Page 12 of Shallow

He produces a small leather rectangle, and I blink a few times as it drops open, revealing a blue badge and an official ID. “William Kyle Emerson, South Carolina Department of Corrections.” He snaps the badge closed just as I reach for it. “Any morequestions?”

Yes, a thousand. But I’ll hold mytongue.

“You have my bags?” I ask, nodding to thetrunk.

“Ido.”

“Where are you takingme?”

“To meet your unofficial employer for the next three years,” he answers while opening the passenger’s side door for me. “He’s expectingyou.”

He’s expectingme.

As I reluctantly lower myself onto the black leather seat, I click my seatbelt with only one thing on mymind.

Please lethenot behim.

Four

Shiloh

Seven Years Ago

April –Prom

As I descend the stage,a herd of people mill around me. I force a smile to make them think I care, but inside I’m rolling myeyes.

“I knew you’d win,” Taryn squeals and flips her chestnut brown hair over her shoulder. At first glance, her smile seems sincere, but there’s a quiver on the right corner. It’s Taryn’stell.

Everyone has a tell when they’re lying, and if you think they don’t, they’re just skilled at hiding it. It’s a stroke of the hair, a twitch of the nose, a nervous bite of the lip. Or in Taryn’s case, a smile slip. She doesn’t know she does it. It’s best to keep that kind of information close to the cuff. Especially when you’re surrounded by people who’d offer you a ride in their car, then shove you in front ofit.

I’m not paying attention to her anymore because I feel him. I always feel him before I see him. I know when he’s watching me. It used to freak me out, but now it’s become a comfort—like a tattered blanket you really need to toss, but can’t because it makes you feelsafe.

That’s him. A safeblanket.

Taryn rolls her eyes and motions over my shoulder. “Oh, look, Shiloh, your puppy hasarrived.”

Even if I hadn’t felt his presence, her face tells me what’s about to happen. If I had any power to stop it, I would. However, as I hear his discreet cough behind me, I know it’s out of myhands.

“Congratulations, Shy,” he says. “I had everything crossed foryou.”

“Everything but your balls, since they’ve been tucked inside Shiloh’s purse since ninth grade,huh?”

I’m mortified. “Taryn!”

Ignoring me, she leans over my shoulder and gives him a slow perusal from head to toe. “Look at you all geek chic tonight. Where’s your date, LawnBoy?”

Carrick handles her like a polished iceberg, cold and unwavering. “I didn’t come withanyone.”

Before Taryn opens her mouth, I shut her down. “Enough. You know how I feel aboutnicknames.”

She knows. Everyone knows. I hate them—especiallyhis.

Turning my back to her, I give him a private smile. “Youcame.”

“I changed my mind. I wanted to see your moment.” Carrick’s ocean blue eyes scan my dress. “You look like you should be on the cover of amagazine.”

“Thanks.” I don’t argue. It’s easy to look like a million bucks when your dress costs almost as much. Flown straight from New York, the grayish-purple dress, complete with a floor-length tulle skirt and a bodice covered in Australian crystals, cost more than most people’s combined annual householdincome.