“Oh shit. Please don’t.”

   I started hitting him again, harder this time. He let me get a few good shots in before pulling the cushion from my grip. He threw it, hitting our picture on the wall. He got up quickly to straighten it before resuming his position.

   “It wasn’t that bad, actually. In fact, I want to hear you again. What was that song you used to sing?”

   I remembered the tune; Mom used to sing it all the time. Looking back now, the words held more meaning than I had ever realized. A lump formed in my throat, but I spoke through it. “Eric Clapton. Tears in Heaven.”

   “That’s right.” His mind seemed to be somewhere distant. He blinked hard, bringing himself back to the present. Then his eyes bore into mine. “Sing it?”

   “Clayton, I can’t—”

   “Please?” And there was that little boy I grew up with. The first, and only, person I’d ever let love me after my mom and aunt died.

   “Okay.”

   His eyes seemed heavy as they drifted shut.

   And I started to sing.

   I sang through the giant knot in my throat, the memories of my mother and of Clayton filling my mind.

   Clayton lay still, his eyes closed. I watched his handsome face, void of emotion. His eyes were red when he finally opened them at the end of the song. “I love you, Chloe.”

   “I love you, too, Clay.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

   Chloe

   The squeal of my hand brake made everyone turn and look. The yelling and laughter stopped, and the smile on Blake’s face faltered for a second. He quit skating and held the basketball under his arm, then did that flick thing with the skateboard to hold it upright. The kids tried to copy him and failed.

   “Hey, hon.” Mary waved from the swing seat as I got out of my car.

   I waved back before making my way over to Blake. “What are you doing here?”

   Sammy answered for him. “He’s playing skateball. You wanna play?”

   I looked down at him. “No, I’m good, thank you.” Then to Blake, I asked, “So?”

   His shoulders sagged. He released the ball, letting it bounce away. No one bothered to chase it. “I can leave. I’m sorry,” he said quietly, looking down at the ground.

   He got only a few steps before Sammy grabbed his arm, pulling down on it in an effort to stop him from going any farther. His helmet fell forward and covered his eyes, but he adjusted it quickly and said, “No. Stay, please. If she doesn’t want you here, she can leave.”

   Silence.

   My voice came out hoarse. “It’s fine.” I smiled at Sammy, then faced Blake. “You can stay.” I turned quickly and walked toward Mary, too afraid to witness his reaction.

   I tried to listen while Mary chatted, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Blake. I watched the way he moved on the board . . . The way he’d stop to help the kid . . . The way he ran to Sammy the second he fell off the board to inspect his scraped knee . . . The way he laughed and joked with Dean . . . The way he winked at me and nodded once, as if thanking me for letting him be there.

   And I knew it then. He was absolutely everything I had never let myself dream of having.

   “Dean! Amy has little-league practice,” Mary shouted.

   Dean looked at his watch and grumbled.

   “It’s okay.” I stood up. “I’ll take her, Dean. You keep playing.”

   Amy ran up the steps to get her gear while I walked over to Blake. “Are you going to be here when I get back?”

   He looked at his watch and frowned. “I have to leave in an hour to watch Tommy.”

   “Okay.”

   He grabbed my arm and gently pulled me closer to him and looked in my eyes. “Are we good?”

   “I don’t know yet,” I told him truthfully. “Maybe.”

   He let out a breath. “Maybe’s good enough.”

   Blake

   Skateball was exactly what the name implied. Basketball on skateboards. Josh and I had made up the game when we were ten, combining two of our favorite things. We’d thought we were so smart. We’d even talked about how much money we could make as pro skateballers.

   I stood in Mary and Dean’s kitchen, laughing to myself as I turned on the tap to fill Sammy’s water bottle.

   “Do you have any of your own brothers or sisters, Blake?” Mary said from behind me.

   I tensed at her question, wondering why she would ask something like that. And then it dawned on me—I’d been buying them gifts, showing up unannounced, hanging out with them for no real reason. Of course, I was overstaying my welcome. I shook my head. “No. I’m sorry. I’ll go now.”

   “That’s not what I’m saying. Stay as long as you want.” She pulled a container of ice cubes out of the freezer and proceeded to drop a couple in each of the water bottles. “It’s just that you’re very good with them, is all.”

   “Oh. Thanks, I guess.”

   “Did something happen between you and Chloe?”

   I tensed. I had known the moment was coming, but I didn’t know whether it would be with her or Dean, and honestly, I didn’t know which one I’d prefer.

   I couldn’t lie. “Yes, ma’am.”

   “The last time you were here for dinner? When you went up to her room . . . something happened?”

   “Yes, ma’am.” But then I paused, thinking about how that had sounded. “No. I mean—we didn’t sleep together . . .”

   “Okay . . . That’s not really my business, though. What is my business is the fact that she locked herself in her room and cried most of the night.”

   I gripped the edge of the sink and let my head fall forward. “Shit.”

   “It’s probably not your fault, Blake.”

   “To be honest, I still don’t really know what happened. I thought things were going well—and then she kind of just shut down.”

   It was silent for a moment before Mary finally sighed. “How long have you known Chloe?”

   “Not long.” I raised my head and stared out the window above the sink. It was the first time I’d noticed that they had a backyard. But it was overgrown. Unusable.

   “So you haven’t known her long . . . but she means something to you, right? I mean that’s why you’re here?” It came out as a question, but she wasn’t asking. Not really. “Chloe—she’s built walls around herself—ones that it took Dean and me years to break past. It hasn’t been easy. But you, Blake . . . I don’t know . . .”