Breaking Ties Breaking #3

Tracie Puckett

© This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and

incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Tracie Puckett. All rights reserved, including the

right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the author: traciepuckettnovels@gmail.com

Manufactured in the United States First Edition September 2014 © 2014. All rights reserved. Cover Design by Damonza

To Lexy, for talking me down from the ledge. Every. Single. Time.

Chapter One

“Whoa, what’s gotten into her?” “Couldn’t tell ya,” I said, twisting my neck to look down the

hall. Bailey disappeared around the corner, and I looked back to Dad with wide eyes and a shrug.

If this was her desperate cry for attention, she was doing a marvelous job, given the way she’d stomped into the house and slammed the front door.

Dad looked up from his spot on the couch, marking a page in a script with his finger. A frown settled across his face, and I could tell from that look alone that he was just as clueless as me.

“Is she mad at you or me?” I sat, facing him at the coffee table in front of the couch, and

leaned over the beginning pages of an article I was outlining for the Sugar Creek High Herald. Prior to Bailey storming in, Dad was also engaged with work, evaluating a script and making notes in the margins.

Since giving up his job as mayor only weeks ago, Dad hadn’t had much luck in the way of prospective careers. Yesterday, though, he got a call from a guy, who knew a guy, who knew him, and he offered him the role of director for a series of community one-act plays out in Desden. Dad wasn’t thrilled about accepting the minimal pay or the position itself, but a job was a job, and money was money. Plus, working meant he’d make some contacts. Contacts meant networking, and networking could lead to something much more substantial in the long run. That’s how he justified it, anyway.

“Mandy?” “Hmm?” “Your sister,” he said. “Which one of us screwed up?”

“I don’t think it’s anything we’ve done.” I focused my attention back to the pages sprawled in front of me. I skimmed the first few lines before looking back to him. “She was like this with her friends at school today, too. Everyone’s been in her line of fire since she rolled out of bed this morning.”

I couldn’t pinpoint the precise moment it happened, but whatever it was that caused her moodiness must’ve been a real doozy.

As far back as I could trace it, it all started this morning. She was short with both Dad and me, when we sat down for breakfast. She stomped through the hallways at school and rolled her eyes at our teachers. She didn’t even show up in the cafeteria for lunch, and that was a big deal, considering her friends had waited all day for the latest gossip. When she was a no-show at lunch, her absence started a new string of gossip and speculation all on its own. It wasn’t like Bailey to blow off her friends.

But that was the thing: it wasn’t like Bailey. The Bailey I knew would’ve covered up her feelings and concealed them with a smile. And by acting out, she wasn’t staying true to her character. That’s how I knew this was a big deal.

She was a master at disguising her pain, heartache, and agitation. When she wanted to, she could make a person believe she was the happiest person on the planet, even if the world was crumbling at her feet—but not this time. The last time Bailey had acted out like this, it had all been for show. She threw her little hissy fit to con me into showing up at the Sugar Creek Park re-opening, but even then, it wasn’t real. Trying to remember the last real time … I couldn’t.

Bailey’s silence and distance was one thing, but the mean and hostile comments came in waves, when she was feeling particularly irked. Whatever happened to spark her bad mood, she was taking it out on nearly everyone in her path. I was among the many. Not only was she not in any mood to look at or talk to me,

she’d left me stranded in the parking lot after school today. I had to bum a ride from Fletcher just to get home. Bailey was, to put it nicely, being the biggest brat on the face of the planet.

“Trouble in paradise, you think?” “You mean with Jones?” I asked. “No way. I can’t imagine

it’s anything he’s done. They were practically sucking each other’s faces off just yesterday.”

“Nope. No.” Dad held up a hand to silence me. “There are some things I don’t need to know.”

“Well, it’s true,” I said, sitting straighter. “Jones seems to be the only person she’s not mad at. Maybe he knows something.”

He probably did, and I’m sure if I pressed hard enough, Jones would spill the beans, especially if he thought it was something I could help her with.

No. It definitely wasn’t Jones she was mad at. Just yesterday they were inseparable—holding and kissing, whispering, and acting all lovey-dovey … like they always did.

A sigh escaped me. They were kinda perfect together, Bailey and Jones. They had

everything they wanted and needed in each other. Bailey could rely on him, and Jones would never let her down. They told each other everything. He was always there, just like she was always around for him. He cheered her on; she celebrated his successes. Every departure included a hug, a kiss, and a promise to never stop thinking about the other. They were together, and they were happy. They were a walking definition of everything I wanted with Gabe. And even though I was incredibly happy for my sister and her boyfriend, I couldn’t help but feel the slightest twinge of jealousy when I saw them together—especially as of late. I wanted what they had.

I was so close to having exactly what it was that I wanted, but it still felt so far from my reach. There were still these tiny

moments when the insecurities got the best of me. Why hadn’t Gabe and I shared that one, earth-shattering, passionate moment? Why didn’t he hold me? Kiss me? Tell me his deepest, darkest secrets? Doesn’t he care for me the way Jones cares for Bailey? Am I good enough?

