Kylee started to pull back, but he tightened his grip. He touched her in the crease of her elbow, smoothing the skin enough to show the myriad of healing cuts.

“What are these from?” he asked, his voice tight.

“Nothing.” Panicking, Kylee tugged harder. If he should look at her other arm, he’d see the jagged wound from wrist to elbow, still fresh enough to be tender. This time she succeeded in freeing herself. She tugged on his short-sleeve shirt and wrapped her arms around her torso, wishing she’d kept her sweatshirt on. “Just old scars.”

“Who did that do you?” He looked at her, a muscle in his jaw clenching.

Kylee opened her mouth, but she didn’t have any lies available.

“Did you do that, Kylee?”

She turned her gaze to the sand, wishing she could disappear. She knew she shouldn’t cut herself. She knew normal people didn’t do that. But it was so soothing. It made everything else less painful.

Price touched her shoulder, and then his arms went around her, pulling her into his chest. His heart pounded beneath her ears, and his chin rested on her head. “You’ll hurt yourself, Kylee,” he whispered. “Life’s not that bad.”

She closed her eyes and listened to the waves pounding on the surf, the beating of his heart, his breath easing in and out of his lungs. She felt the sun on her arms, the warmth of his skin through her shirt. She believed him. Right now, at least, life wasn’t that bad.

Price didn’t let go of her hand until they got back to the boardwalk. Kylee took a moment to put her shoes on, and then he led her away from the hustle of shoppers and visitors to Pacific Avenue, a street behind the boardwalk.

“Where are we going?” she asked as the number of pedestrians diminished.

“I need some lunch.” He shot her a speculative look. “Do you want something to eat?”

Her stomach tightened. “I am hungry,” she admitted.

“Well, okay, then. There’s a great sandwich place back here,” he said, shoving his hand in his pocket while the other held on to his bag strap. “It’s out of the way, always busy, and a little cheaper than the boardwalk.”

“A place your mom used to take you?”

He grinned without looking up. “All the time.”

“Have you always lived in Virginia Beach, then?”

“Pretty much. We lived out in Chesapeake Bay before.”

“Why did you move?” Kylee hoped she wasn’t being too nosy. It had been such a small move, just an hour away. But enough to change houses, school districts, probably the work commute.

“Change of scenery. Dad said it would be good for us. Maybe it is. At least the house isn’t full of memories everywhere.” He stopped walking, his eyes staring at a spot on the sidewalk. “She took months to die. Months of dying. It was good to leave. Everything in the house felt wrong.”

Kylee could imagine. Happy memories haunting every room would be bad enough. Memories of a loved one withering away would be excruciating. “And your friends? Do you miss them?”

He ushered her into a small cafe with a highway sign on it that read “Route 58.” “Yeah. But they got weird when she got sick. Like they thought it was contagious. By the time Dad said we were moving, I didn’t care anymore.”

He got in line and Kylee shuffled close to him, her shoulder brushing his. Paraphernalia and iconic New York symbols decorated the walls, but Kylee didn’t care if she was in New York, Virginia, or Egypt, as long as she was right here next to Price Hudson.

“I’m glad you moved,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

But he heard her. He turned his head, his face mere inches from hers. His eyes flickered over her.

“Can I help you?” the boy behind the register asked. His tanned skin and sun-bleached hair said he’d rather be outside than behind the counter, and the way he drummed his fingers proved the point.

“Yeah.” Price stepped up. “I’ll take a Reuben, please.” He pulled a few bills from his wallet.

“Want it in the combo?”

“Yeah.”

The kid handed Price a plastic tripod with a number on it. “Put this on your table and we’ll bring it to you.”

“Great.” Price bobbed his head at Kylee and headed for the patio outside. He pulled a red metal chair out for her. “Go ahead and sit. I’ll get us a drink. You okay with sharing? These sandwiches are huge.”

“Sure.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” Price pushed a hand through his brown hair, spiking it up. Kylee watched him slip back inside and settled back in her chair.

One of the bus boys lumbered out of the cafe, a backward hat on his head with the cafe’s logo on it. He picked up the plastic number from Kylee’s table and placed a tray with a sandwich and an assortment of side items on it.

