“Yeah.”

“How is he?”

“He’s good. Lisa’s coming home from Savannah for the weekend so he’s excited about that.”

“Is she still enjoying it there?”

I nodded.

“And you?” she asked, releasing her hold. “How are you?”

“Good,” I answered, even though I knew it wouldn’t be enough.

And right on cue, “Chloe.” I saw what was coming next; I’d been expecting it for a while. “You just seem to be getting more and more distant lately, and I understand that. I do. But we miss you.”

“I know,” I said quietly.

She sighed and changed the subject. “So how was work?” She smiled widely, in such a way that I knew she knew something I didn’t.

“What do you know?” My grin matched hers. I couldn’t control it. I loved Mary and everything about her. I was so, so grateful that I had ended up there, with her and Dean, when things could’ve turned out so much worse.

“Who was that boy that was here Sunday morning? Are you guys dating?”

And just like that my mood switched. “No, we’re not dating. Honestly, I just met him that night.”

“Are you working with him?”

My eyes snapped to hers. “How—”

“I’ve seen him there before . . . when we’ve taken the kids. I’m not a perv.” She smirked. “But it’s hard not to notice a boy like that.” A part of me wanted to laugh and agree with her, but an even bigger part of me was afraid. She took my nonresponse and ran with it. “Does he go to your school?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I shrugged and stood up. “I’m going to school; I should at least show up for a class or two.” I swiftly exited the room, then climbed the stairs faster than normal. If she had more questions, she kept them to herself. She knew I wouldn’t want to hear them.

I knew my future.

I knew my fate.

And I knew that I had absolutely no control of any of it. I’d learned to accept that and be thankful for what I did have. The things most people took for granted were the things I made sure to pay special attention to: sunrises and sunsets; driving with the top down—or just driving at all; being able to wake up and know that it was safe to play outside with the kids, and, in a world populated by dictators and strewn with war zones, I wasn’t surrounded by any of them. What I was surrounded by was an uncertain future. One in which I couldn’t muster the courage to have hopes and dreams. Because I knew they were unattainable. That part—I could live with.

But what I hated about the uncertainty was my inability to form meaningful relationships. Not so much with guys but with Mary and Dean and all the kids that came through there. The only one I had let in was Clayton, and that was because he had been there with me, helping to build the walls around both of us.

I couldn’t—and I wouldn’t—let anyone else close.

So when Mary had brought up Blake, I’d frozen and I’d shut down.

Because over the years of building walls and living my life one day at a time, I’d learned to accept my fate and never hope for more than what I had. I’d never questioned the way I thought about my life.

But Blake—he made me question it.

He made me want to change it.

To change my outlook.

And to change myself.

But I couldn’t.

And I wouldn’t.

Because one day, sooner rather than later, I’d be gone.

And I’d leave them all behind.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Chloe

He hadn’t gone to school yesterday. Not that I’d been looking for him, but his chair in the cafeteria had been empty. I’d heard his girlfriend, Hannah, telling people that he was with Josh and Tommy and that Tommy had been sick Monday night. I was glad that they had spoken and that he’d told her the truth.

He’d looked pissed when I had said that I didn’t want anyone to find out that we knew each other. High school was enough of a bitch as it was. I didn’t need people like Hannah as my enemy. I’d studied enough to pass my classes and moved on to the next day.

But he was there that day. Which I knew meant that I’d most likely see him at work, or earlier, as fate would have it.

I saw him when I showed up for gym class. “A special guest,” Coach Riley called him. “He’s here to teach us the fundamentals of basketball.” Fundamentals? We were eighteen. Seniors. If we didn’t know the fundamentals of basketball—living in Wilmington, North Carolina, home of the Michael Jordan—then it meant we didn’t ever care to learn. I, for one, did not care. Hannah, however, gushed, clapping her hands when she saw him. It must’ve been as much of a surprise for her as it was for me.

I kept my head down the entire time, trying to be inconspicuous. Even when he stood behind me and guided me on how to hold the ball and shoot from the free-throw line, I didn’t acknowledge him. Not even when I completely missed the shot and he said, “We’re gonna need to work on that. What’s your name?”

“Chloe,” I answered, my eyes never meeting his. I turned and walked to the end of the line. He said my name eight more times during class. I knew Hannah noticed. She glared at me the entire time in the locker room. But her glare changed to a smirk after I went to put on my shoes only to discover that they’d been drenched in water. I left before everyone else. Soaking-wet shoes and all. He was outside the gym doors, waiting. He called my name, but I kept walking. He knew that was the opposite of what I wanted. He knew, and he’d done it anyway. If he’d meant to piss me off, it worked—I was done with him.