I sighed again. It was hard not to have those doubts. I’d pretty much given

him the perfect opportunity only a week ago, when we were standing on the front porch. I confessed my love to him, I opened up my heart, and I let him see the rawest of my emotions. But as Gabe seemed to do so well, he didn’t respond. He didn’t whisk me into his arms, pull me against him, and kiss my brains out. He just walked away, leaving me a little stung and confused.

I yearned for that first kiss—my first kiss. But you’re being impatient. “I know I’m being impatient,” I muttered under my breath as I

started scribbling notes into the margins. “I know.” I had to give him some credit. We were getting closer. Still,

setting what was probably a record pace for slowest start to a relationship in the history of the world. But there was hope. Yesterday he’d given me a note, asking me to meet him Saturday morning for a sunrise breakfast in the park. And if I’d learned anything from watching Bailey’s dating history, I knew that dates always ended one of two ways—badly, or with a kiss.

And a date with Gabe could never end badly. So that only left one possible option … “What’s with the goofy smile there, Mandy?” “Hmm?” I looked up to Dad. Oh, crap. Dad. And here I was talking to myself, sighing like

an idiot. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Right,” he said, opening his script again, but I didn’t give him time to start reading before I blurted—

“Gabe asked me on a date.” There. I said it. I told him. And I’d expected Dad to ignore me,

maybe look right back down at his script, like I hadn’t said a word. I thought he might grunt or groan, maybe even shrug or roll his eyes as he mumbled, “There are some things I don’t need to know.” But he didn’t do any of those things.

He leaned forward, scooting to the edge of the couch, and shut the pages in his hand. He angled his head downward, holding my stare with his big, brown eyes.

This could go very, very badly, I told myself, remembering the way he’d first reacted to Bailey’s dating adventures.

I mean, the first time Bailey brought a boy home, Dad shut the door in his face. The second time, he sat on the porch and grilled the poor guy for an hour before he ever let Bailey leave. Then there were the third, fourth, and fifth boyfriends, and they all got pretty much the same get-out-of-here-you’re-not-good-enough-for-my-daughter treatment.

And then there was good ole Jones. It took almost two months for Dad to agree to let him take Bailey on a real date. In time, though, Jones grew on Dad, and our father could actually admit that he liked the guy. But leading up to that, it was exhausting, watching Bailey and Dad dance around the whole dating thing. There were so many disagreements, so much disapproval, and so many arguments.

And now it was my turn. “Well?” I asked, hoping he’d say or do something soon. I

didn’t know how to read him. “Well?” Yes. This was definitely going to end badly for me.

“Are you … going to say anything?” “It’s about damn time.” “It’s about damn time?” I asked, almost as quickly as he said

it. That’s it? That’s the response I got? I’d kept it from him for an excruciating twenty-four hours,

mainly because I didn’t have a clue how he would react. I was too nervous to tell him yesterday, when it happened. I was a nervous wreck blurting it out just now. So I said it as quickly as I could to spare myself some grief. And then I braced myself, expecting (at the least!) that he would internalize his anger, which Dad rarely ever did. Any shred of anxiety added fuel to his temperament, and unfortunately for all of us, Dad lashed out when he felt even the slightest bit uncomfortable. But this time was entirely different. There wasn’t any indication of anger evident on his face, and I couldn’t see anything nasty bubbling below the surface.

It’s about damn time? Was Dad happy for me? I didn’t want to ask, but I felt like maybe I should. I didn’t

want to assume a thing! There were so many things wrong with my assumptions lately that I didn’t know where to begin. I didn’t want this to be another thing to add to my growing list of misunderstandings.

“What’s with the open mouth?” Dad asked, breaking the minute-long silence. “You want to go on the date, right?”

“Of course I do,” I said, breathlessly. “But I assumed that, when I decided it was time to hit the dating scene, you would put me through the wringer the same way you did with Bailey.”

“You’re not Bailey,” he said without pause. “And Gabe’s … Gabe.”

“Oh.”

“But don’t think you’re getting off so easily,” he said. “I’ll need a detailed list of your plans before you leave this house—where you’re going, when you’re headed out, and when you plan to be back. Curfew’s at midnight.”

“We’re having breakfast on Saturday, so I don’t think curfew comes into play here.”

“A morning date?” he asked, creasing his brow. “For your first official date, he’s taking you to breakfast?”

Oh, if he only knew. But I decided to spare him the details, because he wore the same confused look my sister and Jones wore when they found out about Gabe’s pizza-and-sunrise-at-the-park idea. Bailey said it was corny. She seemed to think that Gabe should take me someplace where we could both get dressed up and enjoy small talk over a candlelit dinner. Jones just thought the whole thing was bizarre, but what did he know? Jones had a hard time distinguishing between normal and bizarre behavior on any given day. The guy mixed hot dogs in ice cream and wore flip-flops in the dead of winter! He didn’t get a say. And Dad? Well, he’d probably agree with Bailey on this one.

“Breakfast,” he said again as if the idea was still too foreign to grasp. “That was his idea?”

“Yup.” “He’s not like other guys, is he?” “Nope, but you already know that, don’t you?” “You know I’ll need his number.” “Oh, God, why?” “In case you’re not answering my calls.” “Do you plan to call a lot while we’re on our date?” “No. It’s more of a just-in-case kind of thing—for

emergency’s sake.”

