I snort, and say, “That’s lame.”

He winks at me. “Lame, but true. Come on, pretend . . .” He looks around and notices a rock. “Pretend that rock is someone you’re really angry at. Tell them what you think of them.”

“I can’t do that.”

He stops smiling and steps closer to me, leaning down. “Why not?”

“I don’t . . .”

“No,” he says firmly. “No excuses. Tell me why you’re afraid to say it how it is.”

I swallow. “Anger only gets you into trouble. You say something you shouldn’t, and it hurts people.”

“Yes, that can be true, but not if you control it. Not if you think about what you’re saying before you say it.”

“People get mad at you if you speak the truth,” I go on. “I don’t like it when people are angry at me.”

“Jesus, Pip, that might be the case, but you can’t spend the rest of your life worrying that someone is going to get mad if you express yourself. If they love you, they’ll understand that you have emotion, same as the rest of the world.”

My bottom lip shakes. “I’m afraid, Tyke.”

He takes my face in his hands. “That’s what we’re here to change. You’re allowed to be yourself, Pippa. Think back, before you were taken. What were you like?”

I close my eyes and think back to a time before Santana and I lost our parents and our worlds crumbled. I was never an outgoing girl, like my sister, but I was bubbly and loved to laugh.

“I was bubbly,” I say with a sad smile. “Dad used to tell me I could brighten his day, because when I greeted him each night it was with so much enthusiasm and laughter that he couldn’t help but be happy.”

“That’s good, honey,” Tyke says softly. “That’s a good thing to hang on to. Now think, really think—would that Pippa just let people walk all over her?”

I smile at a memory that flashes into my mind. It’s one I had forgotten about until just now. We were playing in my new playhouse, and the boy next door came over. We played with him often, but this particular day, he decided to tease Santana. He made her cry and when she went into the house, I gave him a Pippa mouthful that made him cry, too.

“No,” I say softly. “I might have been shy, but I knew what I wanted.”

“That girl is in there. She isn’t gone; she might have changed, but she hasn’t gone anywhere. Find her—bring her out and get her back.”

I open my eyes and stare into his. We stand like that for a long time.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He smiles.

“Okay.”

He takes my shoulders and turns me towards the large rock. “Pretend I’m not here. Talk to that rock, tell it what you have wanted to tell someone. It doesn’t have to be someone from your past; it can be from someone you have only met recently. Anyone. You decide.”

I take a deep breath.

“I’m not stupid,” I say softly.

“Louder baby,” Tyke encourages. “Get mad.”

“I’m not stupid,” I say again, a little harsher. “I’m not daft. I’m good at my job, and you have no right to speak to me like that.”

“More, louder, harder,” Tyke whispers into my ear and I shiver.

“I might work for you,” I say, feeling a strange emotion clamp down firmly in my chest, “but that doesn’t mean you can treat me like, like . . .” I stammer and close my eyes, taking a shaky breath, “. . . like a dog.”

“That’s a girl, get it out.”

“And I will clean the toilets,” I yell, shocking myself. “When I’m good and damned ready!”

“Yes!” Tyke says, squeezing my waist. “Keep going.”

“You think I can just do a million jobs at once?” I bark, feeling my hands shake with suppressed anger and shame. “I’d like to see you do it all, you angry, horrible man.”

“You’re doing really good, baby. Scream at him, louder.”

“You’ve probably never worked a day in your life,” I scream so hard my voice shakes. “You probably don’t know how it feels to live a difficult life. How does that prime-cut roast beef taste, you . . . you . . . jerk!”

“Yeah darlin’.” Tyke laughs. “Tell him.”

“And . . .” I screech. “And as for you, you . . . nasty woman. You don’t deserve him. You’ll never deserve him. He’s so much better than you, and you’ll never see it because you can’t look past your fake nails and plastic breasts. You should be on your knees thanking God every damned day for giving him to you!”

I never meant to say that—it just came pouring out. My mouth clamps shut and my eyes widen. Tyke has gone still and quiet behind me, and suddenly I wonder if I’ve just made the biggest mistake I could have possibly made. I turn slowly, rasping, “Tyke, I’m sorry, I—”

I don’t get a word in, because his lips crash down over mine. My knees wobble and his hand snakes out and goes around my waist, pressing my body to his. I crumble against him with a whimper, opening my mouth and letting him in. I’ve been kissed once in my life before, and that was by Rainer. It was a long time ago, and it was amazing. This, though? This is fireworks.

Tyke’s hands pull me closer, crushing my body against his. His tongue tangles with mine, and it’s so soft. His cheek is rough against mine, and my lips feel swollen and alert with every graze of his. He makes a throaty, rumbling sound and then suddenly he steps back, running his hands through his hair, looking frantic.