She’d heard the whole “hottest girl in school” bit before and didn’t ever care to hear it again. Those words were like a teenage ode to the high, firm 34DDs on a frame too small to carry them. They didn’t have anything to do with the girl inside.
But smart? She held her breath while he looked out the passenger window as if thinking it over.
“Okay. You’ll laugh at me, but what the hell do I care at this point?” He turned toward her, resituating the soda cup as he shuffled his long legs. “I don’t know if you remember that day you let loose on Mr. Shrader about the Ottomans and the Russians when he was trying to pick apart your position. But…damn.”
The admiration in his voice was unmistakable. And still, Mia could not believe her ears.
“The Crimean War debate?” They’d all been assigned sides in social studies and she’d gone off topic to make the point that it was one of the dumbest wars in history—and that was saying something.
“Yeah. I know. Total geekitude to be dialed into Russian history at 8 a.m. But that’s how I knew you were smart. There’s plenty of girls pulling down As. But not many who go toe-to-toe with Shrader in front of the whole class.” Davis pointed left. “The turn is up here. See the stop sign?”
Mia nodded.
Band geek or not, Davis Reed had just made a seriouschink in the armor around her heart. It might have been a great first date—probably the only good one ever—if she hadn’t kneed him in the crotch.
By the time she steered the truck into her father’s driveway, she couldn’t wait to put the whole thing behind her. She was an idiot to go out on dates, especially now that she had definitive proof that the boys in her school all thought she was some kind of nymphomaniac.
After an awkward goodbye with Davis, she trudged across the cold grass in front of Pete Yancy’s two-bedroom shotgun house with the sagging porch, wondering if it was too late to call her closest friend Ellie. It was a sad statement on Mia’s pathetic life that the person she felt closest to in the world was the woman answering hotline calls from total losers.
But as Mia tiptoed past the living room where her father’s bed now stood surrounded by monitors and equipment the home health care worker needed, she didn’t care if it made her a complete failure of a human that she needed to hear the voice of a woman she’d never met before. She had exactly no one else in her life who cared about her except for maybe her foster sister, whom Mia wasn’t even allowed to see anymore.
Pausing on the worn linoleum floor just outside the kitchen, she listened to the softbeep, beepof the monitors around Pete’s bed. Had he even heard her come in?
Lately, every time she walked past his bed she held her breath, fearing he was already dead. But the machines would make different noises, right?
Somewhat reassured, she darted into the tiny bedroom at the back of the house and squeezed her cell phone tighter, hoping Ellie answered. With the clock ticking on Mia’s time with Pete, she needed a plan for what wouldhappen when those machines did stop beeping. Her mom didn’t want to be bothered getting clean to regain custody. And returning to the foster system wasn’t an option.
It was thanks to that first foster home that she was so terrified of getting hurt again she ended up practically castrating perfectly nice boys. For a so-called smart girl, Mia had no freaking idea where to turn next.
Gabriella sifted throughthe contents of the goody bag from the spa party as she sat on the motel bed, waiting for Mia to call her back. Hair washed, face clean, a cup of apple cinnamon tea at her elbow after a short wrestling match with the coffeepot to obtain hot water only. But not even looking at the cheery bath products and the mini six-pack of specialty cupcakes wrapped in pink gingham ribbon could take away the dark cloud of her visit with Clayton.
She didn’t know much about his history with his father—he’d never been the kind to confide much about himself—but she remembered he resented the man. Knowing that, why wouldn’t he have made it a priority to check on his half sister, a vulnerable sixteen-year-old who’d been through hell in the last two years? Granted, he hadn’t known about her until recently. But as soon as he learned she existed, why wouldn’t he contact her?
Sipping her tea while she read the flier about the homemade, almond-scented bath bomb, Gabriella knew not all of her anxiety was related to Mia and Clay. Some of it owed to the fact that she’d be sitting in a courtroom tomorrow, seeing the man who had assaulted her ten years ago. Her therapist had warned her there would be emotional setbacks this week, no matter how far she’d come in putting that terriblesummer behind her. Between her father going to jail and the attack, she’d been pushed to her emotional breaking point. She’d overdosed, wishing for nothing more than to leave the pain and confusion of it all behind.
Years later she felt stronger as she helped others deal with painful lives, and her support group online had helped a lot of people. But she would need a different kind of strength tomorrow in that courtroom.
When her phone buzzed on the bed beside her knee, she spied Mia’s number on her caller ID.
“Hi, Mia,” she answered in a rush. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you earlier. Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine.” The girl spoke softly, but she’d always had a composed way about her for a teenager—even two years ago, the first time they’d talked on the phone. “I had a date tonight and I didn’t have anyone to tell about it, so I called you.”
Gabriella bit her lip, wishing she had more counseling background to draw on. She’d gotten a psychology degree, but she’d never taken it to the next level. She walked a tight rope with Mia, wishing the young woman wouldn’t keep dating when she had every reason in the world to be skittish around men. But what was the best way to say it without alienating the teen? She wanted her to feel like she had a safe outlet for confiding, but she wanted Mia to have good guidelines, too.
“How did the date go?” Gabriella moved aside the goody bag treats and set aside her tea.
“It was a total disaster, as usual, but for completely different reasons.”
Over the next fifteen minutes Mia regaled her with an outrageous tale that broke her heart despite Mia’s attempt to put a humorous spin on it at every turn. She’d been scaredof being molested, prepared herself to fight off her date, reached for the seat belt and got a handful of hard-on, making the guy think she was all in. After kneeing him in the groin—practically killing him, according to her—things got real in a hurry. Turned out the guy had only wanted to kiss her, and Mia figured she’d blown it with the first boy who didn’t see her solely for her breasts.
Gabriella closed her eyes tightly, hoping for the right words.
“What do you think about putting dating on hold for a while?” She’d asked the question more than once after a bad interlude. It seemed like Mia was so lonely she didn’t care who she went out with, as long as she had company.
Over the last two years Gabby had convinced her to see her guidance counselor and to confide in her caseworker, but because she and Mia were both members of a support group, Gabriella tried to create a different dialogue with the girl. She tried to maintain a connection that wasn’t threatening in any way, a line of communication Mia wouldn’t close because an adult pushed her too hard.
“Are you kidding?” Gabby could hear some kind of pop music in the background. “This was the closest I’ve ever come to a normal date. It’s the universe’s sign that the right guy is out there.”
