He’d only met Craig’s little sister once. He’d seen her around school and on the bus, but fourth graders didn’t have much to do with third graders.

And every time he’d come over to Craig’s house, Lucy was always on her way to Brownies or soccer practice or ballet.

But she was here now. Of all the rotten timing…

Lucy crawled on her hands and knees over to him, and he noticed the smashed Kleenex box in her hand. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, she sat beside him on the platform, swinging her legs around to dangle like his, and handed Reece the Kleenex box.

He pushed it back at her.

She blinked at him with green eyes, the blue tissue box smashed against her chest.

He thought maybe he’d hurt her feelings, but he didn’t care. Not today.

Lucy turned and stared straight ahead, still clutching the tissue box. “My mom told me your mom went to heaven.”

Fresh tears immediately filled his eyes, but he refused to reach for the Kleenex as he blinked them away. Boys don’t cry.

Except, Reece’s dad had. Yesterday, he’d cried and cried and cried when the policeman had come by their house.

There was an accident….

Reece swallowed a sob, sniffing in dramatically before turning and glaring at the girl beside him. “Can you go away? I don’t like you.”

I don’t want you to see me cry.

She looked at him carefully. “You want to be alone?”

“Obviously,” he said with all the disdain he could muster.

She didn’t look away. “My mom said your dad dropped you off here. And that your sister hasn’t come out of her bedroom.”

“So?” He didn’t want to think about the fact that his dad hadn’t so much as hugged him. Or that fourteen-year-old Trish hadn’t said a single word since hearing the news.

He was all alone.

Lucy heaved a big sigh that reminded Reece of when his mom was frustrated with his dad. A sound he’d never hear again…

Tears rushed again, and this time he wasn’t fast enough, and they were running down his cheeks, dripping off his chin faster than he could wipe at them.

He looked at Lucy in embarrassment, but she didn’t seem to mind. She reached into the pocket of her pink hoodie and pulled something out.

Reece watched incredulously as she held up the deck of cards.

“Go Fish?” she asked.

He could only stare. His mom had just died, and this little girl wanted to play Go Fish?

It was…

It was…

Slowly, Reece nodded, suddenly realizing that he’d do anything to have a break from thinking about his mom. To keep from thinking about how nothing would ever be the same.

Lucy gave him a big smile, and began dealing the cards, all the while chatting about how her friend Robin had broken her arm and gotten a pink cast and how Lucy had signed it with a heart, and how she hoped her mom would let her quit ballet because she wanted to take gymnastics instead, and how she found a moldy grape in her lunch box and how it was the grossest thing ever.

They played one game.

Then another.

By the third game, Reece’s eyes had dried. His stomach still hurt, but his chest didn’t hurt quite as much. For the first time since they’d told him his mom had died, he thought he might not die too.

They played and played, and Lucy chatted, and Reece even laughed once or twice.

Finally, he heard Mrs. Hawkins’s voice calling them in for dinner.

Lucy began picking up the cards and putting them back in the deck. Reece picked up a ten of clubs, playing with the corner as he mustered his courage.

When she held out her small hand expectantly for the card, he took a deep breath and handed it over, meeting her eyes. “Thank you. For staying with me.”

Lucy blinked, looking a little confused, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world that she’d spend an afternoon with a crybaby.

Then she gave him a small smile, looking a little shy for the first time since going to him, as though she’d just realized something. “I’ll never leave if you don’t want me to.”

Chapter 3

Reece

I learned a long time ago that life’s not fair.

I learned it when I was nine, and my mom was struck and killed by a drunk driver at a crosswalk outside a donut shop.

I learned it just a few months ago when my dad finally gave in to the cancer in his stomach.

I learned it when my older sister ditched the crap out of me right when I needed family the most.

To sum up? Life’s not fair, and people leave. I get it.

But right now, what feels more unfair than just about anything else is that the person I hate the most for leaving looks damn hot in tiny denim shorts and a white tank top, with murder in her eyes.

Lucy Hawkins. She’d be my ultimate downfall if I hadn’t already hit rock bottom.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, Hey, babe, to see her fire ignite even further, but her parents are here and they don’t know our, um, history.

I know it though. And right now my damn cock is remembering all too well what it felt like to run my hand up those smooth calves, my tongue up the even smoother thighs.

There might be some pain in there somewhere at the memories, but mostly there’s anger. Anger that I didn’t see before it was too late that for all of Lucy Hawkins’s easy laughter and girl-next-door charm, she’s really just a self-serving brat. Always one foot out the door, her eye on what’s ahead instead of what’s right in front of her.