at the clock on the living room wall. Fifteen minutes had passed—it would still be half an hour before the food arrived.

I leaned against Drew’s side, smelling his familiar spicy aftershave. It was nice just to have him here, really. I should have been happy about that, not hung up on an unreached climax.

I kissed the underside of his jaw.

“Did you check the job openings?” he asked, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

“There was a job in the Analytics Department, and it didn’t require experience.”

The official job title on the listing was clerical support specialist—which I was pretty sure was just SLQ’s way of making a low-level job seem prestigious. From the description it sounded like mostly data entry, plus a few miscellaneous tasks, like sending out mail.

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But it would be a lot better than working at a fast-food place, which was where I was seriously starting to worry I would end up.

“I can give your name to human resources.”

“Okay,” I said. I pressed my face against his neck; it had the smooth, just-shaved feeling that I liked. “I ended up renting four movies,” I said with a smile. My habit was to pick out more than one and then let him decide. When I was by myself I usually stood in the aisle staring at the selection until another library patron jostled me out of the way.

His chuckle trembled against my skin. “Great. Let’s see them.” * Less than two weeks later I started the job at SLQ. I’d gone in for an interview, dressed in slacks and a button-down business jacket, possible answers and possible questions running through my mind, and hadn’t been interviewed. Instead they’d sat me down and talked to me about what I’d be doing and when I could start. I guess if Drew/Drew’s father gave someone’s name to human resources, they were pretty much in. If I felt bad for the nepotism, which I did, I assuaged my guilt by telling myself I was overqualified for the job—it didn’t even require a college degree.

But that was depressing in its own way. I’d spent four years in college and I was overqualified for a job I’d only managed to get because my boyfriend’s father owned a third of the company.

At least I had a paycheck now.

The first couple of days went well; the guy who was leaving the position stuck around to train me. He was friendly and patient and I caught on quickly enough, feeling competent and adult. I brightened up my cubicle with little touches. On my desk, I set out a framed picture of

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my mom and sister and a glass vase with a carnation I’d picked out from the floral department of the grocery store. I stuck a calendar of Berthe Morisot paintings on the cubicle wall.

A picture of Drew was nowhere to be found though—I’d thought about putting one out, but I didn’t want my coworkers to know we were dating.

I never encountered Drew during the workday. SLQ was a big company and his office was in another department. The job itself was fine. Typing data into a computer for most of the day was monotonous and there wasn’t anything remotely creative about it, but it didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. If there was no creativity, there was also no pressure, nothing to live up to. My chest didn’t feel tight when my fingers flexed over the keyboard, not like it did when they grasped a paintbrush.

Those first couple of days, I was content in the monotony and I looked forward to my first paycheck, even though it wouldn’t be a lot. Maybe things were looking up.

But I never should have thought anything so hopeful. I jinxed myself.

Because on my third day of gainful employment, I saw him.

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Chapter Two

It was Hot Lips. And not casual jean-and-T-shirt Hot Lips but slacks-and-button-shirt-with-a-tie Hot Lips. No sports jacket. They went for a look somewhere between business casual and formal at SLQ. He walked toward an office across from the cubicles, one I’d noticed had been empty the first two days I was at work. He must have taken some time off. And lulled me into a false sense of security.

I ducked my head as my cheeks heated; I prayed he wouldn’t notice me.

“Hi,” a voice said.

Either there wasn’t a God or He liked to laugh at me—I would have known that voice anywhere; it was smooth as velvet, richly timbered. The kind of voice I normally liked to listen to in audiobooks. But this one was associated with public exposure.

I pretended I was really busy, slowly tearing my eyes from the computer screen to look at him like he was distracting me from a really important task. Hopefully he didn’t glance too closely at the blue screen; I’d just turned the computer on and it was still running through updates.

“You look familiar. Have we met before?”

“Uh . . .” Why was I hesitating? If he didn’t remember me, I wasn’t going to remind him.

But how could he not remember the girl who’d flashed her ass at him? My mouth went dry as the

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seconds ticked by; I could hear them as loudly as if I’d had a clock on my desk. Was it possible he remembered and was being nice by pretending nothing happened? Or was this amusing to him?

The silence stretched on. A smile quirked the corner of his lips. God, just answer the question! It’s not like he saw you stark naked. Butts were nudity lite, anyway; you could show five of them in a movie and still get a PG-13, right?

At least that’s what I told myself; it didn’t make me feel any less exposed.

“No,” I said. I managed a lame little smile. “I mean, I don’t think so.”

He reached out his hand. “I’m Evan.”

Like a skittish animal, I tentatively raised my arm and placed my hand in his. His fingers wrapped around me, strong, warm, imprisoning. “Danielle,” I said. “But my friends call me Dani.”

I didn’t breathe until he released his grip.

“Can I call you Dani?”

“If you want,” I said, keeping my voice neutral. I lowered my hand to my lap and flexed my palm against my thigh. The skin where he’d touched me felt overly sensitive.

“You just started here?” he asked.

“A couple of days ago.”

“Let me know if you need any help with anything, all right?”

“Sure, thanks.”

“Hey, nice flower,” he said, before he turned away, his eyes on the desk, “I like that shade of red on you.”

I frowned, my head snapping toward the carnation.

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I’d bought a red carnation, unwittingly selecting the same bright hue as the thong I’d worn to the park.

He’d been toying with me the whole time. * Lucy, the woman who occupied the office next to Evan, stopped by my desk that afternoon. She was older than me, in her midthirties maybe, with a round face and blond hair that she usually kept in an efficient bun. I was sort of jealous, since my own hair was boring mousey brown and too thin to look very good in a bun. “Dani, I wanted to let you know a few of us are going to Sadie’s Tavern after work. Feel free to come along.”

“Thanks, I’ll think about it,” I said. My eyes darted to the office across the hall and I wondered if Evan would be going to the bar.

The best thing would be to just go home and avoid potential embarrassment. But it was Friday night, and I didn’t have anything to go home to. Unless you counted made-for-TV movies and babysitting Princess.

The weekend dragged out ahead of me, endless and empty, like the weekends before. Just because Drew was busy tonight didn’t mean I had to stay at the apartment. I’d never really been into the bar scene in college, but it might be fun to try something different.

I decided right then I’d go, and that I’d enjoy myself, Hot Lips or not. * I sidled up to the bar to take the stool next to Lucy. Like most bars, it was dimly lit, blaring with loud music from a jukebox, and smelled faintly of smoke from the days when it hadn’t been illegal to smoke indoors. Two pool tables occupied one side of the room; round tables for eating

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were scattered on the other. Above the bartender’s area hung a handwritten sign on orange paperboard, advertising two-dollar shots and other Friday drink specials.

My fingers traced a groove in the countertop. The surface wasn’t smooth but instead etched with everything from hairline scratches to deep wedges. It was a well-worn bar, like an old pair of boots that weren’t in the best shape but were too comfortable to throw away.

Lucy was sipping an amber-colored beer from a tall glass. She smiled when she noticed me. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Thanks.”

“What’ll it be?” the bartender said, glancing at me as he removed some empty glasses from the counter.

I eyed the drink specials uncertainly. If I drank anything alcoholic I preferred a sweet wine every now and then. And a place like this didn’t seem to cater to the wine-drinking crowd; it was all beer and hard liquor.

“Jack and Coke,” I said after a long hesitation. I wondered if it would be weird to ask that he go light on the Jack. Or maybe I should have ordered a Coke instead.

“Are you liking SLQ?” Lucy asked, turning toward me slightly.

“Yeah; everyone’s been nice so far.” The bartender slid me my drink and I took a sip.

The Jack was way stronger than the soda. I had to fight back a shudder.

“Good, I’m glad to hear it.”

I glanced around; more and more people came into the bar, causing the heat and the volume level to skyrocket. It must have been a popular place to relax after work. I saw a few people from SLQ come in through the doorway—including a tall figure I recognized instantly—I turned back to my drink before he had a chance to notice me.

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But then, from right next to me . . . “Hey, Evan!” Lucy called.

Damn it, Lucy!

I wanted to shrink down into my chair. I felt a sudden irrational longing to be the size of a Borrower—then I could hurl my tiny body into my Jack and Coke and drown myself.

“Hey,” Evan said, from right behind me.

I swiveled on my bar stool to face him, hoping to appear nonchalant. Like any confident twentysomething swigging liquor at a bar, talking to a guy she barely knew who’d already seen underneath her skirt.

Except I had the feeling I wasn’t that confident and I wasn’t very good at faking it.

“You’ve met Dani, haven’t you?” Lucy asked.

“Yeah,” he said, grinning at me like we were friends or something. “We met before she started working at SLQ, actually.”

What? He wouldn’t.

Would he?

Lucy looked a little too curious. “Really? How did you meet?”

“It was one of those Halloween contests for pets.” He glanced at me. “It was fun.

Interesting.”

My heart started doing an odd tripping beat. “Fun” and “interesting” weren’t the words I’d used to describe it. Unless those were synonyms for mortifying.

“That’s neat,” she said. If she thought a Halloween contest for pets was actually lame— and I wouldn’t have blamed her if she did—she didn’t let on. “You guys both have pets?”

“I have a German shepherd,” Evan said.

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“Oh, I love German shepherds,” Lucy said. “My best friend had one when we were growing up.”

“He was dressed as Darth Vader,” I remarked, a little too forcefully. “He didn’t win a prize, did he?” I asked only because I was pretty sure he hadn’t.

Evan shook his head slightly, looking more amused than offended. “Well, he got a box of dog treats for participating.”

“That’s cute,” I said. “Like a consolation prize.”

His lips curved, drawing my stupid attention to them. Did he think I was funny? I definitely wasn’t trying to amuse him. “Don’t tell Vader that. He was really happy with his dog treats.”

Lucy laughed. “Is he actually named Vader?”

Evan shrugged. “Yeah.”

A woman I recognized from our department—one of the actuaries—walked up to us with a cocktail in her hand. “Hey, guys,” she said, but I noticed she was looking at Evan. “Are we playing darts? Everybody’s waiting.”

“Sure,” Evan said. “Do either of you want to play?”

Lucy shook her head.

“Dani?”

Hell no. I already felt awkward enough around him without adding pointy objects into the mix. “No thanks.” And then, for some stupid reason, I felt like I had to explain myself. “I’m not very coordinated with stuff like that. I might, you know, kill someone. A dart through the eye or the temple or something.”