“Thanks,” Kylee said, shooting him a smile.

He didn’t so much as grunt in response. Just turned around and loped back to the kitchen.

Price returned with a cup in his hand. He placed it in between them and sat next to her, scooting his chair around to her side. He glanced around the empty patio. “We beat the lunch crowd.”

Kylee looked at the clock nailed to the brick exterior. It wasn’t quite eleven. “What are we eating?” The sandwich was already cut in half. She watched Price unwrap one side, which looked more like a pastry than bread.

“Only the best.” He took a huge bite, white vegetables and slices of meat leaking from his sandwich onto the paper beneath. His next words came out jumbled, and Kylee laughed.

“Must be good,” she teased.

“Aren’t you going to have any?” He met her eyes over his sandwich.

Now that the food was here, her appetite seemed to have vanished. “I’m not hungry.”

He arched a brow. “You didn’t eat breakfast.”

She shrugged.

“Do you eat?”

“Yeah. When I feel like it.”

“Come on.” He shoved half of the sandwich toward her. “It feels weird eating by myself.”

“Okay,” she relented. “I’ll just try it.” She took a nibble of the edge, catching a piece of meat with her hand as it tried to escape. The sensation of flavors and seasonings burst like a water balloon in her mouth. She swallowed and took a sip of soda, shuddering at the fizziness that burned her throat and tongue.

“Lordy, that’s amazing!” she gasped. “What is it?”

Price leaned back in his metal chair, a pleased smile on his face. “Sprite.”

“No, no no.” She shook her head and gestured to the sandwich. “That. I’ve never tasted anything so . . .” She had no words for it. “So bright.”

Price took a huge gulp of soda and washed down his bite before responding. “It’s a Reuben strudel sandwich. Corned beef, pastrami, swiss cheese, and sauerkraut. This place makes the best ones.” He picked up an orange crinkle-cut fry and shook it at her. “Try the fries.”

“This is the best food ever.”

“You don’t get out much.”

“I know, right?”

He watched her, an amused smile on her face. “What do you eat at home?”

She shrugged, picturing herself in the kitchen, kneading dough, peeling potatoes. “The same thing. Rolls, roast chicken, and potatoes.”

“That sounds good.”

“Yeah, it was at first.” Kylee pushed her lips out and raised an eyebrow. “I’m tired of it now.”

“How often do you have it?”

He wasn’t getting it. “I told you. We have the same thing. Every night.”

His mouth dropped open. “Wait. Your mom makes that for dinner—every night?”

“Well, I make it for dinner. Every night.”

“Why?” He sounded incredulous.

“Because that’s what Bill wants. Even though he hardly eats it.” At least that meant sometimes she could serve leftovers and pass it off as a whole new meal.

Price shook his head. “That’s insane. He sounds psycho, man.” His eyes widened. “Oh, no offense.”

“None taken. There’s no love between us. He’s not my dad.”

“Well.” He watched her take a few more bites of her food. “At least you can taste.”

“Yeah?” Kylee arched a brow and laughed. “At least. That’s definitely a good thing.” She shook her head, still laughing. “You say the weirdest things, Price.”

His face reddened, but he grinned. “Yeah, well. Sometimes life is weird. So what do you like to eat?”

She shrugged. “Don’t know. I’ve never had a favorite food, I guess. I like chocolate.”

He tilted his head, regarding her, his amber-colored eyes somber.

“Come on, it’s not that weird,” she said, shifting under his gaze. “What about you? What’s your favorite?”

He lowered his eyes, finally. “The usual. Pizza. Ice-cream. Pop Tarts.”

“Pop Tarts?” She lifted a brow. “Like the little cakes that come in foil?”

“Yeah.” He grinned at her. “Why? Not good enough for you?”

His words reminded her of Bill. “Something like that. I like those things too.”

“Even the Pop Tarts?”

She couldn’t remember if she’d ever had them. She waved her hand and said, “Maybe not them.”

Price laughed, which had been her goal.

“Where are we going now?” Kylee asked as they exited the cafe and started down the sidewalk, moving farther away from the boardwalk.

Not that she cared. Price had taken her hand again, his fingers running over each knuckle. They could go nowhere, as far as she was concerned.

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