Page 37 of No More Secrets

“Thirteen.”

So damn young. “Why didn’t you go to his place when you ran away?”

“His mom would have called my mom. I didn’t want Ellis to find me.”

Lucas pushes out a breath. He wants to bash the guy’s face in.

“What’s your last name?”

He blinks, startled at the sudden subject change. “Carson. Why?”

She shrugs. “No reason.”

He figures it makes him less of a stranger. “What’s yours?”

“You going to call my mom?”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Her lips purse, her expression circumspect. She gently, cautiously rests the blade on the counter. “Bloom.”

He frowns. “Your last name?”

She nods, and an odd, unwelcome ripple of unease coils in his chest, as if he’s been fated to end up here just so his life intersected with hers. Two wayward, broken souls.

Bloom, like a flower. Like Lily.

“Thanks for saving me tonight,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Good night, Lucas.”

“Good night, Shiloh.” She retreats to the spare bedroom, leaving him to wonder the exact opposite. She just might have saved him.

Too bad he isn’t worth saving.

18

Morning comes with the arrival of a blaring alarm. Lucas smacks his clock and realizes he has two things to be grateful for before he rolls out of bed. The other side of the bed is empty, and he isn’t hungover. Then he remembers the Honda Accord.

He swiftly gets up, heart racing, and parts the curtains. The car is still there, a dull gray covered in dust. It hasn’t moved, and it’s hard to tell if there’s someone inside. The sun is reflecting off the windows.

Backing away from the window, he tells himself he’s being paranoid. That run-in with the cop the other night has him thinking everyone is following him. Surely the cops would have made an appearance by now if that was the case.

Shaking off his anxiety, he goes to the bathroom, does his routine, showers, glances at the toilet tank while he brushes his teeth and does a double take, startled the switchblade isn’t there. Then he remembers why—Shiloh.

He almost forgot about the kid in his apartment. He scratches his neck. They should talk about what happens next with her, but it’ll have to be later. He glances at the clock. She’s probably still asleep, and he’s going to be late.

He pulls on jeans and a shirt, ties up his boots, and heads to the kitchen for coffee.

“Oh, my god, you’re Lucas Carson!” Shiloh shouts from where she’s sitting on the couch when she sees him.

Lucas’s heart explodes from his chest. “Jesus Christ.” He thought she was still in bed.

“You’re Jenna’s brother.” She clutches Lily’s books to her chest.

“Give me those.” He takes them from her, tosses them onto the kitchen counter, feeling ridiculous that he has them. He never should have purchased them in the first place. Anytime he sees them he gets a pang in his chest.

“What are you doing up?” he asks. It isn’t even six in the morning. Normally he wouldn’t be up either unless he went for a row on the bay at sunrise. But that was when he was living in Seaside Cove, and the Dusty Pantry opens at seven. He has to set up the deli counter and open the market.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She gets up from the couch and joins him in the kitchen, sliding onto a stool from the previous tenant. He left behind all the furniture, beds included. Up and died on her, Ivy told him when she’d shown him the apartment that first day. Everything was Lucas’s if he wanted it. George didn’t have family, and she didn’t have the money to hire someone to haul his belongings to the dump, which is where she thought everything should go.