He grinned. “If you change your mind . . .”

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“I won’t,” I said quickly.

Once they were gone, I turned back to the bar and took a big relieved gulp of my drink.

“How long has Evan worked at the company?” I asked Lucy, the question tumbling from my mouth before I could rein it back in.

“Five or six years,” she said. She glanced at me curiously and smiled. “If you like him, you’re going to have some competition.”

“Oh, I don’t,” I said immediately, horrified. “I was just curious.”

Lucy shrugged. She leaned closer to me, tilting her head toward the dartboard. “Natalie’s had her sights set on Evan for months now, but I don’t think he’s interested.”

“Natalie’s the one who came up to us?”

She nodded.

I watched the woman in question turn to set her drink down before she lined up her shot.

Dark hair tumbled around her shoulders as she sank the first dart straight into the bull’s-eye.

Wait, did Lucy mean not interested in Natalie or not interested in a general sort of way?

“Is he gay?” I asked, trying not to let hopefulness creep into my voice.

Lucy laughed. “No. He had a girlfriend for a while. Natalie is just used to men falling at her feet, and she’s pissed that Evan hasn’t. He’s too nice for her.”

“Nice?” I echoed. Laughing at me in the park wasn’t nice. Toying with me about the carnation wasn’t nice.

“Yeah,” she said, not noticing my skeptical look.

I took a longer swig of my drink. Bad idea. My eyes watered and I had to clear my throat a few times to keep from coughing.

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I tried to play it off by looking around the bar casually. Suddenly my breath hitched.

Drew was standing by one of the pool tables, a cue stick in hand. Drew, who’d told me he’d be staying late to finish up some work.

I didn’t want to think the worst, but it looked like he’d blown me off to drink and play pool.

But maybe he was just taking a break and I was jumping to conclusions. As I watched him laugh at something one of his friends said, my chest tightened. He never looked this happy when we were together anymore.

A deep breath to calm my pattering heart. A sip of my drink.

Part of me just wanted to slip out of the bar and pretend I hadn’t seen him. A big part of me. But another part, which might have been aided by my Jack and Coke, wanted answers.

I looked back at him again, undecided. And then it was decided for me because he glanced up at the same time.

We stared at each other for a few awkward seconds before he lifted his hand in an equally awkward wave.

“I’ll be right back,” I muttered to Lucy.

“Hi,” Drew said when I reached him. He’d set the cue stick down and moved away from the pool table while his friends started a new game.

“Hi.” Silence. I smoothed my trembling hands down my dress, picking off an imaginary piece of lint. I’d been planning to play it cool, maybe act like seeing him was some kind of fun surprise. Instead what came out of my mouth was, “You said you were too busy to do anything tonight.”

So much for playing it cool.

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“I am busy,” he answered, almost defensively. “So what? I can’t go out with friends sometimes?”

“It’s not that. It’s just . . . I never see you. I thought if you had free time you’d want to spend it with me.”

“Well I don’t,” he snapped.

I flinched. I heard him draw in a deep breath. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean . . . it’s just I thought it would be more fun to go out by myself.”

My arms folded across my stomach. I had a ridiculous urge to cry—I could even feel the backs of my eyes stinging. “I didn’t realize being around me was such a burden.”

“It’s not. I mean it wasn’t . . . it hasn’t been the same for a while.”

I stared at him and let out a tremulous breath. “What does that mean?”

He ran his hand through his hair. “You know what I mean. I think . . . I think we should take a break.”

“You mean break up.”

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Yeah, whatever you want to call it. I think it’s best if we see other people.”

Other people? Now he was bringing other people into it? Oh my God, he was saying all the things you heard about secondhand but that you never actually thought would be said to you.

Tears blurred my vision. “Best for you, maybe,” I said, my voice strangling.

He didn’t correct me. “I should have told you sooner. It was just . . . you moved from your mom’s house to be closer to me . . . and I felt bad. I couldn’t break up with you then.”

Did he think I was pathetic? That I couldn’t have handled him leaving me? “You should have if that was the way you felt!”

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“I know,” he admitted. “That’s my fault. But I don’t know what you expected. That everything would stay the same forever? We’re only twenty-three.”

Maybe I was pathetic. I didn’t think I could listen to any more of his explanation; every word was like a dagger to my heart. “Let’s just call this what it is—you want to fuck other people,” I said. I hardly ever used that word to refer to sex. Anger made me vulgar.

He groaned. “Maybe I do want to fuck other people. Maybe I’m bored. Why the hell is it so wrong to admit it? You would have just kept dragging along even if being with me didn’t make you happy.”

Was I happy with him? Had I been happy the past six months? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I hadn’t wanted anything to change. But it had anyway, whether I allowed it to or not.

“Fine,” I said. “We’re done. Talking about it isn’t going to help anything.”

“Dani, wait,” he began.

I didn’t allow him to finish. I turned and shouldered through the crowd. I even managed to hold it together long enough to tell Lucy I was taking off without her suspecting anything.

But about five steps outside the door, I started crying so hard I could barely see straight. I was pretty sure passersby were staring at me like I had the plague, but at least with my blurred vision I didn’t notice.

“Dani?”

For a second, I thought Drew had followed me out. I brushed at my eyes . . . to find Evan staring down at me, his forehead furrowed like he was concentrating on something.

Of course it was him. I should just get used to it now—he was going to be witness to all my worst embarrassments. He’d probably come out here to laugh at me.

“Were you watching me?” I asked thickly.

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“I wasn’t watching you,” he said. “I just noticed you talking to that guy. It looked like you were upset.”

“Did you hear anything?” I asked, my voice shrill.

He shook his head.

That was something, at least.

“Do you need a ride home?”

I peered at him. He didn’t look like he was fighting back laughter this time—but the expression of concern on his face was almost worse. Great . . . when I wasn’t accidentally hilarious, he felt bad for me. He must have thought I was a complete mess. The realization nearly made me start crying again.

“If I did need a ride, I wouldn’t ask you. Why are you even here? Are you like one of those weirdos who slows down to look at car wrecks?”

He tilted his head slightly. “You make it sort of hard to be nice to you.”

If my face wasn’t already hot from crying, it turned into a volcano then. Suspecting he pitied me wasn’t nearly as bad as knowing he did. “I didn’t ask you to be nice to me,” I practically hissed.

He held up his hands. “Then I rescind my offer.”

I stared at him blankly. “What?”

“I’m not driving you home, even if you ask.”

“Well . . . good!” I exclaimed, knowing I sounded like I was about five years old, but not able to help it.

“Okay,” he said.

I spun away and started walking down the sidewalk.

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“Dani?”

Despite every part of me rebelling at the idea of turning to glance at him, I did anyway.

“You sure you’re okay?”

In response, I lifted my middle finger, right there on the sidewalk with people gliding past me. The asshole smirked and then gave me a jaunty little wave in return, like the insult had sailed completely over him.

I continued walking, huffing to myself as I did.

But at least I didn’t feel like crying anymore.

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2

Chapter One Jake Jake threw his duffle bag in the back of his uncle’s truck, parked in the driveway. With school off for the summer, and the fishing boat he worked on under repairs, it was a perfect opportunity to visit his mom in Washington State. Kodiak Island just wasn’t the same without her there.

Uncle Mike walked out the front door of his house, Aunt Sara shuffling behind him in a pair of slippers and a thick robe. Her black hair spilled over her shoulders, wild and blowing in the coastal Alaskan breeze. “Now remember,” she said. “Don’t eat that disgusting airplane food.

And for God’s sake,” her shoulders slumped forward, “don’t get drunk on the plane.”

“Take it easy, Sara.” Uncle Mike patted Jake on the back. “The boy’s gonna be fine.” He leaned in close to Jake’s ear. “And do get drunk on the plane. It’ll make the flight go faster.”

“I heard that.” Aunt Sara smacked Uncle Mike on the arm, and then shook her index finger in the air. “I mean it. If your mom calls and tells me you showed up tipsy—” “He’s twenty-one. Let the boy enjoy his age.”

Jake rested his hand on Aunt Sara’s shoulder. “I’m not going to drink on the plane. Stop worrying.”

The lines in her forehead smoothed and she dropped her hand to her side. “Okay. Good.

Tell your mom we said hello and we love her, though I’ll probably just call her anyway.”

Jake chuckled. His aunt worried too much. She would have been such a good mom if she and Uncle Mike were able to have kids. Instead she fussed and worried over him.

Uncle Mike climbed into his truck and honked the horn. “Let’s go!” Jake waved to his aunt, who blew about ten thousand kisses as he sat in the truck and strapped in. “Good Lord,” Uncle Mike mumbled, starting the engine and shifting the car into reverse. “That woman.”

Jake grinned. “Yeah, she’s something, huh?”

Uncle Mike pulled out of the driveway and onto Spruce Cape Road. “You got everything you need for the trip? Need any cash?”

As Uncle Mike reached into his pocket, Jake extended his hand. “You know damn well I’m not taking any money from you.”

His uncle paused, and then placed his hand back on the steering wheel. “Right. Mr. Independent.”

“I just don’t like handouts, that’s all.”

“Your mother taught you well.” His tone turned solemn, and the wrinkles around his eyes deepened with a frown. “You be sure to let us know when you get any news from the doctors, okay?”

Jake nodded. “You’ll be the first person I call.”

“Sara’s been so worried about her.

“Don’t worry.” Jake rested his elbow on the armrest and his head in his hand. “I’m sure things will work out with Aunt Sara’s…” He searched for the word, at a loss for the technical term. “Hormone treatment thing.”

“If it doesn’t work out…” He shook his head, his jaw tight.

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3

“It’ll work out.”

Uncle Mike turned onto the main road toward the airport. Jake still had an hour before his flight, and since the airport was only about ten minutes away, he could take some time to relax. It would be the last he saw of Kodiak for weeks. This place had become a second home.

As they rode in silence, Jake watched the sea move and glitter in the distance. After he visited his mom, he’d go back to Kodiak to work on a fishing boat—if the old heap of junk was even seaworthy by then. His skipper was probably on board right now, trying to fix the engine with bubblegum and Scotch tape.

But Jake liked to fish. Sure, it was dangerous, and seriously kicked his ass most days, but it paid well. That was the important thing, and the whole reason he moved to Kodiak to begin with.

