There’s no such thing as happy, just the idea of happy.

I place the book on the table and walk out onto the front porch. Isaiah and Logan were both sitting and they stand when the see me. I already tried to say goodbye to Isaiah and Logan once. Both of those moments sucked. Now knowing I’ll have to do it again and that neither of them will be chasing...

I shove my hands in my pockets to will away the pain then force a smile in Logan’s direction. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“A walk?”

“You move your feet, so do I. We travel from one place to another. A walk. Girls do it. I’ve seen them. They gather together at a house and then walk around the neighborhood. I always wanted to do that—just walk.”

Most girls never wanted to walk with me—the drug dealer’s daughter.

Logan offers me his hand and I take it, feeling a bit giddy and a bit silly as I slip my hand into his. I like Logan’s hand. It’s warm and strong and a bit rough in places yet soft in others.

The summer day is warm, but not nearly as oppressive as the morning had promised it would be. Hard to believe that earlier today I was eating breakfast with people I feel comfortable claiming as friends and had hope of having a real life with and now I’m on the verge of being the person who will once again disappear.

“Will you miss me?” I ask.

Logan’s fingers tighten around mine. “Yes.”

“Sometimes, when I was younger, I used to pretend Dad was an accountant. It’s what I told people he did and then it became a fantasy. That when he was gone, he was at some high-level accountant conference, because they do those things, right? But I loved the idea. The strong guy sporting a pocket protector and then he came home to have turkey and stuffing with pie every night for dinner. Some kids dreamed of beaches or some video game thing. I wanted dinner and accounting.”

“My dad works on a factory line,” he says. “It’s a good job. He works hard for not enough pay, but it’s enough to take care of me and him. He’s tired all the time. Works third shift since it pays more. Mom is a manager at one of those organic foods/new age places.”

I smile at the thought of the people behind producing Logan. “Your mom and dad sound different.”

“Night and day. Mom would have loved you.”

“And your dad?”

“Loves me.”

“Nice nonanswer,” I say and Logan chuckles.

“You remind me a lot of my mom,” he says.

My forehead wrinkles. “Never say that to a girl again, Logan. That is if you want to get laid.”

“If you met her, you’d understand that’s a compliment. People are naturally drawn to her and she dates guys half her age.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Mom’s eccentric.”

“So I’m eccentric?” It’s a pretty word for weird, but he has me.

He circles me and then plants his hands on my hips. “Very.”

His hands feel right on my body and my heart thumps. I lick my lips thinking of him kissing me and this gravity that exists only around him attempts to drag us closer, but I don’t know how I’ll say goodbye if I let him as near as he’s been for the past few nights. It’s like he’s already imprinted on my soul and withdrawals are going to suck.

I twist and duck to move around him, hating the loss of his touch. “Now, now, Logan. I have a reputation to protect in this neighborhood. People around here think I’m respectable.”

Logan glances around at the old houses as if he’s trying to guess as to what the people inside look like. “Do they?”

“Yep, I told them I run a food bank.”

“You did?”

“Nope.” My thirty seconds of playfulness fades away. “They all think I’m just like my father, but I’m going to do better than him. I’m going to get out and stay out.”

We continue to walk and ahead is a park. The sound of little kids screaming and laughing echo along to us down the street. Dad used to take me there. So did Grams. Sometimes when I felt too heavy after selling I would sit by myself in the dark and swing, pretending to be six and carefree and not a teenager who was drowning.

“Want to swing me?” I ask.

“Sure.” Logan stops walking and my heart aches because he has that expression on his face. The one that says he hears someone calling him home and that it’s time to stop playing.

“Please keep walking,” I say.

Logan releases my hand. “I can’t do this. I can’t pretend we’re just on a walk and that you aren’t about to leave the moment Denny gives you a new ID. I can’t do this make-believe anymore.”

“I need it.” Desperation claws at my chest. “I have always needed it. Pretending has helped me survive. When I didn’t have friends because of who my father was, when my father wouldn’t show for days, when I came to understand who he was and what he had done, then when he was arrested and on trial and Grams and everything. I love my father and my Grams but none of this life has been easy so I pretend. It’s like people who read books or see movies to escape. I pretend and I need you to pretend with me for just a few more minutes because I need to carry this very real memory with me for a very long time.”

Logan cradles my face with his hands and the pure raw emotion pouring from him nearly kills me. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Do you want me to stay and sell? Do you want me to move up with Ricky?”

“No.” He sucks in a breath and his eyes are frantically searching my face. “Maybe I could go with you.”

I close my eyes as my mind automatically creates beautiful pictures of a future that would never happen. Asking him to go with me would be selfish. It would be stealing his life and leaving Abby behind is bad enough. “No.”

Logan jerks away. “So that’s it. You’re the only dealer who has decided to go straight?”

“No, but I’m not just any dealer.” I had lied to myself that I was, but that’s all it was—a lie.

“So nobody in your position ever walked away?”

“It happens, but usually there were extenuating circumstances.”

“Like?”

I shrug. “A serious wound from a deal gone bad.”

“Not an option. Give me another.”

“They get a real job and slowly phase out, but once again, Logan, I’m not normal.”

“Give me another.”

I’m looking around as if the towering trees have an answer. “I don’t know. If there was another option, Dad would have given it to me.”

Logan swears and after a few seconds of gathering himself together, he reclaims my hand and we continue for the park.

Wherever I go, it’ll suck being alone. I was fine with alone until I met Logan. Even with Isaiah around and then Rachel, I was still fine alone, but the world without Logan’s just too empty.

“I love you,” I say to the ground and when he attempts to stop, I yank on his hand for us to continue forward. “I need you to keep walking, because I can barely handle saying this, but I love you. Just ignore me, Logan. Just pretend we’re walking and I’m not talking and that you just know that I love you.”

Logan releases my hand and slips his arm to around my shoulders. We keep walking and he nuzzles his nose into my hair, feathering a few kisses, causing delicious goose bumps and I love how I fit directly into the shelter of his body. I could have been happy with him. Very, very happy.

Maybe I died in the alley and this is my hell. Almost experiencing happiness then losing it.

We step onto the grass to head for the swings and my heart stalls when I meet eyes that I’ve studied before. He’s just as shocked to see me as I am him, and I have no doubt that his heart also races in fear.

“You okay?” Logan asks.

A little girl with many braids in her hair skips up to him and jumps into his arms. He hugs her, but still watches me. Like I’m the predator. Like I’m what’s wrong in this world. Guess I am.

“Yeah.” I rip my gaze away from the undercover drug annoyer. “That’s a narc over there. I figured him out a few weeks ago. He remembers me and I remember him. He’s with his kid so we should go.”

Logan glances over at him then brushes his fingers on my shoulder. “We can stay.”

“No,” I say. “We can’t.”

Logan

The hunger pangs roll over me like waves and I don’t need to test my blood to know that my blood sugar is low. I walk into the kitchen, toss my keys onto the counter and stop cold.

Both Mom and Dad are sitting at the kitchen table staring at me. Because the past twenty-four hours have been completely messed up, I check out the clock on the microwave and it confirms it’s midnight.

Hated leaving Abby, but she promised not to go without saying goodbye and my parents would go insane if I didn’t return home soon.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” I say to Dad and then to Mom. “Shouldn’t you be...not here?”

They do that long lingering look at each other and I ignore them as I head down the hallway.

“Logan?” Mom calls. “Come back.”

“Testing,” I say.