“I’m not giving you Gabe’s number, Dad,” I said, wagging my finger at him. “But nice try.”

“Nice try?” “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your whole ‘people with our

kind of influence need to stick together’ thing,” I said. “You’ve been trying to buddy-up with Gabe since the moment you heard his name. Bailey’s already cozied up and claimed his friendship. I’m trying to date the guy. The last thing I need is my Dad swooping in and stealing any more of his time. You guys have gotta leave something for me.”

Dad half-laughed and settled himself into the couch. He opened his script and searched for the page he’d lost.

“Listen,” I continued, eliciting his stare again, “if you call, I promise I’ll answer. And if I don’t, feel free to send a search party. But you know Gabe, and you should know me well enough to know that I’m not going to do anything stupid. We’re having breakfast, which obviously means we’re not going to be out late, and I’m not going to miss curfew.”

“Okay,” he nodded, satisfied for the moment. I sensed that even though he’d relaxed and released a long breath, Dad wasn’t quite satisfied with what little information I’d given him so far. He would probably push harder later, especially when it was crucial to have the details. For now, though, he seemed content enough with what he had. “Okay, then. I suppose you can go.”

“Yeah, but here’s the kicker, Dad: I wasn’t exactly asking for permission. I am going,” I winked at him and then gathered all of my pages on the table. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve gotta go find out what’s wrong with my sister before she blows a fuse and decides to murder us in our sleep.”

### I knocked three times on her bedroom door and waited for a

response. Nothing.

Two months ago, I would’ve expected Bailey to ignore me, but something had changed in the recent weeks. Minus a small rift and a minor silent treatment, we hadn’t fought much lately. Ever since Gabe came into our lives, Bailey and I both changed for the better. Suddenly, I was open to the idea of new friendships—relationships I would’ve never considered without his guidance. Bailey became kind and tolerable. Or she had been up until this morning.

I wanted to break through and find out what was bothering her. The few attempts I’d made earlier today had gone mostly unnoticed, so I hoped that reaching out one more time would do the trick. Hopefully, she would see how much it meant to me that we talked, and maybe it would actually mean something to her that I was trying.

And yet another knock resulted in nothing more than silence. “Bailey?” I asked, rapping softly on the door with the tips of

my fingers. “Is everything okay in there?” “Go away, Amanda,” she moaned, her voice muffled as if she

were crying into a pillow. And if there was ever any doubt that she was in a bad mood, there wasn’t any more. She’d called me Amanda—and I thought the days of her using that word as a weapon were far behind us. Apparently, they weren’t.

Maybe it was something I’d done. “Listen, I know you’re upset and you don’t want to talk, but

we’re worried about you.” When she didn’t say anything, I stood a little taller and placed my hand on the doorknob. “I’m coming in, okay?”

“Go away,” she said again, but this time I cracked the door, just in time to have a pillow thrown at my face. “Get out.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I walked in and kicked the pillow at my feet before starting toward her. My voice was strong and steady, but my steps weren’t as confident. Bailey had inherited

Dad’s short fuse. While he expressed his anger in words, she took to throwing and breaking things—lots of things. I still carried a scar on my right shoulder from her outburst at learning about Mom and Dad’s separation. It wasn’t anything major, just a deep enough cut to leave a scar and a daily reminder to stay out of her way when she was on the warpath.

I found myself dragging my heels across the carpet as I reached the corner of her canopy bed. I didn’t want to risk having anything else thrown at me, but I couldn’t very well leave her alone. Lucky for me, all she had left was one last pillow at her disposal, so I ruled out any potential injuries.

I took a seat on the corner of the mattress. She didn’t waste a second to sit up, throw her feet over the side, and stand. She stomped across the room, keeping her back to me, and sank into her desk chair. I didn’t have to see her face to know she was crying.

“Bailey, what’s going on?” I watched as she lifted her hand to wipe a tear. “We’re worried about you.”

“I never asked you to worry.” “Well, of course not,” I said. “But that’s not how things work

around here. We’re family. We love you; therefore, when you start acting out, we’re inclined to worry. See how that works?”

“Just go away, Mandy,” she said, and this time she didn’t seem so angry. This time, she sounded defeated.

I sat on the bed, watching her. I could sense there was something she wanted to say, something she felt like I needed to know. But I already knew she wasn’t going to say anything. Bailey always took it upon herself to carry the weight of the world. Just like when she’d overheard Dad on the phone with Ripken all those weeks ago and knew we were moving back to California, she kept it to herself. Like Dad, she was stubborn in that way. She didn’t think it was necessary to open up, to let people help her when

things got too hard. She was always the kind to keep everything on the inside, letting it boil up until it boiled so hot and so high that she couldn’t manage it on her own.

Only then would she finally explode. But I didn’t want to wait for that. I loved her too much to watch her world implode.

What happened? Why was she so upset? I ran a list of scenarios all day, but nothing seemed to line up.