A few minutes later, Uncle Mike pulled into the drop-off area of the Kodiak Airport. He stopped the car, the eight-cylinder engine humming in park. “Well.” His uncle turned toward him in his seat and rested his elbow on the back of his chair. “You need help in with your bag?”

“I’m good.” Jake unbuckled, reached across the center console, and hugged his uncle. He pulled back and opened the door. “I’ll be back in a few weeks. Same routine.”

His uncle gave a two-finger salute as Jake stepped out of the car and shut the door. He grabbed his bag out of the back and slung it over his shoulder, watching his uncle’s truck pull away.

Jake drew in a deep breath, relishing the crisp, fresh air of the island. It was just one of the things he missed while in Washington. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and checked the time. There was still more than a half hour before his flight would board. Maybe he’d grab a few snacks from the vending machine inside and eat more than his share of mini Oreos.

Jake pushed through the double doors, into the tiny airport consisting of one large room, one baggage carousel, one rental car counter and a few rows of chairs. He pulled his ticket from his back pocket and compared his flight number with the blinking red numbers displayed on the screen.

Delayed. Of course.

Almost an hour later, the green light over the exit door indicated the delayed plane had finally arrived. Jake lingered near the taxidermied bear in a glass casing—something he’d seen so many times he barely paid attention to it anymore. He was eager to get on the plane flight to Anchorage, and then connect to Washington State.

The door swung open, and a man wearing a reflective vest ushered people inside.

Suddenly the airport went from empty to being packed with chattering tourists and locals alike.

Jake grabbed his bag off the floor just as a girl burst through the door, her arms crossed over her chest, teeth chattering, and waves of dark brown hair with blue tips scattered around her face.

Jake straightened his posture. She may have looked miserable, but damn was she beautiful.

Two people he assumed were her parents followed behind her.

He didn’t recognize any of them, and on Kodiak, that meant they were probably tourists.

People who would spend a few weeks in the peak of the season exploring the sights, whale watching, fishing, scouting to see a live Kodiak bear, and then go home. But he couldn’t complain. It was fishing and tourism that kept the island alive.

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4

The girl pushed hair out of her face; her nose and cheeks flushed red. He lowered his gaze. Not like he’d ever see her again. And in the end, it was for the best. He was on Kodiak to work. Anything else was just a distraction.

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5

Chapter Two Maya Maya sat on the floor of her bedroom, bathed in salty air from the coastal winds that blew through the open window. She leaned back and examined her empty room. The stark white walls felt sterile. So much colder than the seafoam green she’d painted it her senior year of high school.

No work in progress stood on an easel in the corner. No mirrors or cork boards with hundreds of photos arranged into a collage. Just boxes, the smell of paint, and the bittersweet memories she was leaving behind.

A knock on the door tore Maya out of her thoughts. Her effort to stand caused every muscle to scream in protest, sore from the last few weeks of packing and cleaning. She quickly gave up and slouched back. "Come in."

Her mother opened the door and peeked in the room. "Hey. The movers are here. Can I send them in?" Maya hadn't noticed until then just how much her mother had aged since Gracie's funeral. Her hair was duller, her skin less vibrant. Even the light in her eyes was nearly gone, leaving her gaze cold and lifeless.

"Yeah. I guess so." Maya mustered up the energy to push to her feet, groaning under the effort.

Her mother opened the door wider and flashed a tight-lipped smile. "You're too young to be getting old."

Maya rubbed the back of her neck with one hand, tilting her head from side to side. “I guess I missed the memo.”

Three men filed into the room. Their presence was only a reminder of the fact she was leaving California, with its perfect weather, half-naked surfers, amazing shopping and tanned beach boys, all to relocate to Kodiak-freaking-Alaska. Though she’d had months to wrap her mind around the concept, thinking about it still made her cringe.

Beth was the last to file in, holding a Styrofoam cup, her hair pushed back with a pair of sunglasses propped on her head. "One last boardwalk lemonade before you're off to Antarctica?"

She held up the drink with a grin.

Maya wanted hug her and hit her at the same time. She tried to think of something smart to say, but the ache in her heart proved to be too much of a distraction.

If Beth only knew how much Maya would miss her…

Beth lowered the drink, watching with arched brows and pursed lips. "Oh, come on." She crossed the room and hugged Maya tightly. Her blonde waves spilled over Maya's shoulders. "It won't be that bad. I was just kidding." She swallowed, her voice quivering. "You're so damn sensitive."

Maya squeezed her friend, then took the lemonade and sucked in a few mouthfuls.

Their favorite beach drink was just one of the many things she'd miss about her life in California.

A loud grunt made Maya spin. One of the movers half-dropped a box and had it balanced on his knee, searching for a better grip around the edges.

"Hey, be careful with that one." She set the drink on the windowsill and tore the box out of his hands.

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He shot her an annoyed look. "Just doin’ my job, lady."

"Yeah. Doing a good job destroying my stuff." Her tone, as sharp as it was, didn't nearly compare to how bad it would get if he gave her any more of his shitty attitude. She was in no mood, and some asshole mover was a perfect target to dump her frustrations on.

“Maya, don’t give the movers a hard time,” her mother said, still lingering near the door.

“Your dad’s worried we’ll be late for our flight. Let them do their job.”

Her mom always had to find something to criticize. Maya had learned to tune it out over the years, though it still scraped at her nerves.

Beth grabbed the other side of the box. "Let me help you."

"I can do it," Maya grunted under the weight.

"Tell that to the ten shades of red your face is turning."

Maya stole another glare at the mover while lowering the box to the ground. “Dickshit,” Maya mumbled.

Beth’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“You heard me,” she said loud enough for the mover to hear. “A dick and a shit—shoved together.” She sat beside the box and crossed her legs, carefully opening the top. "My painting supplies are in here. He could've damaged them."

“Well, I’d say being deemed a dick...”

“Dickshit,” Maya said again under her breath.

“Right. I’d say that’s punishment enough.” Beth leaned over her shoulder to get a better look. "Besides. It seems like everything's okay."

Maya exhaled, doing her best to ignore the movers as they emptied the rest of the room.

Her mother rested her hands on her hips and examined the space. "I don't think I've ever seen it without all those pictures and paintings on the walls."

Heaviness weighed on Maya’s chest. "What are you doing with all of Gracie's stuff?"

Her mother visibly tensed. Her soft brown eyes turned dark with grief. "They're uh..."

She pushed loose strands of hair away from her face. "They're going into storage," she said quietly.

"And Ginger?"

"She's a little foggy from the tranquilizer, but we couldn't get her into the carrier without it. You know how skittish she is. All the activity around here didn’t help." She displayed several red, welted scratches. "Damn cat fought us tooth and nail."

Maya's father poked his head in the room. "We're leaving at…" He glanced at his watch.

"Seventeen-hundred hours. That gives us only—” Maya lifted her hand. "Okay, Dad. I get it."

He stared at her for a moment, probably remembering how much she hated him barking military time every two seconds. "Right." He glanced at the girl beside Maya. "Hi, Beth."

She smiled warmly. "Hey, Mr. Reed."

"You staying until we leave?"

"If that's okay. I wanted to be here to say good-bye."

Her mother nodded. "Well, you girls have been friends since you were kids. A little distance won't put a stop to that." She glanced between them. "All right. I'll leave you two alone." She turned and shooed Maya's father out of the room, then closed the door softly behind them.

Maya hung her head. "'A little distance.' Is she serious?"

Beth swung her arm around Maya's shoulder. "I'm sure it'll be fun. Like Man vs. Wild, but

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every day."

"Oh God." She rubbed her eyes, burning from the lack of sleep. "Why couldn't my dad just find another job here in California?" She bent down and snatched the roll of packing tape on the floor. "I still think he applied for the transfer."

"Did he say that?"

"No, but it's just too much of a coincidence."

Beth sighed. "Hey, did that guy come and pick up your car?”

Maya leaned on the windowsill and nodded. “Yeah. Yesterday. But I’m not looking forward to being without my own ride.”

“You’ll get a new one. Don’t worry.” Beth sighed while she examined her. “Maya, you don't have to give up your entire future, everything you’ve worked so hard for, because you feel guilty. What happened to Gracie wasn't your fault. Punishing yourself is not going to fix anything.” She moved beside Maya and pumped shoulders with her. “And it wouldn't be so bad living with me, right? We both know I need someone to explain to the landlord why insanely loud sex noises keep coming from my apartment." She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

It may not have fixed anything to go, but it would make Maya feel better to know her parents wouldn’t be alone. Besides, something about the way her mother’s glazed eyes shone from across the room made Maya squeamish. She picked at the end piece of tape stuck to the roll.

"I just…I think my mom’s drinking again."

Beth glanced at the door and leaned in closer to Maya, whispering. "Are you sure? I mean, what makes you think so?"

"I found an empty bottle of wine in the recycling the other night."

"So? Your parents had a few glasses of wine at dinner."

Maya shrugged. "Yeah. Maybe." She paused. "Hopefully." She pushed off the wall and slipped the roll of tape over her hand, wearing it like a bracelet. "Plus, now that I’m leaving, I have to figure out a way to put myself through school. Maybe I'll get a part time job or something."

"Do they have any art schools there?"

Maya snorted. "There's one college. One," she said, holding up her index finger. "And it used to be a community college. It was just recently declared a university."

"Do they at least have an art program?"

"Even if they did, what's the point? It's not like graduating from art school on that stupid island will get me anywhere. Nobody will ever take me seriously. I'll have to major in something boring, like business management—" "Or dog sledding."

Maya rolled her eyes. "You're such a jerk."

Beth stifled a grin. "Well…" She bumped Maya's shoulder with hers again. "You're going to be fine. Just, look at it like an adventure."

But Maya couldn’t. No adventure would tear her away from her best friend, her life-long home, and a prestigious art institute she'd fought to get into on a full scholarship.

This move was about finding an escape—to distance themselves from the memories and the pain. She hoped it would work, or at least help, considering everything she was sacrificing to go.

"Come on." Beth wove her arm through Maya's and tugged her forward. "I'll walk you downstairs."

When they arrived outside, her father was loading the last of their bags into the trunk of

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their car. "All done. We have to get on the road if we want to make it to the airport in time."

Maya's mother hugged Beth and kissed her on the cheeks. "Take care of yourself, and make sure to tell your mom I said good-bye."

Beth nodded. "I will. She wanted to be here, but she had to work."

"That's all right. I'll be starting a new job myself when we get to Kodiak."

