Authors: Emily Snow
Dave out of the cafeteria, down a wide
hallway, and into his office which was
cramped by stacks of books, paperwork,
and at least a hundred pictures of his
family. I sat on the other side of his desk,
scraping my hands together in my lap and
waited for him to tell me what the hell
was going on.
“Willow . . .” Dave began, and it was
in one of those exasperated voices that
automatically made me sink my teeth into
the inside of my jaw. He was frowning, as
if he was trying to find the right thing to
say and then he sighed. “We almost
declined your lawyer’s request to allow
you to work for us, but we believe in
second chances.”
Well, thanks for letting me know that.
I started to speak, but when I opened
my mouth it was impossible to talk past
the giant lump in my throat. So I nodded
my head slowly.
“A lot of our residents are children,
like Hannah, who have been hurt. The last
thing we want is for them to get their
hopes up.”
“I wasn’t making her promises or
getting her hopes up. She had a question
about a band she likes. I”—I bit my
bottom lip—“know one of the members
pretty well.”
“We’d prefer you not to answer
questions like that.”
And then it hit me. Dave wasn’t just
admonishing me; he was asking me not to
have contact with the residents of the
shelter. I didn’t want to be affected by
what he was requesting, and yet it felt like
someone was punching my chest from the
inside.
It seemed like the shittiest second
chance ever.
I struggled to keep my body, and my
voice, calm as I told him, “I’m not going
to tell her I won’t talk to her.” I didn’t
care if that meant I’d lose my job or lose
the sixteen hours I’d worked so far—I
refused to ignore anyone like that.
Coming to this conclusion made my
heartbeat race because the other Willow
—the Willow Dave was basing this
conversation on—would have shrugged it
off even if it made her feel like shit.
Apparently, there was less of her in me
than I’d realized.
“I won’t refuse to speak to Hannah if
she talks to me,” I said, this time my voice
steely.
Dave gave me a courteous but
frustrated smile. “We wouldn’t dream of
asking you to do that. Why don’t you call
it a night and we’ll talk to everyone
staying here with us this evening?”
He wasn’t firing me, but it still felt
like I was losing. “Sure,” I said.
“Willow,” Dave said in a soft voice.
“We’re not trying to hurt your feelings, but
at the end of the day, our top priority is
helping the women and kids who come
into our shelter.”
“I understand,” I said. And I did. To
him, I was the flighty actress with two
trips to rehab before the age of twenty
under her belt. I could see why Dave
wouldn’t want me to be around the
residents of the homeless shelter.
Understanding the reasons behind his
decision only made the pressure in my
ribs squeeze harder, suffocating me.
As I did the march of shame to the
exit, I sent Miller a text message.
Come
pick me up, please
. He wrote me back
almost as soon as I hit send.
6:38 p.m
.: Already in the parking lot.
Even though he was especially chatty
about a fight he’d broken up at the strip
club he worked at, I didn’t talk much as
Miller drove me across town to my
lesson. I nodded in the right places and
laughed when he said something funny, but
I was barely listening.
I was still thinking of Hannah, the kid
who liked cartoons full of adult innuendo
and had a tween crush on my ex-boyfriend
and how my boss had slapped my wrists
for talking about both with her.
For the first time since my surf lessons
began, nobody was in the shop area at
Cooper’s place or coming out of another
part of the house to greet me—probably
because it was so late in the evening.
When I stepped inside and the little bell
hanging over the doorway rang, Paige
yelled from the kitchen, “In here, Avery.”
Following the mouthwatering scent of
marinara sauce, I found the three of them
—her, Eric, and Cooper—at the round
kitchen table with heaping bowls of
spaghetti in front of them.
“You’re early,” Cooper pointed out,
but there was a smile on his face,
extending all the way to his clear blue
eyes. For a brief moment, my throat felt
dry and all the stress from this afternoon
started to blur. Then he linked his fingers,
slid them behind his head, and asked,
“How goes the toilet cleaning?”
Way to yank my ass back to reality
, I
thought as I gave him a sarcastic smirk. I
crossed the room and sat on one of the
stools behind the granite counter. “At least
I don’t have to practice popping up to grab
the cleaner and toilet brush.”
“Careful or I’ll send you out back to
practice now,” Cooper said, his blue eyes
issuing a challenge.
Eric snorted. “Cooper’s bedroom is
upstairs, second door on the right. I’ll
totally give you guys all the condoms I’ve
got if you take your verbal hate fuck up
there,” he said, and Cooper and I broke
eye contact to glare at him. “What? That’s
what you’re doing.”
Paige smacked the back of his head,
hard, and practically knocked over her
seat jumping up to make me a plate.
“Come sit with us. There’s plenty for—”
“You don’t have to do that for me.”
But she was already standing on her
tiptoes, rifling around in a high cabinet.
“Don’t tell me you’re on a low carb diet
or something?” She closed the cupboard
door, holding a red plate in front of her
like she’d go all
Tangled
on me and hit
me with it if I argued with her.
I thought of the whole wheat waffles I
forced myself to eat every morning and the
personal trainer I’d never called, despite
Kevin constantly texting me about doing
so. “No, no diet.”
“You should call Hulk back and see if
he wants any,” Paige said as she spooned
the pasta onto my plate. When I told her
that Miller was probably already in the
gym, she motioned her head from the
counter to the table. I slid in the spot
between Cooper and Eric.