Unplanned pregnancy? Sure, I could see that happening. The way she and Jones were all over each other in public, I didn’t want to imagine what happened behind closed doors. But the more I thought about it, the less likely it seemed. If that were the case, and Bailey was pregnant, Jones would be among the many people she was lashing out at. He’d probably get the brunt of it. It was likely, but not the most likely possibility, so I only thought harder. What could it be? Was it possible that she’d only woken up on the wrong side of the bed?

“You know you can talk to me,” I said, and this time she turned around, her red and puffy eyes meeting mine.

“Mandy,” a tear slipped down her face, “you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not I like it,” I said. “You’re my sister. So tell me. Talk to me. Whatever it is, I’m here for you. What’s going on?”

She sniffled once and took a long breath, this time opening her mouth, ready to spill her guts. “For the past few—”

And then her phone rang and interrupted her, halting her in the middle of what I knew was going to be an explanation of her outlandish behavior. The phone lit up on the desk, where it was plugged in, and she turned back, glanced down to the screen, and ripped the cord out of the wall. With one angry throw, she thrust the phone across the room, and it crashed against the far wall, cracking the screen before smashing to the floor.

I watched the silent phone lay there on the carpet for a moment, quiet and broken, and then I looked back to my sister.

“I’m guessing you didn’t want to take that call?” “Get out,” she said, angry again. “Leave!” “Bailey—” “Leave!” she screamed, turning to grab her lamp. And I

already knew what was coming next; she was going to yank that cord out of the wall and throw it, and I did not want to be on the receiving end of it. So I fled the room, shutting the door quickly behind me. And then there was a loud crash against the door. The lamp, I had absolutely no doubt, was shattered to pieces.

“I’ll be in my room if you change your mind,” I said quietly but at least loud enough so that she could hear me.

I turned down the hallway and into my own room, in time to hear Dad bust through my sister’s door and yell at her for throwing and breaking things.

She fired right back at him, matching his angry tone. She was more determined to get rid of him than she was me because there was another crash. Another bang. Another loud scream.

The arguing continued that way for ten minutes. I couldn’t make out all the words, just that they were yelling. And I imagined, by the time Dad gave up and left her room, there wasn’t much left in there that she hadn’t destroyed.

“All right, let’s get something straight right now,” Dad said, turning into my room. I looked up from my desk, setting my article aside. “You and your sister do not make the decisions around here. I do.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” “And you will not walk around making rules for yourself and

ignoring my authority.” “Okay?” I pushed my chair away from the desk and turned to

face my father. “Dad, what happened in there? What did she say?” “You two are getting far too comfortable with these bad

attitudes,” he said. “Allow me to remind you that I am your father. You don’t get to talk to me like I’m another one of your friends.”

“Whoa, wait. Hold on. I’m not the one you’re mad at,” I said, finally standing up. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You do need my permission to leave this house, in case you’ve forgotten. You require my permission, Amanda.”

“Oh, again with the name-calling!” “You’re not going on that date,” he said. “What?” My heart caved in on itself. “Wait, no. No, Dad.

Why? I thought we were joking around in there. I wasn’t being serious. I know I need your permission, and you gave it to me. You said I could go. I have to go!” Dad didn’t fire back; he just stood there, his face as red as Bailey’s was when I ignored her order to stay out of her room. “What am I supposed to tell Gabe?”

“I don’t care. Call him, text him, send a carrier pigeon. I don’t care, but make sure he gets the message. You do not get to leave this house on Saturday.”

“But—” “You heard me.” “But what did I do?” “My house, my rules.” “No,” I said. “No! Twenty minutes ago you said I could go.

You said that!” “And now I’m saying you can’t,” he said. “You and your

sister need to understand one thing—I’m in charge. Me. Not you, not Bailey, not anyone else. I make the decisions. She’s grounded, and you’re walking a pretty thin line yourself.”

“For what?” I yelled. “I—didn’t—do—anything!”

But it didn’t matter. I could’ve yelled for the rest of the evening, and it wouldn’t have mattered because he left, and I had no one to yell at.

Somehow I’d taken the blame for whatever it was that Bailey had said or done to him. So Bailey’s problem had become my problem, and I was determined to find out exactly what that problem was. And based on the way Bailey freaked out at the sight of a simple phone call and Dad’s sudden shift in mood after talking to my sister, I had a pretty good idea exactly what was going on in the Parker household. And there was a good chance it had everything to do with the one

person none of us ever wanted to see or speak to again—Mom.

Chapter Two I could’ve dwelled on it for the rest of the evening, but there

was no point hanging around and fighting a worthless fight. And there was certainly no use in sulking. Dad wouldn’t look at me. He wouldn’t talk to me. And I wasn’t even going to attempt another shot at Bailey.

So I left. Thankfully, I had prior commitments, anyway—promises I’d made long before every person in our house flew off the handle. I gathered up the necessities, filled my shoulder bag, and headed out the door.

Ten minutes later, I was immersed into a world free of family drama. The Sugar Creek soup kitchen was kicking off for the evening, and I was there to cover some Raddick Initiative news for the school paper. And since I’d tried so hard to escape my family, I’d shown up to the church a little too early, leaving me to sit alone on the front steps. Thankfully, though, Fletcher showed up a little early, too, so I had some great company to keep until it was time to go inside.