Hopefully the new job would do her mom some good and get her out of the house. Maya threw her bag into the backseat of her dad’s SUV. Beth tugged on Maya's ponytail and smiled. "Call me when you get there?"

Maya nodded, and then took one more long look at her home, recalling the memories they’d built there, and were now leaving behind.

She remembered it clearly—the day her mom brought Gracie home from the hospital.

Maya was fifteen, and still in denial that her mother had another baby after so long. But when she looked at Gracie for the first time—with her light-brown eyelashes and blotchy baby skin—it was love at first sight.

To leave without her baby sister felt so wrong. The ache in Maya's heart deepened.

Her mother climbed in the passenger seat as her father started the car. "Let's go," he called through the open window.

Maya reluctantly joined her parents in the car. Beth closed the door as she buckled and waved, Maya's father pulling away from the curb.

Her father gripped the steering wheel tightly. "Here we go, Reed family. A new start to our new lives."

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Chapter Three Maya Though the inside of the airport wasn’t much to look at, at least it was warm. The single room was little more than several rows of chairs, chipped paint and old Berber carpet. The rental car counter read, Rent a Heap.

Maya’s jaw dropped open. "You've got to be kidding." The entire airport was smaller than the cafeteria in her school—or what used to be her school.

She turned and came face-to-face with the bellybutton of a taxidermied grizzly bear standing on its hind legs. She scanned up its furry belly to the enormous head, the animal towering at what must have been fourteen feet tall. She stepped back. "What the hell is that?"

"It's a Kodiak bear," her dad said from behind her. "They live all over the island."

Maya raised her eyebrow at the animal's six-inch incisors protruding from its perpetual snarl. "We're not going to see any, are we?" She turned with the hope he'd laugh and tell her it was all just a big joke. Or a bad dream.

She'd settle for either.

"It's possible. Alaska is the final frontier." He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

"I'm going to get our bags."

The airport attendant’s voice blared from the loudspeaker. “All passengers boarding flight 890 to Anchorage, Alaska, please get out your tickets and form a line. We will begin boarding momentarily.”

Maya continued to examine the bear until her focus shifted through the glass to a guy standing on the other side. His dark brown hair curled out from under his beanie and brushed against the top of his ears. He glanced at her. She froze. He smiled, and so did his eyes. She’d never seen eyes so blue.

He watched her through the glass, then gestured hello with a nod of his head. She forced a nervous smile, still too cold and freaked out from the move to conjure up any charm. What would be the point, anyway? He was about to get on a plane, probably to somewhere warm and wonderful like California. A moment later, he fell in line, boarding pass in hand.

“About ready?” her dad called from the other side of the room.

Maya turned, a knot forming in her stomach, as the pile of luggage her father pulled off the carousel continued to grow. She needed fresh air before she got sick.

With a few steps Maya pushed through the double doors and gripped the railing, scanning the distant hills dotted with spruce and pine trees.

Not a single palm tree in sight.

But she could smell the ocean, and though the air was different here—crisp and clean, with no humidity to cling to her skin—at least the salty breeze was something familiar.

The Coast Guard charter bus pulled up, tearing her focus away from the horizon. Her father burst through the double doors with their bags on a cart, her mother close behind with Ginger’s carrier in hand.

"Lieutenant Reed?" The driver stepped out of the van, smiling brightly. "Nice to finally meet you." He shook her father's hand. The two men loaded their bags. Maya followed her mother into the shuttle bus and slid to the back seat, overwhelmed by the view.

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Untouched mountains and marshes stretched for miles. She leaned closer to the window, peering into the sky where an American bald eagle soared in circles. She’d never seen one in the wild. It was the first of many new things. If she hadn’t Googled the island and checked out the pictures before they arrived, she would have expected it to be covered in ice and snow.

Thankfully Kodiak was in southern Alaska, so at least during the spring and summer, it was green and lush.

Her dad and the driver finished loading their bags and climbed in. Everyone chatted while Maya did her best to tune them out and give herself a silent pep talk before they arrived at their new home—God only knew what that would be like. The Coast Guard helped her dad find the house online, and since they only had a few months to pack and move, he had jumped on the first place available.

She slumped in her seat. Maybe it wouldn't be as terrible as she imagined. There was probably a lot to do during her free time, like camping and fishing. She could focus on her art.

Maybe her mom was right. If she tried to look at it like an adventure, this upside down circus ride might end up on her list of positive experiences.

The charter bus rounded a corner, revealing a town in the distance. The harbor housed old fishing boats anchored to a wooden dock. Seagulls and bald eagles shared the skies over glittering waves. Then her gaze moved to the dingy houses and buildings. It seemed like the entire city was packed into one cluster of streets, though in this case, she used the term ‘city’ loosely. No skyscrapers or shiny vehicles with chrome trim. No white, glittering sidewalks, rollerbladers or bicyclists. Just a light fog, grey skies, and a few people on the sidewalks dressed in heavy jackets and work boots.

“Is this it?” Maya asked.

"Pretty much. This is the town of Kodiak," the driver said, watching her in the rearview mirror. "The Coast Guard base is about twenty minutes that way." He pointed down a two-lane road.

Maya shifted in her seat. "What about the house?"

The driver made a left turn. "We're almost there." The charter bus turned up a hill, then pulled into a driveway lined with trees. They slowed to a stop in front of a two-story house with a wraparound porch and white shutters.

Their home in Long Beach may have only been a small ranch, the paint weathered after years of abuse from the humid, salty air, but at least it was inviting.

From what she read online, this house was a new build, which meant nobody had ever lived in it before. No Thanksgiving dinners around the dining room table. No slumber parties spent giggling and whispering about boys. No foggy mirrors after a hot shower, or stains on the carpet from a new puppy. Just nails, drywall, shingles, and a new coat of paint. The house was a shell, waiting for life to be breathed into it. Maya just wasn’t sure if their family had any left.

The driver shut off the engine and turned in his seat; his arm rested on the back of his chair. "Welcome home." *** It took a couple of weeks to settle in. Maya spent her days unpacking, painting, and playing with Ginger. But the peace and quiet was anything but. She hated to be bored. Her father had been at the base non-stop, which didn’t surprise her. He had become a workaholic. Her mother spent the last few weeks unpacking and preparing for her job as clerk at the hotel

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overlooking St. Paul Harbor.

Maya strolled into the kitchen where her mother sat at their new dinette table. Maya pulled up a chair, tapping her fuchsia-painted fingernails on the wood surface. At least back home she would be busy with school, or trips to the beach with Beth to check out the hot guys.

They could have gone to a bonfire or two. The fact that she now shared two cars with her parents only made matters worse. Her dad's SUV was almost never available since he was gone so much, and with her mom starting her new job, they'd end up squabbling over the only transportation until Maya found something cheap to call her own.

Maya sighed. "So..."

Her mother glanced up at her from the black and white pages of the Kodiak Daily Mirror.

"Good morning," she said flatly, her lips tightly pressed.

Maya stopped tapping her fingers. Something was up. That placid tone of hers was a dead giveaway she was pissed. "Everything okay?"

Her mother set the newspaper down on the table. "I don't know, Maya. Why don't you tell me? Is everything okay?"

So much wasn't okay, it was hard to pick out just one thing.

"I got this in the mail today." Her mother tossed an open envelope in front of her.

Maya’s body rushed with heat.

Her mother set her elbows on the tabletop and rubbed her temples with her fingertips.

"Why didn't you tell us you'd lose your scholarship if you moved out of state?"

Maya picked up the mail and held it the air. "Why did you open this?"

Her mother paused and looked up at her. "Are you serious?" When Maya didn't respond, she leaned back in her chair. "I thought it was your last semester's grades. I didn't realize it was...private."

Maya set the letter back on the table. Nearly a year of silence, and suddenly her mother cared again? It had been almost eleven months since Gracie was gone, and just that long since the last time her mother showed even an atom’s amount of interest in her life. "What would you have had me do, Mom? It was either stay in California, alone, or go with you. Those were my choices.”

A deep sigh escaped her mother's chest. "All that work you did in high school. All of those community service hours to bulk up your college applications." She raised her hand in the air, shaking her head. "Everything, down the drain."

"You think I don't know that already?" Maya leaned forward, gripping the table. "It was all of my hard work that was wasted. My hours. My life."

Her mother's eyes widened, and then narrowed. "What happened affected all of us, Maya.

It ruined all of our lives. Not just yours."

"I..." Maya's voice caught in her throat, her defenses stripped away from the sharpness of her mother's tone. Past experience told her that any attempt at a normal conversation with her mother would result in a screaming match, followed by a three-day stretch of silence. It was pointless. "I didn't mean it like that."

Her mom pushed out of her chair, and her features softened. She glanced at the letter. "I don't know what you're planning to do with your life now." She picked up the empty cup from the table and set it in the sink. "Any ideas?" she asked, her back turned.

Maya stood; her mother’s shoulders slouched as she leaned on the counter, gazing out at the sea.

"I was thinking, maybe..." In all honesty, she had no plan. She was winging this whole

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thing with the hope she'd stumble through the next couple of months without screwing up too much, and make it out the other side okay. But her mother was clearly worried, with good reason.

Now that they were on Kodiak, there was only one option. Maya cleared her throat. "They have a community—I mean, a university here." She tugged on her earlobe, playing with the three rows of piercings. "I was thinking of checking it out. Getting my credits transferred. I can probably start as a sophomore if I change my major."

Her mother turned and smiled softly, which gave Maya a flicker of hope. "Sounds like you've given this some thought."

"I'll check it out tomorrow. Maybe the admissions office will set me up with a campus tour." She shrugged.

"All right. Well…" Her mother grabbed her keys off the counter and jingled them in the air. "I'm off to my first day of work. Wish me luck."

Maya waved as her mother walked out the back door.

Kodiak College it was.

Fantastic.

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Chapter Four Jake Jake stepped off the plane into the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. With his phone in hand, he waited to catch some signal.

One bar.

He'd take what he could get. It was ancient, as far as cell phones go, but until he could afford a new one, he was stuck with it.

His phone buzzed with a text. He flipped it open to read the message from his mom.

Be there in about twenty minutes. Sorry.

Jake snapped his phone shut and shoved it in his pocket. He wasn’t surprised, considering her loser boyfriend probably didn’t want to unglue his fat ass from the couch. At least the extra twenty minutes would give him just enough time to get his bag and make it to the pickup area without breaking a sweat.

