Page 9 of Holding On To Good

Because Urban would never go back on a promise.

Movements jerky, she walked past him to the bed. She shoved her geometry book into her bag, then threw in her pencil. Grabbed her jacket from the back of his desk chair and hurried out the door.

And told herself the sinking sensation in her stomach when he didn’t try and stop her was relief.

Lying to herself once again.

Lying to him as well.

Guess it was going to become a habit after all.

Because she couldn’t go back to how they’d been. Could no longer ignore the simple truth that lived inside of her.

She was Urban’s.

But he’d never be hers.

Chapter One

Holding a cup of coffee in one hand, Urban Jennings used his other one to knock on his sister’s bedroom door.

And because Verity slept like the dead—and hadn’t gotten home until after three a.m.—he knocked again, louder, then opened the door, stepped into the room and turned on the light.

Bella, their yellow Lab, lifted her head from where she lay next to a Verity-sized purple and white quilt-covered lump on the bed. Urban crossed the room, stepping over a pile of clothes that could be clean, could be dirty, could be a mix of both. That was the thing with living with a teenager, with raising one.

They kept you guessing.

And on your toes.

The black gown Verity had worn to her high school graduation last night was balled up on the floral armchair in the corner, her cap perched on the head of the stuffed monkey Silas had sent her for her twelfth birthday. It was a good look for the monkey. Distinguished, with that tassel draped over his eye. Scholarly.

He opened the curtains. Golden sunlight spilled into the room, hot and bright and cheerful.

The lump didn’t notice.

He kicked aside a sneaker as he made his way toward the bed. “Wake up.”

Nothing.

Taking another sip of coffee, he studied the lump. Unsure of which end was up, he gingerly lifted a corner of the quilt at the foot of the bed, revealing Verity’s bare toes, the nails painted a sparkly pink.

He lightly shook her foot. “Get up.”

“Go ’way,” she muttered with a weak kick.

“Up.” He jiggled the mattress and Bella raised her head to give an excited bark at this fun new game. “Now.”

Verity groaned and rolled over. “What time is it?”

“Seven thirty.”

She lowered the covers enough to expose one narrowed, bloodshot eye. “Go. Away.”

“Breakfast is in ten minutes.”

“I’m not hungry.” And she pulled the quilt back over her head.

“Toby’s making your favorite,” he said.

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