“Have you heard the band yet?” Fletcher asked, opening the folder I’d given him yesterday. It was full of specifics, broken down into even finer details, about the dance finale for our district’s RI team.

He pointed to the name in the binder. “Is that what they’re called? Extra Bacon?”

“Yup, that’s their name,” I said, snickering at the goofy name that Jones had come up with for their band.

Jones liked to the tell the story that the band name came to him in a vision, a sort of futuristic dream where he saw the four of them on stage, and Extra Bacon scrolling on marquees all across the country. That was the line, anyway, the story he liked to tell everyone. But I was the only person who knew the truth, and he’d made me promise a long time ago that I’d never tell: the only

reason he pitched the idea for Extra Bacon was because he liked the way it sounded as he ordered breakfast at Maurine’s one morning.

“Yes, I’ve heard them. They’re using our garage as practice space. They’re going to put on one heckuva a show; wait till you see it.”

“I look forward to it,” he said, taking a swig from his water bottle. And then there was this brief moment of silence, this second where I knew he was leading into something bigger with all this RI small talk. That moment was followed by a grin, and I leaned forward at the sight of his smile.

“Okay, what?” I asked, trying not to smile myself. Fletcher had one of those contagious attitudes; it was hard not to mirror every subtle expression. He was an all-around happy person, especially right then, and I was eager to know what was on his mind.

“I’m glad you’re here early this evening.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he talked, nervous about whatever it was he was going to say next. “I actually showed up a little sooner than I normally would, hoping I might catch you before I got trapped in the kitchen. I didn’t want to miss you.”

“Yeah, why’s that?” I asked. “You’re not backing out on me, are you? Fletch, I told you. Bailey will help cover all the bases for the dance finale. You can count on her.”

Or at least I hoped he could. I was counting on her to hold up all the promises I’d made to him.

“No, it’s not about that,” he said, looking down to the folder. “You actually seem to have covered everything anyway. It’s something else entirely.”

“Okay?” He took a deep breath and let it go.

“I’m going with my parents on Sunday for an informal tour of DU,” he said, and though he tried to maintain a blank expression, that smile of his kept beaming through.

That’s one of the many things I adored about Fletcher; he couldn’t even think about college without busting into a smile—and not any college, but Desden University. I swore there must’ve been something magical about that place, the way it captivated so many people. I, like Fletcher, had my sights set there, and only there, because of that magical feeling. Because I knew it’s where I belonged.

I’d known since the moment I’d first picked up one of their brochures at a college fair. Holding that piece of paper in my hand, staring down at the pictures of the buildings on campus … I felt it. It wasn’t the fact that it was only minutes away from the place I called home. It wasn’t the beautiful scenery or even the highly celebrated sports teams. It was more than that. It was this indescribable feeling. And actually showing up there, walking the campus for that first time with Gabe, it only solidified those perfect feelings I’d had.

“Neither of my parents went to college,” he said, interrupting my DU daydream. “And they’re not very supportive of my decision to go.”

“On the tour?” “To college. Period.” “Why?” “They’re skeptical. They’re so uninformed about the whole

process, and I get it. It’s hard to get excited about something you don’t understand,” he said. “Dad dropped out of high school his junior year to work with his dad, and then he spent his twenties building his own auto body shop from the ground up, no college courses necessary. He’s a firm believer in hard work, nothing else.”

“Oh.” “And Mom dedicated her life to raising a family.” “And that’s perfectly fine. That worked for them,” I said. “But

you’re not them.” “Obviously.” “They should want this for you, Fletch, if it’s truly what you

want.” “I want you to come with us,” he said quickly. “To tour the

campus. I know you’ve been there; you know the lay of the land. I’ve been there three or four times on my own. But I think having someone there who believes in this process, someone who’s even planning to be there at the same time I’ll be there … I think it will make them much more comfortable with everything.”

Why me? He had all of his acting buddies, all of his friends from the drama club. He had a close-knit group of friends he sat with at lunch every day, worked with at his part-time job, and even hung out with inside the RI group. I didn’t understand why he’d ask me of all people.

“Because you’re the only person who understands it,” he said, reading the question play across my face. “No one else wants this as badly as I do. You’re in. You’re going to Desden. And if I have my way, I’ll be one year behind you. Mandy, please?” he asked. “I know you don’t owe it to me. You’ve already given me so much, with everything you’ve done for the RI program. But if you would—”

“Oh, my God, Fletch, I’m not going to make you beg,” I said, laughing. “I’d love to go with you. If you think it will help you help them, then yes. Count me in.”

There was this tiny flicker of relief in his eyes, and his shoulders relaxed. He knew he could count on me, and that’s all he was hoping for.

“Thank you.” “They’re going to have to understand,” I said, putting my arm

around his shoulder. “Your life is taking you out of Sugar Creek. You’re a star, and you belong at DU. And after DU, probably somewhere in Chicago or on Broadway. You’re gonna go places, Fletch. And when you win the RI scholarship and finally get to Desden University, you’re going to be right where you belong. And I hope we can help your parents see that.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling again. “You know, I don’t think it’s been said enough, but you’re a great friend, Amanda Parker.”

And then I smiled, too. Because for the first time in a very, very long time, hearing someone say my full name didn’t sound too bad.