“You look like you lost your best
friend,” Eric said.
I held back a snort. Jessica was still
the only friend I’d spoken with since
coming to Honolulu and contact with her
had been sporadic at best. She was in the
middle of filming a pilot for a new TV
show—at least that’s what she swore
whenever I called and she rushed off the
phone a few minutes later.
“No, I . . .” I was grateful that Paige
chose that moment to slide the plate of
spaghetti onto my placemat. My stomach
rumbled painfully because it smelled so
good and I hadn’t eaten anything since my
waffle and egg whites this morning. Three
sets of eyes burned into the top of my head
as I dumped a bunch of mozzarella cheese
onto my pasta and then dug in.
“We’ve got seconds, Wills. And thirds
if you’re that hungry,” Cooper teased, and
I shot him a look. When he flinched, I
groaned.
“Sorry, it’s just been a bad day,” I
said.
He frowned, sunk his fingers into his
blonde hair to scratch his head, and then
said hesitantly, “Did someone say
something to you?” The dangerous tone
that had been in his voice when I told him
about Tyler had returned, and out the
corner of my eye, I saw Paige and Eric’s
eyes dip to their laps.
“No, not like you’re thinking,” I said,
part of me surprised at how honest I
wanted to be with him. Even with other
people around. It was his eyes, I decided.
The way he looked at me made me want to
spill my every secret. “I, um . . . my
community service boss basically told me
to stay the hell away from the residents
today.”
“Why?” Paige whispered.
At first, I had no plans to tell them
anymore. I was fully prepared to shrug it
off. But then I realized that I was already
in too deep—that I’d already peeled away
several vulnerable layers of myself. As I
sat there stuffing my face with Paige’s
cooking, I unloaded everything that had
happened today on three people I’d barely
known a week.
When I was finished, Eric’s usual
lopsided, playful grin had turned into
something thoughtful and he was
scratching his out-of-control beard. I was
grateful that he didn’t say anything,
especially since I’d probably just
solidified myself as the Psycho Sally of
the year, actress edition.
“It’s still pretty light out,” Paige said,
breaking the silence. I flicked my eyes
across the table to find her glancing at the
window. She met my gaze with a big
smile. “And I’ve got the coolest boss on
the planet who’s going to go easy on his
client today so she can soak up the rest of
it with me. She’s looking pretty pasty.”
“She looks perfect, but whatever,”
Cooper said, his words causing my heart
to hammer wildly.
A few minutes later, Paige and I
carried our boards out to the deck. She
was right, it was still sunny out, but the
beach was empty, save for a few people
playing a horribly uncoordinated game of
volleyball.
Before she hopped off the deck, she
said, “Just so you know, I love
Adventure
Time
, too.” When I leaned over the railing and raised my eyebrow, she shrugged,
adding, “What’s not to love about a show
with a hug wolf?” Then she took off into a
sprint toward the sea. Halfway there, she
turned, cupped one of her hands over her
mouth and yelled, “Come on! I’m going to
show you what Coop Taylor wishes he
could do.”
He chuckled behind me. I turned,
pressing my back against the wooden
banister. Our gazes tangled. And it wasn’t
until Eric’s tall form shuffled past him,
toting a beach chair that we looked away.
As soon as Eric was out of earshot,
Cooper pushed away from the opposite
side of the deck, reaching me in two long
strides. He grabbed my face between his
hands, pushing back wisps of my dark hair
that had fallen over my eyes.
“You’re not a bad person,” he said.
They can see us. They can see what
you’re doing to me!
I swallowed hard. “Don’t think I ever
said I was.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I jerked away from his grasp, feeling a
tingle on my face where his fingertips had
touched. “I better get down there with
Paige before she comes to drag me.” I
raked my hands through my hair and
skimmed my body past his. Cooper
opened his mouth to say something, but I
shook my head and cut him off. “You don’t
know me.”
“I know that the media turns everyone
who makes a mistake into a monster,” he
said, and there was a bitter edge to his
voice.
Hugging my arms over my lower
stomach, over the fabric of my t-shirt and
the stretchiness of the one piece I wore
underneath that, and the scar that
symbolized the only secret of mine the
media had never gotten their hands on, I
matched my smile to his tone of voice. “I
deal with it.”
“I bet you do.”
“Stop trying to figure me out,” I said,
remembering his words the other
afternoon when he’d called me difficult. If
I was so difficult, why wouldn’t he just let
this thing with me go? Hell, why couldn’t I
just let this thing go?
His eyes challenged me. “You can’t
take it?”
“Just . . . stop,” I whispered
pleadingly.
He shook his head to each side in
amazement. “Fine. When you want to give
this thing between us a go, you let me
know. You be the one to change the
game.” When I didn’t say anything, he
motioned out to where Eric was sloshing
through the waves, with Paige sitting on
his shoulders, her short legs wrapped
around him and her tattooed arms flailing
wildly. They looked happy. So fucking
happy I felt my stomach burn.
“You should probably go before I
change my mind about doing what
Dickson’s paying me to do,” Cooper said.
For a moment—hell, longer than a
moment—I wanted to turn to him and tell
him I didn’t want him to just do what
Dickson was paying him to do. That I
wanted so much more from him. By the
time I’d worked myself up enough to
speak, the door to the house was clanging
shut.
Swallowing hard and cursing at