It’s just a peck—lasts maybe two seconds—but it’s two seconds too long because a moment later, someone is tapping us on the shoulder. We both look up to see the lunchroom monitor glaring at us.

“No PDA in the cafeteria. Put up your trays and come with me. Lunch detention.”

I look at Miller and shake my head. “I’ve been dating you fourteen hours, and you’re already getting me in trouble.”

Miller laughs. “You were doing illegal things with me long before fourteen hours ago. You forget about the sign?”

“Let’s go,” the lunch monitor says.

She follows us as we put our trays away. Miller swipes the bag of chips off my tray when she’s not looking and shoves them into the front of his jeans, covering them with his T-shirt.

The monitor leads us to the library, where she signs us in for lunch detention. I have literally never had lunch detention in my life. This is a first, but I’m actually a little excited about it.

We take a seat at an empty table. The teacher who’s monitoring detention is playing a game on his phone while his feet are propped up on the desk. He doesn’t pay us any attention.

Miller begins to move his chair a little bit at a time so that it goes unnoticed. It reminds me of how he’s been moving the city limit sign.

He’s eventually sitting so close to me that our thighs and arms are touching. His proximity is nice. I like the way it feels being close to him. I also like the way he smells. Normally, he smells like bodywash. Axe, maybe. Sometimes he smells like suckers. But right now, he smells like Doritos.

My stomach growls, so Miller leans carefully back in his seat and sticks his hand in the band of his jeans. He removes the bag of chips and coughs a little when he opens them to cover the noise of the crinkling bag.

The detention monitor looks in our direction. Miller stares down at the table and tries to look innocent. When the guy goes back to playing his game, Miller holds the bag of chips toward me. They’re all crushed, so I take the most solid one I can find and slip it into my mouth before the teacher notices.

We eat the entire bag this way, taking turns sneaking chip fragments, sucking them until they’re soggy so we don’t crunch too loud. When the bag is gone, I wipe my hands on my jeans and raise an arm. “Excuse me?”

The detention monitor looks up.

“Can we get a book off the shelf to read?”

“Go ahead. You have sixty seconds.”

A few seconds later, we end up on the same aisle, and Miller’s mouth is on mine, my back against a wall of books. We’re laughing while we kiss, making every attempt at being quiet. “We’re gonna get detention again,” I whisper.

“I hope so.” His mouth meets mine again, and we both taste like Doritos now. His hands slide from my cheeks down to my waist. His tongue is soft, but his kisses are quick. “We better hurry. We only have thirty seconds left.”

I nod but wrap my arms around his neck and pull him even closer. We kiss for about ten more seconds before I push him away. His hands remain on my hips.

“Come to the theater tonight,” he whispers.

“You working?”

He nods. “Yeah, but I can get you in free. I’ll make fresh popcorn this time.”

“Sold.”

He pecks me on the cheek and grabs a random book off the shelf behind me. I grab one, too, and we both return to our seats.

It’s hard to sit still now. He got me all worked up, and I want to hold his hand or kiss him again, but we have to settle for playing footsie instead. After a while, he leans over and whispers, “Mind if we trade books?”

I look at his book, and he closes it so I can read the cover. An Illustrated Guide to the Female Reproductive Cycle.

I cover my laughter with my hand and slide him my book.

When we’re back at my locker after detention, Lexie appears. She wedges herself between Miller and me. “He’s funny.” I think she’s talking about Efren. “Short, but funny.”

“You two should come to the movies with me tonight,” I offer.

Lexie makes a gagging sound. “In all the years you’ve known me, have I ever gone to the theater with you?”

I think about that, and she hasn’t. I’ve just never questioned it.

“Do you have something against movie theaters?” Miller asks.

“Uhhh, yeah. They’re disgusting. Do you know how much semen is on a theater seat?”

“Gross,” I say. “How much?”

“I don’t know, but they should probably research it.” She pushes off the locker and walks away. Miller and I both stare at her.

“She’s interesting,” he says.

“She is. But now I’m not so sure I want to come to the theater tonight.”

Miller leans in toward me. “I clean that theater, and it’s spotless. You better show up. Seven?”

“Fine. I’ll be there. But if you could Lysol the entire back row of every room, that would be great.” Miller leans forward to kiss me goodbye, but I push his face away with my hand. “I don’t want detention again.”

He laughs while he backs away. “See you in six hours.”

“See ya.”

I don’t tell him there’s a chance I might not be there. I haven’t talked to my mother about it yet. After what happened in the hallway today, it’s clear she doesn’t want me dating Miller. I’ll probably hang out at Lexie’s after school for a while and then lie to her and tell her we’re going to the movies.

I’m getting pretty good at lying to her. It’s easier than telling her the truth.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

MORGAN

Jonah knocks softly on the front door before opening it.

I’m on the couch with a sleeping Elijah when he lets himself in.

“I picked him up right before they were about to lay him down for a nap,” I whisper.

Jonah looks down at Elijah and smiles. “They sleep so much at this age. I kind of hate it.”

I laugh quietly. “You’ll miss it when he starts refusing to take naps.”

Jonah nods toward the garage. “I didn’t have time to run home after work. Mind if I try to unlock Chris’s toolbox?” I shake my head. Jonah heads in that direction, and I put Elijah in his bassinet. I move it to the far side of the living room so that the noise from the kitchen hopefully doesn’t wake him.

Jonah walks back into the house with Chris’s toolbox and carries it into the kitchen. I follow him to help him with the door.

I hand him a knife, and it only takes him a few seconds to pick the lock. After he opens the lid, he lifts the top tray out so that he can search through the larger section in the bottom.

There’s a perplexed look that suddenly appears on his face. That look prompts me to walk over to the toolbox and look inside.

We both stare at the contents that were hidden beneath the top tray.

Envelopes. Letters. Cards. Several of them, all addressed to Chris.

“Are these from you?” Jonah asks.

I shake my head and take a step back, as if the distance will make them disappear. Every time I feel like one of my many wounds might be starting to heal, something happens to rip it open again.

Chris’s name is written in Jenny’s handwriting on the outside of all the open envelopes. Jonah is sifting through them.