Fletcher gave it new life.

Chapter Three “It’s been the biggest blessing of our lives,” Haley Goodwin

said, lowering her eyes to her seven-year-old daughter. “It couldn’t have come at a better time. We truly needed this.”

I put the pen to paper and scribbled her quote. Even with the digital recorder rolling between us, I wanted to ensure that each of her words were captured and recorded on the page. I’d watched her for ten minutes, listening and writing as she talked with me, and I gave each one of her words the time and attention they deserved.

Tonight I wouldn’t be distracted. Tonight I was going to forget about everything happening at home. This was about friendship, about helping people, about accomplishing something. And for now, my focus belonged only to Haley and Amanda Goodwin.

I only wished I would’ve taken the chance to give them that special time and attention when we’d first met at the clothing drive a few weeks ago, back when I was still heavily involved with the program and helped little Amanda find some warm clothing for the winter. Since, I’d learned very little about the woman sitting in front of me—only that her name was Haley, and like I’d always suspected, she was a single mother without many options for getting by. But Haley had been good to me, letting me get a small glimpse of their lives and how things had changed since the RI program started in Sugar Creek.

“Everything that you, your friends, and the Raddick Initiative have done for us … we’ll be forever grateful, Mandy. I can’t thank you enough.”

That’s what I loved about RI; it was creating opportunities and new beginnings for people who needed and deserved them the most—people like Haley and Amanda. It worked beautifully for everyone inside and outside of the program. The rewards were mutually beneficial, whether you played a part in making the change or the change somehow impacted your life. I knew,

because I felt like I’d been on both ends of what RI had to offer. Sadly, it had taken me far too long to see the true meaning of

what we were doing. And I used the word we very loosely… since I wasn’t part of the group anymore.

I was no longer competing for the district or the scholarship. Two days ago, I’d thrown in the towel, called it quits. Somewhere between being called out on my selfishness by one too many people and my own self-awareness, I knew it was the best possible solution for the Sugar Creek district. I had to leave the team. It was the only way they would ever stand a chance at winning, especially after all the scandal I’d caused with—

“Gabe!” The loud squeal of seven-year-old Amanda elicited the stares of almost every patron in the church. Little by little, they lost interest and turned back to their respective conversations and meals. Amanda, though, sprang from her seat and ran at him.

The Thursday night soup kitchen, as always, was bringing in dozens of families from all over Sugar Creek. Driving out to the church this evening created a great opportunity for me to not only walk away from my crazy family for a night but to walk among the crowd and talk to some of the locals, obtaining quotes from the townspeople about the impact of the program on their lives.

I’d quit the team, yes, but there was no keeping me away from it. Inherently, I knew it was exactly where I’d always belonged. My friend Georgia knew, too, and that’s why, as editor of our high school paper, she’d assigned me to the cover the remainder of the RI program for the Herald. So there I was—right back where I wanted to be, but in a much better position. I was hard at work, covering the action, but never lifting a finger to help. I had my place, and officially unattached from RI, I could stay close by without raising any suspicion.

“Hey there.” Gabe’s voice was breathless as young Amanda slammed into his midsection and wrapped her scrawny arms around his body. He whisked her off her feet, swung her around in

a circle, and only stopped long enough to smother her inside a giant hug. He set her on the ground, both of them smiling.

“I haven’t seen you since you came to my house!” Amanda squealed, her eyes widening as she watched his expression soften further. “Did you read the note I gave you? Huh? Did you?”

“I did,” he kneeled down to her level, this time tapping her nose with the pad of his index finger. “It was very sweet of you to take the time to write that.”

“Thank you,” she said, her cheeks glowing a bright shade of pink.

“And I hope you don’t mind, but I shared your letter with Mandy here, too.”

I looked over my shoulder, trying to pretend it was the first time I’d looked in his direction. Gabe didn’t need to know that I hadn’t taken my eyes off him since the moment he approached the table. He didn’t need to know that I’d already scanned every inch of him with adoring eyes, admiring how well he pulled off nothing more than a t-shirt and jeans. And he most definitely didn’t need to know that every moment he’d shared with little Amanda had only made me respect him more.

I caught a glimpse of Gabe’s smile before my eyes darted to the little girl in front of him.

“You read my note, too?” she asked, turning to me. “I did,” I recalled the sweet words she’d written to thank Gabe

for all the wonderful things he’d done for her and her mother…and all of the kind things she’d even said about me. “It was a beautiful letter.”

“After everything you’ve given us,” Haley said, speaking for the first time since Gabe walked in the room and her daughter’s squeal interrupted the interview, “no amount of thanks will ever be enough.”

Gabe’s eyes met the mother’s. “We’re glad to help however we can,” he said, tousling

Amanda’s pin-straight hair before standing tall once again. “I was only stopping to say hi. I’ll leave you to your dinner.”

The little girl fought to smooth her untidy hair at once, but the wide smile and dimples on her cheeks gave away her clear admiration for his playfulness. With a wink, he started to walk away when I turned fully in my seat and stared in his direction.