The carousel spit out his duffel sack almost immediately. It took another ten minutes to get to the rotating glass doors, chauffeuring him outside to the covered sidewalk, into the humid summer air. Car engines echoed in the overpass, the metallic roof reflecting bright lights in the darkness of the night. He glanced at the time on his phone, and then continued to search the line of cars crawling by.

The rusted El Camino pulled around the corner—the beast, as Jake had fondly named his old car.

He adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder and stepped to the edge of the curb. The car slowed to a stop, and Jake bent down to the open passenger window. His mom looked so much older, so much thinner than the last time he’d seen her. "Where's Wayne?"

She smiled brightly, waving him in. “He's at work. Hop in.”

His grip around the strap of his bag tightened. “You shouldn't be driving. Get out. I'll drive home.”

She glanced in the rear view mirror. "But there's people waiting for us to move."

"I don't care, Mom." He rounded the back of the car. "Fucking Wayne," he mumbled. Her loser boyfriend couldn't even pick him up from the airport.

She stepped out of the driver's seat and threw her arms around him. He dropped his bag to hug her back, enveloping her. He frowned. She'd lost more weight than he expected, and her hair smelled like cigarettes. "How are you feeling?" He pulled back to examine the sleepy glaze of her eyes, and the dark rings lurking underneath. "Are you smoking again?"

She gathered her grey-streaked auburn hair over her shoulder. "After all this time, that's all you've got to say?" Her smile widened while she walked around to the passenger door. "Some things haven't changed." She kicked at the car. "Still broken."

The door hadn't opened from the outside since he’d bought the damn thing. Hell, he only paid five hundred dollars for it, and it had gotten them everywhere they needed to go.

She slapped the sun-bleached roof with an open palm. "Well, come on. We have some catching up to do." Jake tossed his bag in, leaned over the bucket seat and opened the passenger door from the inside. His mom sat and shut the door, then clapped her hands in delight. "Okay.

Now, tell me everything."

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Jake slammed his door and kicked the car into drive, pulling away from the curb.

"Well—" She gasped. "What is that in your mouth?" She pinched his face between her fingers, turning his head toward her while he strained to keep his eyes on the road.

"It's called a tongue ring, Mom." The words came out in a slur with his cheeks still pinched together.

She let go, shaking her head. "That thing in your eyebrow wasn't enough? You had to put a hole in your tongue too?"

He grinned. "It was my birthday present to myself."

Her features sobered. "Oh." She rested her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry I wasn't with you, honey. Did you get the card I sent?"

He made a left turn onto the highway. It would take about twenty minutes to get home, and he couldn't help but wonder what condition the house would be in this time. On his last visit one of the windows was broken, shattered glass still scattered in the lawn that had grown almost three feet tall.

"Yeah, I got the card. Thanks."

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to send you any money. Things have been...tight."

He frowned. "Doesn’t worker’s comp cover some of the expenses while the doctors are trying to figure out what's going on?"

"Well, it does. But the medications are expensive, and the copay is pretty high." She forced a smile. "Enough about that." She turned toward him. "Tell me what you've been doing.

What's your apartment like? How's school? Aunt Sara tells me you visit her and Uncle Mike all the time. She said your grades are fantastic." She pinched his cheek again, this time with a more gentle touch. "My little genius."

He wasn't satisfied with her explanation about the missing cash, but he'd let her have this time to be happy. She had been through enough shit in the last six months to bring anyone's spirits down.

"Aunt Sara and Uncle Mike are good. They told me to tell you ‘hi,’ and they love you."

She smiled. "And what about work?"

He shrugged. "It's work. My skipper knows a lot, and I'll be on the same boat this year, so that's good."

"You know I don't like you working on those fishing boats. It's so dangerous. I saw this one TV show about catching crab—" "I don't work on a crab boat." Jake flicked on the blinker, preparing to exit the highway.

"I'm on a salmon boat, remember?"

"Oh, that's right." She exhaled and rubbed her fingers over her forehead. "My memory isn't what it used to be. At least you make some decent money."

"Enough to afford rent, bills, plus a little extra to send to you when I can."

She rested her back against the seat. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

With the shadows from the street lamps flickering over her face as they drove, he was able to see how prominent her cheekbones had become. "As long as you're okay. That's all I'm worried about."

She patted his hand resting on his leg. "Just me and you, kid."

Jake clenched his jaw. "And Wayne." His cold tone wiped the smile from her lips. "Why don't you kick him out? He's not doing anything but drinking away the money I send for food."

Her wide eyes made it clear she didn't expect him to know what had been happening to the cash.

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So much for letting her have her moment. "Come on, Mom. If you were getting the worker’s comp money and what I send, you wouldn't have a problem paying the utility bills that I had to cover last month."

She ran her hand down the length of her arm. "He's looking for work—" "I thought he was at work now?"

She didn't respond.

Jake tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Or is he really out drinking, and didn't give a shit if you picked me up, even after that seizure you had last month?"

Her silence spoke volumes. *** Jake peered up at the sky, thankful for Seattle's trademark dreary atmosphere and the shade it provided. It meant he could push the rusted, piece-of-shit mower for another twenty minutes without getting hit in the face with the raw stench of the neighbor's sewage leak.

Although the yard wasn’t huge, the grass had grown out of control again and was taking twice as long to mow, especially since the damn mower kept choking and stalling out.

He wiped away the sweat beading on his forehead and glanced back at his mom's trailer.

It sat on a plot just large enough to host a small flower garden, some lawn gnomes, and the new retractable awning. The shine of the awning's frame clashed with the dingy exterior of the trailer's aluminum walls, painted white too many times to count.

Even after his mom's efforts to make it look like a real house, the place was obviously a dump. The wind chimes sang as a breeze cooled Jake’s skin.

He turned back to cursing the mower. If he didn't get it to work, they'd probably end up with field rats. He paused, and turned to see a gaping hole still punched in the flimsy, lattice porch trim.

Wayne was supposed to fix that damn hole a month ago. His mom called and said he kicked it in during one of his drunken fits. Now they probably had a whole family of raccoons nested under their porch.

The screech of the screen door made Jake turn to see his mother in the doorway, still in her pajamas. "Hey, honey. You're getting an early start today."

The sun broke through the clouds and beat down on his bare shoulders. "Yeah. I couldn't stand looking at the lawn anymore."

She raked her fingers through her tussled hair. "Thanks, sweetie. I know it's a little...unkempt. But Wayne's been real busy with work and all. When he comes home, he just wants a nice meal and a cold beer."

Her gentle smile and warm eyes tore at him. She deserved so much better than this shit.

He turned back toward the mower and grabbed the pull-cord. With one solid jerk, the mower sputtered and died. He stood back up and wiped his forehead, the humidity stripping away his patience.

He rolled the mower to the side of the porch. "What is it that Wayne does again? The last time he brought in any money was, what, two months ago?" He knelt down and checked the machine’s oil level. Plenty there, but no gas in the tank. Of course.

"I helped him fill out five applications just last week." She smiled as if that explained it all.

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"Well if he doesn't show up for his interviews, the applications won't do much good." There was no use wasting his time with the mower until they got some more fuel.

His mother gripped the weathered railing as he stood and walked past the porch. "I know it's not your job to support me. I'm your mom. I should be sending you money."

He climbed the two stairs in a single step. Her frail shoulders could barely support the weight of his hands draped over them. "Did you take your medicine this morning?" She nodded.

"How many more days do you have left before your next refill?"

"About a week."

He could do so much more for his mom if he didn't have to worry about Wayne's lazy ass coming home every night, eating all the food in the fridge and spending every last cent at the damn bar. And God only knows what else. Jake had seen Wayne's type before. He was the kind of guy who found a woman with some money and latched onto her. That much wasn't hard to figure out, though his mom couldn’t see it.

The puffiness around her eyes told him she hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep in days. She tilted up her face, shame muddling her gaze. "It's not as easy as you think. You don't know what it's like, being sick and a single mom. Wayne may be a whole-lotta-things, but he's the best kinda man I can find."

Jake scoffed and dropped his hands away from her shoulders. "Yeah. He's doing a good job. Where the hell was Wayne when you had your seizure?"

More tears filled her eyes. "I'm sorry. I hate that that happened."

He stepped back, heat flaring in his chest. "Don't be sorry for being sick, Mom. But you could afford some extra health insurance if you ditched the dead weight." He rubbed the back of his throbbing neck. "Seriously. Where's your common sense?" Jake relaxed his tense muscles, realizing his tone had taken a sharper edge than he intended. It was just so frustrating. She didn't see that Wayne didn't give a damn about her, or anyone but himself.

The unmistakable roar of Wayne's shitty Harley tore through the air. Jake turned, watching as he sped down the gravel road of the trailer park. Wayne pulled to a stop in the patch of freshly mowed grass.

"You better go finish the lawn now," his mother said quietly, a sense of urgency in her tone.

Jake glared across the yard and slipped his T-shirt back on to cover at least some of his tattoos. Wayne always bitched about his tats. Apparently the guy's taste in ink was limited to naked women straddling eight balls, and skulls with flames. At least Jake's tattoos meant something.

Wayne dismounted his bike. Sweat drizzled down his bald head, over the roll of his neck and into the curly hair on his chest that pushed from under his dingy T-shirt with the sleeves torn off. He glanced at the dead mower. "What's this shit all about?" He spit a thick gob of brown mucus into the grass.

"Jake was just mowing the lawn. Isn't that nice?" The underlying fear in her voice wasn't hard to recognize.

Jake squared his stance.

"It'd be nice if it didn't look like you gave the mower to a fucking retard."

"It ran out of gas," Jake stated.

"Well go get some more, then." He dismounted his bike and stomped across the yard, his steel-toe boots battering the wood as he climbed the porch steps. He passed Jake, staring him in the eyes as he slowed. He pushed through the front door, letting it slam behind him.

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Jake turned to his mom. "I'm not buying gas for the mower," he said quietly. "I can barely afford gas to get to the grocery store and back. If he wants the lawn mowed, tell him to pitch in and get the gas himself."

She rested her hand on his shoulder. "You know I can't—" "Sheryl! Isn't there anything to eat in this goddam pigsty?"

His mom winced.

Jake worked his jaw. "How much longer are you going to put up with this shit?"

She opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by the screen door slamming open against the siding. Wayne stood in the threshold. "Don't you hear me yelling from inside, or are you deaf?"

She shook her head and forced a smile. "Sorry. I didn't hear you. I'm coming inside in just a sec. I was just spending a few minutes with Jake before he left to go see some friends."

That must have been his cue to leave.

"Fine, but don't take too long. I'm hungry and tired from working all night."

"Working?" Jake couldn't hold himself back. The fat fuck had some nerve saying he was at work when he smelled like alcohol and cheap perfume. "You mean handing out tips at the strip club and shooting pool with your biker buddies?" He stepped forward. "Because I'm pretty damn sure if you were working, you'd have some money to help out around here." His index finger jabbed in the air with his words.

Wayne's grip on the door tightened, the skull ring on his finger taunting Jake with a wicked smile. "You fucking stupid, boy? You come around here thinkin’ you're the man of the house just because you make some big money on a shitty fishing boat?"

Jake noticed his mom’s hands tremble, now tucked under her chin. He flattened the anger in his tone before he scared her even further. "I did make decent money before I had to move back here to make sure my mom doesn't die while you're out partying."

Wayne's face flushed red as he glared at Jake's mom. "You better get your boy under control before I beat some sense into him."

She nodded. "Just...give me a sec, okay?"

Wayne stormed back into the house. She turned toward Jake, her eyes searching his.

"Honey," she whispered. "You can't move back here. Are you crazy?"

"Well what the hell do you expect me to do?" His tone matched hers, but with rage simmering just under the surface. "I'll get a job somewhere and at least make sure you get your medicine. I can handle the money. Maybe even save a little so we can get out of this rundown shit-hole."

Her fingers curled around his sweat-drenched shirt. "Are you sure? You wanna leave your school?"

Shit. He forgot about school. He worked so hard to get as far as he did, attending a few day classes and some online courses so he would graduate faster. It was never his plan to settle down in Kodiak, but after a few summers of working on the fishing boat, the money was so good he could finally give his mom a life, and himself a future. But no matter how good the money was, he couldn't leave her.

Not now.

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Chapter Five Maya Maya debated between a tank top and a T-shirt, neither of them suitable for keeping her warm in the chilly coastal winds. She was still trying to adjust to the weather change, but as of right now, Kodiak's cool, sixty-five degrees was more like California in the winter. God only knew what the island would be like in January.

Worse, once the really cold temperatures hit, it would cost her a fortune to buy some appropriate clothes. Last week she was able to snag the car for an afternoon and check out one of the local clothing stores off Upper Mill Bay Road—one of the only main streets in town. She grabbed a Roxy sweater off the rack, but put it back when she saw it was priced at one hundred and eighty dollars.

One hundred and eighty dollars.

She'd been buying Roxy wear for years and never paid more than fifty bucks for a hoodie.

These island people had to be insane.

Online shopping it is.

Ginger jumped onto her bed, fluffy golden fur with white paws and a white patch around her nose. Her tail curled around the T-shirt, and she let out a quiet meow before plopping on the bed and rolling onto her back.

Maya smiled. "Good choice, Ginger." She put on the shirt with a decal of a girly skull, gripping a rose between its teeth, with a lopsided polka dot bow propped on its head. She slipped on a few colored bangles, some dark-blue skinny jeans, and her favorite pair of flats with turquoise sequins on the top.

"Wish me luck." She scratched Ginger between the ears. Her soft purrs eased Maya's nerves. "It must be so easy to be a cat." Ginger swooshed her tail and blinked slowly. "Enjoy your nap. I'm going to see if I'll ever have a career, or if I'll be stuck selling my paintings on the street for the rest of my life."

She walked downstairs into the kitchen and grabbed the keys off the counter. The "university" was only a few minutes away, giving her time to enjoy a cup of coffee before she left. When she leaned against the counter, her leg brushed against the recycling bag. Something heavy clanked against the bottom cabinet. Maya noticed a dark-green bottle showing through the stretched plastic bag.

A knot wrenched her belly, and she gripped her mug between her hands.

She bumped it again and winced when it made the same hollow, heavy sound.

She was thirteen when her mother got clean and sober—right before she got pregnant with Gracie. The years she spent watching her mother's mood fluctuate, her temper flare, and her love be completely conditional on whether or not she had wine was enough to make the empty bottle a real concern.

But her mother hated talking about her problem, and everyone was already stressed.

Hopefully things wouldn't get any worse and she wouldn't be forced to bring it up to her dad the next time she saw him—whenever that would be.

Maya left her house and drove to the school, which took an entire eight minutes. As she walked through the empty lot, she wondered if they'd be open so close to the start of fall

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semester. Thankfully the door wasn't locked. When she approached the front desk, she was greeted by exactly no one. Maya plucked a pamphlet from the display and read out loud.

"Accounting, computer systems technology, nursing, bookkeeping, welding, early childhood education—" She lifted her head at the sound of shoes squeaking over the tile floors.

A brunette, plain but pretty, smiled and leaned on the counter. "Sorry about that. Can I help you?"

"Yeah." Maya shoved the pamphlet in her sling purse. "Where do I need to go to schedule a campus tour? We just moved here and I'm thinking of signing up for fall semester."

"Oh." The woman grabbed some papers and set them on the counter. "Here are the forms you'll need, and I can give you the tour right now."

Finally, something was going right.

The woman leaned over the counter and pointed to a pair of double doors. “Over there is the cafeteria and down both halls are classrooms. No gym, one chemistry lab, the library and a the welding shop, all located through those doors." She pointed to the right, then slapped her hands on the counter and shrugged. "That's it. Anything else you need?"

Maya slowly turned and started toward the exit. "A new life," she mumbled. How the hell was she going to earn any kind of respectable degree in a college that was smaller than her old high school? Even if most people couldn't make a life for themselves painting, she could. She had dreams of owning her own studio one day. She had plans for her life before she moved, and now her future was a void of white space. A sick heat settled in her gut as she pushed through the doors.

It was a mistake to have left California. Maybe her school would still take her back. She could always hop a plane and move in with Beth. Settle back into her old life. It might not be too late to make it all right again.

Maya stalked across the parking lot and climbed in her car. She gripped the steering wheel, her eyes closed, focused on slowing her heartbeat. "Shit." She rested her head back on the seat, then thumped against the headrest a few times, sending strands of hair to fall around her face. "Shit, shit, shit." Her phone buzzed, making her jump. She dug it out of her bag and read the text from Beth.

Hey, hon. How's Iceland?

Maya scoffed as she read the message, then dotted her fingers over the keypad.

Expensive, cold, and small.

I hope everything isn't small, if u know what I mean. ;) Maya grinned. Leave it up to Beth to assume she'd already hooked up with some Alaskan guy. She texted back.

I'll let u know when I find out. Miss u like crazy.

Me 2. Call me later.

Maya slipped her phone in her purse and started the engine. Beth was always so optimistic. It was an admirable quality, but one Maya just didn't have. The glass wasn't always half-full. Not for her anyway. So instead of hoping for the best, she chose to be a realist.

Prepare for the worst, and if it happened, at least she was mildly prepared. If not, she was pleasantly surprised. Either way she usually came out ahead. Because the fact was, you got what life dealt you, and you just had to make the best of it—good, bad, or indifferent.

She pulled out of the parking lot and drove down the main road, passing the only theater with just one screen and two movies with a rotating schedule. Maya still had trouble believing the town was so small. It seemed to be forgotten by the rest of the world, the stores thriving only

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because everyone was trapped on the island with no other options.

She turned onto her street and slowly applied more pressure to the gas pedal, starting the climb up her ridiculously steep driveway—necessary since their house was built beside the mountain’s dropped off, giving them the best view of the Pacific Ocean. It was one of the few perks of living there.

Maya parked and climbed out of the car with no idea what she’d say to her mom when she went inside. She played with the keys between her fingers, her worries drowned out by the rhythmic hum of the sea in the distance, waves crashing against the black cliffs. Every time she admired the endless view of the ocean, her heart ached, and she could almost see Gracie's bright eyes and freckled cheeks.

Maybe moving out of Long Beach took them away from the place where Gracie drowned, but it was clear after the first week of living in Kodiak that the pain would follow them wherever they'd go. California or Alaska, it didn't matter. Gracie's laughter would still echo in her dreams, and Maya would always miss her.

Her breath hitched. They'd never get her back, and Maya had to live with that for the rest of her life.

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Chapter Six Jake Jake sat in his El Camino, his eyes burning after a twelve-hour shift. The only light came from a flickering street lamp set outside the entrance of the tiny Mexican restaurant, where he worked bussing tables. Even if he pulled another month of double shifts, he'd never be able to make as much here as he did on the fishing boat.

He reached into the pocket of his stained apron and pulled out some bills, counting them before groping for the loose change.

"Fifteen, sixteen..." He fumbled through the coins in the palm of his hand, then closed his fingers around them and sat back in his seat. "Nineteen dollars and forty-six cents." His hands dropped in his lap. He barely made enough to cover his gas for the week.

Jake shoved the money in his pocket and gripped the steering wheel, resting his forehead between his hands before closing his eyes, tempted to drift off to sleep. If it weren't for the online classes he was still taking, he'd be able to dedicate more time to work. But he couldn't drop out.

His mom did exactly that when she got pregnant with him at seventeen, and of course his deadbeat dad didn't stick around. Sure, the guy was probably just some horny little fucker at the time, scared shitless when his girlfriend told him she was pregnant. Jake couldn't imagine running out on a woman like that, and worse, your kid.

Jake's head popped up when a tap rattled against the glass. He cranked down the driver side window. "What's up, Marco?"

The short Spanish guy, who doubled as a cook and a dishwasher at the restaurant, stood in the rainy night air, the apron still tied snugly around his waist. "Hey. You okay, bro?"

Hell no, he wasn't okay.

"I'm good. What's up?"

"Nada. Just checkin’ up on you." He slipped a soft-pack of cigarettes out from his pocket and lifted it to his mouth, pulling out a smoke. "I'm headed back to mi familia." He lit the cigarette with a heavy Zippo lighter. The flame danced, casting yellow and orange highlights over his features. He snapped the lid shut.

Jake gestured toward the restaurant with a nod of his head. "Thanks for hooking me up with this job, by the way."

"Man." Marco took a long drag, blowing smoke out of his nose. "This job fucking sucks.

But it's something." He shrugged.

