Page 32 of Older

She stared at me, unable to hold back the flickering of light that inhabited her eyes. “I don’t have it yet. I’m trying to save my money for necessities.”

I wondered if she’d discovered the extra cash I’d slipped into her coat pocket that night outside the grocery store. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything beyond an impulsive act of kindness. Her coat had looked old and tattered, her shoes full of holes. And I’d noticed the worry coasting across her face with every item that had dinged along the checkout scanner.

She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I should thank you for?—”

Before she could finish speaking, Halley moved the wrong way, and her cast knocked one of the dishes off the counter. We both watched it shatter across the tile at our feet in slow motion.

She paled.

Tears glistened in her eyes as she carved out a sharp breath and dropped to her knees.

“Shit. Sorry…I-I didn’t mean?—”

“It’s not a big deal.” I grabbed a towel to help contain the mess, my attention locked on her panicked face. “Hey, it’s all right. I got it.”

“I just…I’m sorry.” Shaking her head, she fell back on her haunches. “It was an accident.”

“Seriously. It’s fine.”

She stared blankly at the mess. And then the color slowly made its way back to her cheeks as her breathing steadied. When the fear dissipated, she let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Yikes. That was an overreaction.”

I studied her as I held a dishrag over the scattered glass.

And I understood.

She’d probably been beaten for dropping a plate before, and the thought was like acid to my veins.

Whitney raced into the kitchen, reaching for a dustpan and falling beside us. “A casualty,” she teased, easing the tension.

Halley inhaled a breath, composed herself, and climbed back to her feet. “I’m really sorry, Ms. Stephens. I’ll try to be more careful.”

“You can start by not doing my dishes, you goofball. You should be resting that arm.” Dusting and scooping, she collected the loose shards and added with a smile, “Also, please call me Whitney.”

“Okay. No problem.”

Whitney shot me a look before she disappeared out of the kitchen. Turning to Halley, I watched as she picked at the hem of her pale-yellow blouse and fidgeted in front of me, her eyes on the ground.

I took a step closer and leaned in. “At least it’s not your rock, paper, scissors hand.”

A beat passed.

And a smile finally broke free.

She chewed on her bottom lip, cheeks flushing a similar rosy shade, as her eyes lifted to mine. “You should sign my cast,” she said, the cloud of unease dissipating. “All the cool people are doing it.”

“That so?” I blinked down at the pink beacon attached to her left arm. “Got a marker?”

“Sure. One sec.” Halley returned a moment later with a Sharpie.

I took it.

Our fingers brushed together and my jaw ticked as I sawed out a breath.

Then I scribbled my name on her cast with a black marker, telling myself it would be the only thing she’d ever claim from me.

CHAPTER 6

On the morning of my eighteenth birthday in mid-February, I woke up with what felt like a colony of fire ants taking up residence in the back of my throat. If someone was in need of a dragon, I’d volunteer. I was confident I could breathe hellfire.

---