“Excuse me, Gabe?” He stopped and pivoted back. “Yeah?” I loved the way he looked at me just then—yeah?—a lifted

brow and curious stare, all shaded beneath that faded ball cap he favored so much. It amazed me how something as small as a simple look could leave me so breathless, and yet there I sat, unable to form even the smallest sentence … which wasn’t good, because I was the one who’d stopped him from leaving.

“Mandy?” “Huh?” “You need something?” His eyes widened as he looked around

the busy dining hall, and I took the opportunity to shake myself free of whatever Gabe-induced trance I was in.

“Right, yes. You came over here just now—” “To say hi.” “But you never did,” I said quickly. “You didn’t say hello.” There was a pause, a quiet moment when it seemed as if all

the bustling around us had quieted to complete silence. Even little Amanda said nothing to that, and she hadn’t been at a shortage for words all night. She, like her mother and I, stared at him—his blue eyes burning on my face. The moments grew longer, quieter, and before too long, a small grin pulled at the edge of his lips.

“Hello, Mandy,” he finally said, and then his smile broke—full-fledged, ear-to-ear, and goofy as all get out.

“Hi, Gabe.” I tried to play it cool, not to let him know that his smile had gotten the best of me. But Gabe always got the best of me, and he would’ve been a fool not to know that by now.

He let go of a breath, and his chest fell with relief as he realized he was off the hook with a simple hello. I’d caught him off guard, put him on the spot. I kinda liked that.

He turned on his heel and disappeared into the kitchen. I sat staring at the door where he’d vanished, lost in a moment, hoping he’d come back out to shine that perfect smile or show his beautiful face once again. Even if we didn’t get past awkward hellos, it would’ve been worth it, just to stand there staring at him. But the seconds ticked by and he never returned.

A tiny throat cleared, and I snapped my head in Amanda’s direction.

“Hmm?” “He’s your Prince Charming, isn’t he?” she asked, climbing

into the chair next to mine. She twined her arm through mine and dropped her head on my shoulder, letting go of a small, dreamy sigh. “You know, like in the books and movies, when a princess falls in love and lives happily ever after with the handsome prince? That’s you and Gabe, right? He’s your prince?”

“Amanda,” her mother scolded. “That’s none of your business.”

“It’s okay.” I rested my head on top of the little girl’s, happy I couldn’t see the hopeful glint in her eyes.

“Well, isn’t he?” she asked again. “Is Gabe your happily ever after?”

There was a clear reason I didn’t answer her right away. I didn’t know how to answer her. I couldn’t very well destroy the

childhood illusion of love, romance, and happy endings, nor could I honestly say that I believed in the notion of Prince Charming.

If there was one thing I’d come to learn in recent weeks, it was that nothing was ever as perfect as the movies or books led us to believe—not our friends, certainly not our families, not the men we fall in love with … and, most importantly, ourselves.

Yes. Gabe was the guy who’d weaseled his way into my heart with no apparent intention to leave. He was everything I could imagine holding on to forever, and yes … he was becoming a dream come true. But life and the relationships I’d witness blossom and just as quickly fall apart, they’d all taught me that even those good relationships, shared by the greatest people, have their hard times, their big secrets, and their major insecurities. I had them. Gabe had them. And those weren’t the kinds of things that those fictional happily ever afters were built on.

Happily ever afters were built on perfection, and perfection didn’t exist. There was no such thing as a real Prince Charming, a perfect life, or a seamless ending. It didn’t work that way.

But what I knew for certain was that there was Gabe, someone with history and intensity that I admired—someone who made me feel things I never dreamed I could feel, someone who’d sparked my passion for friendship, and who had an incredible knack for fueling my emotions—the good, bad, and the ugly. And how could I ignore a spark that made even the smallest things in life feel so intense?

It wasn’t perfect, but it felt like a great recipe for happiness. It felt right, and that was something I couldn’t walk away from. It was something I could never deny.

“You know what?” I said, and she perked up, eager to hear my answer. “I’m not sure Gabe is a Prince Charming, but if he were, I’d be happy to be his princess.”

That elicited a smile from both Amanda and her mother.

I thanked the both of them for allowing me to impose on their dinnertime, and I even extended an offer to Haley to help out from time to time—to take Amanda off her hands for a few hours here and there if she ever needed a night to herself. I didn’t want to lose contact with them after the program came to an end, and offering to babysit every now and then was the least I could do.

We exchanged numbers, and I collected my things and said my goodbyes for the evening. As much as I dreaded the return home to my father and sister, I couldn’t overstay my welcome. I left the Goodwins to their meals as I headed for the front doors of the church.

“Leaving so soon?” I stopped the moment my foot hit the first concrete step. The

dining hall door shut slowly behind me, drowning out the noise inside the building. I jerked my head to find Gabe as he turned the corner of the building, having left through the kitchen door around back. He didn’t come any closer, only stopped where he was and maintained those fifteen feet of distance.

“Yeah, I think it’s time to head out.” I readjusted the bag on my shoulder. “I’ve bothered enough people for one night. Georgia will be happy with the interviews.” I tilted my head and stared at him, noticing that he’d stopped looking at me and riveted his stare to the dark, night sky. He kept his gaze fixed there, looking as though he hadn’t heard a word I’d said to him. “Gabe?”