"You wouldn’t happen to know of any other work?"

Marco shook his head. "This is it, bro."

Jake wasn't the only one having a hard time making ends meet, and he wasn't the only one with responsibility, either.

"Hey. How's your mom?" Jake turned his car off and glanced at the gas gauge, teetering just below half a tank.

"Good. Same old crazy-ass Latin woman.” Marco chuckled. “Pops is getting old, fat and happy, eating and drinking beer.” He drew in another long drag from his cigarette.

Jake glanced at the time. If he didn't leave now, he wouldn't have time to finish his assignment that was due tomorrow. And his online chemistry professor wasn't the type to let him

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turn it in late without docking major points from his grade. "All right man. I have to go."

"Okay, bro. Take it easy. See you tomorrow."

Jake dropped his head. "Yeah. Another double shift." He started the car and pulled away, his stomach growling as he turned onto the main road. He hadn't eaten anything since the glass of milk and some strawberry Pop-Tarts that morning.

His phone rang. He flipped it open and pressed it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, Jake. How ya doin’?"

A heavy weight settled in his chest. "Hey Wes. What's going on?"

"Just wondering if you're gonna be comin’ back to join the crew? Haven't heard from ya since ya left."

"Man." He pressed harder on the gas, thinking of all the money he could make in just one summer on the boat. "I, uh...I don't think so. My mom's sick. She really needs me to stick around."

"So you're not coming back? When the hell did you decide that?"

"Just the other day. I wasn't expecting to stay, but things got bad here and I'm kinda stuck."

"I know you didn't make a whole lot last year, but this season's supposed to be better, and I just got the boat all fixed up. I need you on board."

He'd made nearly twelve grand last summer on the rickety old boat. Sure, he smelled like fish for three months straight, but it was worth it. He groaned. "You're killing me. You know I want to, but—" He considered it for a second, gripping the steering wheel even harder. "I really can't, Wes. I'm sorry."

The old skipper mumbled a chain of curse words. "All right. Looks like I'll be lookin’ for another goddamn greenhorn this year."

Jake grinned, remembering his first season of Wes shouting at him every two seconds, watching while he slipped all over the deck, his foot got caught in the rope and he nearly fell overboard. "Yeah. I know how much you hate training rookies."

"Damn right. And if I get another pain-in-the-ass-know-it-all like you, I'm holdin’ you responsible."

Jake chuckled. "Good luck with that, Cap'."

"Yeah, yeah." A second later, the line went dead.

He snapped his phone shut and tossed it in the seat beside him. The payoff from that job could have carried them through most of the year if he stretched it enough.

The phone rang again. “Damn it, Wes." He answered the phone. "I’m sorry, Wes, but—" "Hey, honey." His mom sounded sleepy.

"Oh. Hi. What's up?"

"I forgot to ask if you could pick up my medicine on the way home. I hope it's not too late."

He glanced at the digital display in his dashboard. Eleven o'clock. "Where did you call it in to?"

"The twenty-four hour pharmacy by our house."

"Okay. I got it."

"Thanks, sweetie. Sorry for making you run more errands. I'm sure you're real tired."

And hungry.

"Don't worry about it. See you when I get home."

He shut his phone and peered down the road, searching for the pharmacy sign in the dark.

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A few minutes later he spotted it. He pulled into the parking lot and collected his tips, tossing his apron into the back seat.

When he walked into the pharmacy, the woman behind the counter smiled and yawned.

"How can I help you?" She blinked slowly and sipped her Red Bull.

"I need to pick up a prescription for Sheryl Coleman."

The short brunette turned and plucked the bag from the baskets, and then scanned the barcode. The cash register beeped. "Seventy-nine dollars and eighty two cents."

Jake stopped counting his money. "What?"

She pointed to the total on the display screen. "Seventy-nine eighty-two."

"Is there a generic brand you can give her instead? Something cheaper?"

She typed on the computer, shaking her head. "We do have a generic, but with the amount your insurance covers on this one, it would be more expensive."

Jake shoved the forty dollars back in his pocket. "Can I pick it up later?"

She nodded and filed the prescription back into its basket. "It'll be here."

His mind raced as he walked out of the store. He had to find another job, and fast. The search would start first thing tomorrow morning. His chemistry assignment would just have to wait. Sucks, especially after he worked so hard to keep a steady B all year. But at this point, he didn't have a choice.

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Chapter Seven Maya Maya lay in her bed, reading through the college pamphlet. If she transferred her credits from California, she could go for an Associates of Art, and maybe get into teaching.

That would probably be the best she would ever do.

She sighed and lowered the pamphlet into her lap, her eyes drawn to the sun beaming through her bedroom windows—eleven o'clock at night.

Summer on Kodiak came with a strange side effect. Sun, and lots of it. But it wasn't the kind of sun she was used to on the beaches of California, where it heated the air and made the sidewalks too hot to walk barefoot.

In Alaska it seemed so far away, only warm when it was beating on your back, and not falling until ungodly hours of the night.

She'd have to get some heavier curtains if she wanted any sleep.

Maya pulled the blanket over her head and curled up into a ball, letting her eyes drift closed and her muscles relax. The ticking of the clock guided her mind between sleep and awake.

Giggles echoed in her ears. Maya wiggled under the covers, still conscious of the blankets wrapped around her and the way her hair draped over her cheek as she drifted into a deeper sleep.

The sparkling surface of waves flashed behind her eyelids. Sun reflected off the rippling water. Maya stood on the beach, her toes buried in warm sand. Salty air tickled her nose as she scanned the ocean's surface. She was home. A soft smile spread over her lips.

"Look, Maya. It's a seashell."

Maya turned, watching Gracie stoop on the wet sand, digging with a stick while she picked out shiny pebbles and pink shells. Her tiny face turned up toward Maya with a beaming smile. Waves rolled over the shore, crashing against Gracie's bare feet and wrapping around her ankles before pulling back again. Gracie's giggles made Maya's smile widen.

"The water's warm," Gracie squealed. "Let's go swimming!"

Before Maya could react, Gracie ran straight into the sea. "Gracie, stop!" Maya charged into the waves after her, but her sister had already vanished beneath the surface. "Gracie!"

Heavy storm clouds rolled in, casting shadows over the water, making it impossible to see to the bottom. "Oh God. No!" Maya desperately scanned the surface. "Gracie!"

Maya gasped and sat up, tears blurring her vision. She grounded herself in her bed by gripping the covers. Cold sweat zigzagged down her spine.

Since Gracie died, Maya had the same dream over and over, always ending the same way.

For some reason she never saw it coming, and was never able to stop Gracie in time...never got to hug her little sister and inhale the smell of the strawberry shampoo that scented her hair.

The sun had finally gone down. The sound of crickets and a cool breeze crept through her window. Maya slid her legs over the side of her bed and planted her feet on the floor, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands.

Another sleepless night.

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In California when she couldn't sleep, she found peace in painting. With everyone sheltered in their homes, no sounds of cars rushing down the streets, and the night's symphony of crickets, the world seemed like a different place.

Maya stood and grabbed a blank canvas, her container of paints and brushes, and an easel.

Balancing them awkwardly in her arms, she dragged them through her house and out her back door to the porch, where she could admire the view of the water.

It was cold, but she was surprised it wasn't colder. The winds brushed her hair across her neck and over her shoulders, sending a chill up her arms. She set up her easel and canvas, mixing paints by the light of a few bright bulbs on either side of the back door. It wasn't ideal light for painting, but she needed a release, and it had been entirely too long since she created anything new.

The moon seemed twice the size it was in California. It hung over the vast ocean, casting a soft glow over the night. Maya struggled to match the hue of the sky—not black, but a unique hue of deep royal blue.

The brushstrokes were familiar and comforting, drawing her back to the place within herself where she was safe.

It seemed like she had only been out there for an hour when Maya noticed a soft haze of light in the far distance. The sun had already begun to rise. She'd have to finish up before her scene vanished with the light of a new day.

She swirled the stiff bristle of an old brush in some white paint and poised it over the canvas. With a flick of her thumb, Maya sent tiny speckles of paint on the dark background, creating a cluster of stars. She stepped back and took in her painting, admiring the rich colors and gentle beauty of the night landscape.

It seemed like something her mom would like. She did say her bedroom was bland. Maya carefully carried the painting and her supplies back inside the house, resting her easel against a chair in the kitchen and her supplies on the table. She walked through the hall and up the stairs to her parents' bedroom. It would be a nice surprise for her mom to wake up to. Maybe it would make her smile. It might even show her that Maya still loved her, in her own way. She couldn’t remember the last time her mom hugged her or told her she was proud.

She crept closer to her parents' bedroom door and leaned the painting gently against the wall. The creaking of floorboards paired with the soft light peaking out from the cracked door made Maya pause.

Her mother's whispers carried into the hall. Maya furrowed her brows and poised her ear near the opening of the door. Her throat tightened when she heard the quiet sobs of her mother alone in bed. Dad had been at the base for the last few days—something her mother always hated.

Maya hated it too. They needed him, and he was never around. Especially now.

"I don't know if I can do this," her mother whispered, desperation woven into each trembling word. "Lord, please..." There was a long pause. Another quiet sob tricked from her mother's throat. "Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference."

Maya suppressed a gasp and stepped back. Her mother was reciting The Serenity Prayer.

Maya had no idea it had gotten that bad.

Her mother used to recite the prayer daily—several times a day even. And Maya had gotten used to hearing it. As long as she said that prayer, it meant she was fighting to stay sober.

But it had been so long since her mother had to say it. It meant the wine bottle she found wasn’t a casual drink with dinner.

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Certain demons just don’t go away.

Maya backed away, a lump in her throat as a weight settled deep in her gut. She slipped into her room and grabbed her cell phone. It wasn't until she was typing a message to Beth that she noticed her hands were shaking.

Hey. You awake?

Maya waited for a response.

U know I'm a night owl. What's up? U OK? I think my mom has a problem.

How bad?

Maya shook her head. Bad enough to pray...

Her mother had never been a religious person. In AA, they used faith as a means to get sober and stay sober. It was the first time she heard her mom speak of God, and though it was strange, it was a welcome change. Believing in anything was better than believing in nothing as far as Maya was concerned.

Her phone buzzed again. Looks like you made a good choice moving, then. She needs you.

