I kept my eyes shut, kept moving back with him, feeling Bootsie against my leg following us. I was also feeling the sun, the warmth, seeing the lake in my head, Tucker in swim trunks doing a cannonball off the pier.

“No way, my cannonballs are the best,” I told him.

“Not as good as mine,” he said.

“Better,” I replied then kept talking in his ear as he kept moving us back. “I’ll bring a picnic. In a big basket. We’ll swim and we won’t wait thirty minutes after we eat.”

“We won’t wait.”

“We’ll jump in right after we eat. Bologna sandwiches. With cheese. And Ruffles, they have ridges. The cheesy kind. We’ll drink as much Coke as we want. Cans and cans of it. And we’ll eat frozen Snickers bars,” I said.

“Frozen Snickers bars. Sounds good.”

“Takes forever to eat them. It’s great.”

“Bologna sandwiches and frozen Snickers bars,” he agreed.

“Cannonballs and sun and water,” I said. “And nothing else.”

“Nothing else,” he agreed again.

“No one else,” I told him.

“Just us,” he said.

“Just us.” I nodded, moving his hands with my head. “And Bootsie, my doggie.”

“And your dog.”

We were moving up the incline I fell down and it made me think things I didn’t like.

I started to shiver.

“I been gone a long time, Tucker,” I whispered. “Daddy might find out I’m gone. He doesn’t like it when I take my walks.”

“Then let’s get you home, Sylvie.”

He knew my name. I didn’t know how. I didn’t care. I just liked how it sounded when he said it.

We’d made it almost to the top, he let my ears go but took my hand, turned me and kept us walking. I heard him give a low, quiet whistle and Bootsie trotted with us.

“It happen a lot?” he asked in a soft voice.

“Unh-hunh,” I answered and felt his hand squeeze mine.

“Your Momma… does it –?” I stopped talking when his hand squeezed mine again and he answered, “Yeah. Lots.”

I didn’t like that. I didn’t like the words for me. I didn’t like them for him either.

I squeezed his hand back.

He kept walking me toward my house.

“You know where I live?” I asked.

“Everyone knows all about the Bissenettes,” he answered in a way that was kind of funny. A kind of funny that didn’t feel good.

I didn’t say anything.

We kept walking, Bootsie at my side and we did this a long time.

Then Tucker asked, “You go out when it happens?”

“Unh-hunh,” I repeated.

“He ever catch you?”

“Yeah,” I whispered and the word was shaky but his hand gave mine another squeeze so I knew he knew why my voice was shaky. That squeeze made me feel better.

I saw the fence that surrounded our backyard in front of me and Tucker was leading me to the gate.

He didn’t say anything more until we got there. I thought he’d stop and I’d just go in but he stopped and didn’t let me go. He tugged my hand in a gentle way, like when I tugged at Bootsie when I wanted to pet her and she wasn’t close enough to me.

I liked it.

I looked up as he turned into me.

“Next time you gotta get away, Sylvie, you come to me.”

My breathing felt funny.

“What?” I whispered.

“It gets bad, you gotta get away, you come to me. I’ll take care of you.”

I stared at him.

“What?” I whispered again.

“We’ll talk about the lake and cannonballs and how I’m gonna buy you orange sherbet push-ups from Merlin’s store when summer comes.”

Oh wow.

I loved orange sherbet push-ups. They were the best.

I had this feeling, deep, deep in my belly that Tucker buying them for me would make them better.

“I’ll freeze Snickers bars for you,” I promised.

“Sounds good. I like Doritos. Cool Ranch.”

“Okay. Ruffles for me. Doritos for you,” I planned.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“Yeah.” I nodded.

I stared up at him and felt my nose sting even as I heard my voice come out in a super, super quiet whisper.

“You’ll take care of me?”

“My Dad said you always got something if you’re not alone. We were alone. Now, we’re not alone.”

That thing deep in my belly felt funny but it also felt nice.

“I don’t like being alone,” I whispered.

“You’re not anymore.”

That felt nice too. Nicer than my birthdays. Nicer even than Christmas!

I nodded.

His hand gave mine a squeeze. “Go in. Be careful.”

I nodded again.

“Happens again, Sylvie, my room is on the right side, first window at the back. Just knock on the window. I’ll hear you.”

I nodded again.

“Don’t let them see you,” he whispered.

And I nodded again.

His hand gave mine a squeeze before he let me go.

He opened the door of the gate and he did it super slow, being careful and I was thankful.

I started through, Bootsie at my side, and looked back at him.

I smiled.

He smiled back.

Wow.

It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw.

Then I slipped through the door, Tucker closed it slow and careful behind me and I did what I would do normally but also what Tucker told me.

I got in and to my bed and didn’t let them see me.

Chapter Five

Winner Takes All

Present day…

I opened my front door and smelled garlic.

Fuck.

Seriously?

I turned, tossed my keys on the table beside the front door, pulled my gun and holster out of my belt at the back, set it on the table and moved to the left into my living room.

A huge, tan leather duffle was sitting, gapping open on my couch.

Fuck.

Fuck!

Seriously?

My eyes moved around the room and I saw the ashtrays had been cleaned, the beer bottles and dirty dishes cleared away and even the throws on the couches folded. My eyes moved up and I noted the wonky, hot pink, star-shaped fairy lights I had wrapped around my mantelpiece in disarray had been straightened and artfully draped.

They looked awesome.

Shit.

I stalked the other way, through my dining room, which still had the mess of magazines, newspapers and mail that had accumulated for the last month (maybe two) on the top of my dining room table. I stalked through the room even though, over the opened bar that delineated it from the kitchen, I saw Creed at my stove, his back to me.