“Hmm?” “Whatcha doin’?” “Thinking.” “About?” “Did you read my note?” he asked quickly, turning to look at

me. His quick, shallow breaths left his mouth with a rasp, and

though his eyes were now fixed on me, I could sense his eagerness to look anywhere else. He was running on nerves, much like I was back in the dining hall. It was in his voice, the way his hands fidgeted at his sides. It wasn’t the cool, collected Gabriel Raddick I was so used to being around. Something had changed in a matter of minutes, and this version of him was much more reserved, a little more tuned into the fact that we were completely alone—that there was nothing standing between us. It was a Gabriel Raddick that suddenly realized the ball was no longer in his court, and he was now waiting impatiently to learn whether or not I’d read the endearing note he’d scribbled onto a card and handed me yesterday.

“Your note?” “The note I gave you,” he said. “Have you read it?” I shook my head, playing dumb at his expense. It was cute, the

way he let his nerves get the best of him. For once, it was nice not to be the one blubbering.

“Oh, right,” I said, nodding. “Yeah, no. I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“Oh,” he scratched the back of his head. His eyes shifted to the ground, and he kicked the pebbles at his feet. “Well, if you get time—”

“Gabe?” “Yeah?” “I’m kidding,” I said, and he peeked up at me before lifting his

head again completely. “Of course I read your note. And … ” I thought about Dad, the way he adamantly refused to give me

permission to go on the date. He wasn’t about to change his mind, not after the way he’d yelled at me earlier. But I felt like the biggest problem Gabe and I had was our horrible timing. The timing had never been right. I knew he cared for me, probably as much I as cared for him. No guy would keep coming around if he

didn’t care, and Gabe kept coming around. He was always pulling for me, for us—he’d proven that every time he’d shown up out of the blue, even when we were risking everything by being seen together. And now that the time had finally come and we were so close to having our chance, the only thing standing in our way was Dad’s approval.

I couldn’t stand for that. “Yes.” “Yes?” “I’d love to meet you at the park on Saturday,” I said, pushing

all thoughts of Dad aside. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and if he did happen to find out … well, I’d cross that bridge when we got to it.

“Yeah?” “Yeah.” I bit my lip. I didn’t expect his surprise, but there was genuine

shock in his stare. He had to have known that I’d read his note the moment we parted ways. If Gabe knew anything at all, he knew how I felt about him. I hadn’t been the least bit reserved about expressing those feelings. Of course I would want to meet him at the park—before sunrise, after sunrise, with pizza, or without it. I didn’t care. I wanted to spend time with him. I wanted our love story to begin.

“Great, yeah,” he nodded, standing tall again. “So then … I’ll see you in a couple of days?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” I tried to play it cool, because one of us had to, and God knew it wasn’t going to be him. I loved that. I loved that I seemed to be the one person, the one thing, that could trip him up and make him lose his composure. “See you then.”

I walked by him, cool in my stride as I made my way to the edge of the parking lot and to my car. I felt his eyes glued to my

body the entire time I moved. I reached the driver’s door of the car and turned back, only to have my suspicion confirmed. There he was, all the way back where I’d left him, watching me.

And then that goofy smile formed on his lips and contagiously found its way to mine, and there I stood, smiling like an idiot. My shoulders slumped as I watched him, my bag falling down my arm and landing at my feet. I swallowed a sigh as I watched him stand there, not wanting me to leave any more than I wanted to leave. But I had to go. The project wasn’t mine to worry about anymore, and I’d already done my part for the paper. Gabe should’ve been inside helping the team, not out there watching me leave. But neither of us seemed to care; I know I didn’t.

I left my bag on the ground, where it had fallen, and jogged around the car, all the way up the parking lot, and back to the front of the church, where he stood.

“Forget something?” “Yeah.” I nodded as I stopped short in front of him, wrapping my arms

around him in a rib-crushing hug, squeezing him as tightly as little Amanda had held him earlier. I buried my face in his shoulder, smiling as I felt his head fall forward and rest on mine. He pressed a warm kiss to my hair, and then his hold loosened, and I mustered just enough willpower to pull myself back.

“I’ll see you Saturday, Gabe,” I whispered, lifting my chin to meet his gaze. And then it drifted lower, and I traced his lips with my eyes, watching the way they twisted into a beautiful curve. I perched myself on my toes, stretching up as tall as I could, to press a small kiss at the corner of that perfect smile, barely brushing his lips.

I didn’t wait for a reaction; I backed away, finally pulling us apart. I started back to the car, moving a lot faster than I’d moved the first time I headed that way. I reached the car again, swept my

bag off the ground, and looked to see him one last time before I left. He stood there, firmly in place, touching the tiny place on his lip where I’d kissed him.

I abandoned my impulse to run back to him again, to fall into his arms, and let him kiss me—really kiss me—because that tiny peck wasn’t nearly enough. But I knew that the right time would come. Saturday. I was confident of that much. And the moment would be perfect, because there was no doubt in my mind that Gabe wanted it as badly as I did.

So I summoned every last ounce of strength I had to open that car door, slide inside, and drive away from Gabriel Raddick.

It was the hardest thing I ever had to do.