Maya lowered her phone into her lap. Beth was right. Maya had her doubts, but this was why she left her life behind, why she gave up her scholarship, her entire life. Even if her mother didn’t appreciate her loyalty, or even her love, Maya clung to the few memories she had of the good times.

She would start school, work toward whatever degree she could get, and be with her parents, where she belonged. She’d do it for her family. She’d do it because deep down, she knew Gracie would want her to stay.

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Chapter Eight Jake Jake drove through the wet streets, the glare of his headlights reflecting against the rain making him squint. He leaned into the steering wheel, his windshield wipers doing the world's worst job at clearing away the thick rain.

He sped past a flash of red. Shit. Was that a stop sign?

He glanced over his shoulder, and then refocused on the road. His palms began to sweat as he gripped the wheel, trying to figure out how he'd come up with the money to pay for his mom's medicine.

The phone rang, making him jump. He ground his teeth and snatched it from the seat, then checked the caller ID. It was his mom. Apparently he wouldn't have to wait to tell her.

Jake flipped open the phone and pressed it to his ear. "Hey Mom." Sharp breaths crashed over the speaker of the phone. Jake narrowed his eyes. "Hello?" His mom moaned, and there was a loud crash in the background. "Hello? Mom?" He threw the phone aside and pressed harder on the gas.

She could have had another seizure and was probably alone, Wayne out partying with his buddies again.

Speeding as fast as he could without hydroplaning, he finally reached the entrance of the trailer park and fishtailed inside. Pebbles spit from his back tires as he sped down the gravel road to his house, slamming on the brakes.

Jake threw his car in park and jumped out. The handlebars of Wayne's Harley shone in the beam of his headlight.

Every muscle in Jake's body tensed.

He dashed up the stairs, through the door hung wide open. Once inside, his stomach dropped. Shattered dishes lay scattered over the floor. The coffee table was turned over, a cold TV dinner face down on the floor, seeping into the fibers of the dingy carpet.

"Mom?" He dashed through the hall where the two bedrooms were. Jake barged into the largest one. "Mom?" A moan came from the floor on the other side of the bed. Jake leapt on top of the lumpy mattress to see his mother sprawled on the floor, blood trickling from her nose, streaked across her cheek. Her hair was matted and stained red, lying limp over her forehead. Jake crouched on the mattress. Light from the streetlamp outside shined through tattered blinds and across her face, showing one of her eyes was completely swollen shut.

She lifted her shaky hand, pointing to the bathroom on the other side of the room.

Jake gently cupped her hand in his. "It's going to be okay, Mom." He reached for his phone in his pocket, and realized he left it in his car. "Shit." He searched for hers, but didn’t see it lying anywhere. “Where’s your phone, Mom?” She just moaned, and he glanced over his shoulder at the door to the bathroom, the sound of running water coming from inside.

He let his mom’s hand slip away and lowered himself to the floor and searched under the bed for the bat his mom kept in case someone ever broke into the house.

It would also work for beating her abusive boyfriend within an inch of his life.

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Jake’s fingertips brushed against the cool wood. He pulled it from under the bed and glared at the door. Tightening his hands around the neck of the bat, he prepared to unleash an epic dose of fuck you on the drunk bastard.

He rested his back against the wall beside the bathroom and waited. The handle turned and the door creaked open. Wayne lingered, the scent of alcohol infusing the air.

Jake peeked around the corner into the bathroom. Wayne was looking down at his hands, wiping them clean with a rag as he swayed, and then slumped against the doorframe, his heavy boots scraping the linoleum floor.

Jake's muscles coiled tighter as Wayne stepped closer. With the weapon poised over his shoulder, Jake gripped the bat in his hands and stiffened his upper lip, grinding his teeth. Wayne shifted forward. Jake swung the bat as hard as he could, but the dim light didn't help his aim.

Son of a bitch. The tip of the bat grazed Wayne's forehead, but the doorframe took the real force of the blow. The cheap wood trim splintered on impact.

Wayne stumbled back into the bathroom. His outstretched hands groped for something to catch himself on, and just before he tumbled into the bathtub, he grasped onto the shower rod and stabilized himself.

The bathroom was barely large enough to fit one person in, let alone two. But Jake was pissed and out for blood. He didn't believe in hitting a woman, and he'd kill anyone who touched his mom.

Wayne righted himself, death in his eyes, his forehead trickling blood. More blood was smeared across the pinup model on his shirt. Jake had a feeling that blood wasn't Wayne's.

"You got some balls, boy." Wayne's words were slurred and surly. He planted his hands on the walls to keep from falling over. "I'll give you that."

Jake didn't want to talk. The image of his mom being thrown around like a fucking rag doll played on a loop in his mind. He ground his teeth and gripped the bat even tighter.

"You gonna do somethin’ with that, or just stand there?" Wayne taunted him, waving Jake toward him. "Let's go then, boy. You ain’t gonna live past the first swing anyway."

Jake's gaze darted around the narrow bathroom. He wouldn't have the space to get in a good swing before the fat fuck plowed into him.

Jake stepped back.

Wayne lowered his hand, a cocky grin on his face. "You stupid little shit." He took a step forward. "You think you're a bad ass, don'cha?" Another heavy step sent Jake's heart into rapid fire. "You're all inked up, and that stupid fucking eyebrow ring. You think you're a big man."

He took another step back as Wayne lurched forward. If Jake could get him out of the bathroom, he could finally get in a decent shot.

His mom moaned, and Jake glanced back at her, still lying on the floor.

"Your mama ain't gonna save you this time." Wayne finally reached the threshold, his hands gripped around the doorframe. "I'm gonna break your fuckin’ neck like the little chicken shit you are."

Jake raised his bat.

Wayne charged.

He swung as hard as he could, slamming the solid wood into Wayne's arm.

He howled and spun to the floor, but it only took a moment for Wayne to push back to his feet. His lip curled, holding his arm. He plowed toward Jake like a train, slamming into him and pinning him to the floor. "You little prick!"

A solid fist slammed into Jake's jaw. Darkness clouded the edges of his vision.

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Jake swung his fist and connected with Wayne's mouth. Blood tricked down the side of his lip. Wayne turned his head and spit out a tooth. With a vicious scream, he slammed his head against Jake’s.

The blow nearly knocked him unconscious.

Wayne stumbled to his feet and lifted his good arm to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. "You broke my fucking arm!" His eyes flickered to Jake's mom, who had pushed herself to her knees, gripping the side of the bed. "Stupid bitch!" Wayne turned toward her, shouting across the room. "If you just did what you was told, my fucking teeth would still be in my fucking mouth!" He spit more blood onto the carpet.

Jake rolled onto his side. His efforts were met with a swift kick to the gut. He gasped and nearly gagged. The bat sat feet away on the floor, just out of his reach. His ribs aching, Jake inched his fingers toward it.

A stream of mumbles and curses poured from Wayne's mouth as he struggled to tie a Tshirt as a sling for his arm.

If Jake could just reach the bat— A heavy leather boot stepped on the weapon, rooting it to the floor. "You ain't getting that again." He kicked Jake's only defense to the back of the room. Thick fingers grabbed Jake by his shirt and pulled him to his knees. When his eyes finally focused, he stared down the barrel of a gun.

Wayne pulled back the hammer, his finger curled around the trigger.

Jake shut his eyes, as everything never had the chance to do reeled through his mind. He was born a bastard trailer trash nobody, and would die without clawing his way out. Just another failure.

Cold metal pushed against his temple. Jake's chest jumped, and he gripped the fabric of his jeans, refusing to give Wayne the satisfaction of begging for his life.

There was a loud crack, and Jake opened his eyes to see Wayne stumble across the room.

He slammed into the wall and slid down to the floor, leaving a streak of blood on the wall.

His mom’s frail frame swayed in the moonlit room, the bat hanging lifelessly in her hand.

Her birdlike chest pumped up and down, and she glared at Wayne with the one eye that wasn't swollen shut. "Stay the fuck away from my son." *** Blue and white lights flashed through the windows as Jake gave a statement to the police.

"Okay, kid. That's all we need from you right now." The officer closed his notepad and tipped his hat.

The doors to the ambulance slammed shut. His gaze shifted to the flashing lights, then back to the officer. "Thanks a lot." He rushed out the door, cradling his ribs. "Hey!" Jake pounded his fist on one of the double doors of the ambulance.

A paramedic opened the door and peered out. With one look at Jake, the thin-framed man waved him in. Jake followed the prompt and took a seat on the long, padded bench and slammed the door shut behind him.

His mom was asleep, an oxygen mask fit over her face and several IVs in her arm. "Is she okay?"

"She took a pretty bad beating, but her vital signs are all stable, so I think she'll be fine."

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30

Jake watched a machine spit out what looked like receipt paper with spikes that rose and fell with every beat of her heart. He sagged against the back of the seat.

The paramedic extended his hand as the ambulance pulled away. "I'm Troy."

"Jake." He shook his hand. "She's my mom."

"Yeah. I heard the cops talking outside." He let go of Jake's hand and grabbed some gauze from a drawer under the seat. "How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?" He dabbed a gash on Jake's arm that he hadn't even noticed was there. Damn it. That would leave a scar.

Jake flexed, gauging his body's reaction. Nearly everything throbbed or ached, especially his ribs. A few were probably cracked, but not broken. He shook his head. "No, I'm fine." Jake took his mom's hand, her fingers like ice.

"You know, that was a pretty brave thing you did, standing up for your mom like that."

Jake huffed. "It wasn't brave." He could almost feel the cold barrel of the gun pressed against his head. He blinked and swallowed. "I was scared shitless."

"Well..." The paramedic grabbed an icepack and snapped it in half, working it with his hands. "A lot of kids would have run." He extended the icepack to Jake. "Put this on your ribs.

It'll help until we get you to the hospital."

Jake took it and pushed it under his shirt, the cold making his muscles contract. He moaned and hunched over, pressing his eyes shut as sharp pain tore up his side. His heart was still racing, even though they were safe and Wayne had been carted off in his own ambulance with a police escort.

The paramedic rested his hand on Jake's shoulder. It was a surprisingly comforting gesture. "Everything will be fine. It's a fresh start for you guys. In a way, this is a good thing."

Jake lifted his head. "A fresh start?" The paramedic didn't seem to notice his softly spoken words. He reached in his pocket and grabbed his phone that he'd retrieved from his car and composed a text.

Hey Wes. Still have a spot on the boat this summer? My schedule just opened up.

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