Page 91 of Anton

“You look…sad.” She squints at me. “Is it a boy? Because Savannah says boys break your heart and never bother to put it back together. So did a boy break your heart?”

How the hell is this child so perceptive?

“Um…no?”

Crap, I can’t even lie to a kid.

She rolls her eyes. “He’s not worth it.”

“Did Savannah tell you that too?”

“Nope.” Her chin pops up, straightening her back proudly. “I heard Gran say that to Greer once.”

“Oh. Well, maybe we shouldn’t be listening to adult conversations.”

“What fun would that be?” She flips her chestnut curls over her shoulders and grabs my hand. “So, what are we gonna do today? Ooh, can we go get ice cream at the diner? Please?”

She gives me that pleading puppy dog look, and I can’t even fathom saying no.

But what if Anton shows up? What if he’s been stalking every place I go just to see me again?

“Can we? Pretty please?” Rue stares up at me, hope written all over her face.

“Anything you want, Ruebear.”

“Yay! Best day ever.”

ANTON

As soon as Thora leaves the farm with Rue, I follow them. If this is how she wants to do this, fine.

By the time they get out of the car, I’m already behind them, and Thora’s shoulders tense a second before I say her name.

“Thora.”

She stops dead in her tracks.

The kid turns first, her face tilting as she looks me up and down with a whole lot of curiosity. “Who are you? And how do you know my aunt?”

I ignore the pint-sized interrogator and keep my attention on the woman I can’t get rid of.

And I don’t just mean murder. She won’t leave my fucking head.

Thora gradually turns, her expression going blank, which only pisses me off. I know I deserve it, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

She glances toward the diner door like she’s calculating how fast she can get inside and away from me. “This isn’t the place.”

My hand balls into a fist.

Rue peers from me to Thora, then back again, her little eyes narrowing. “I don’t think my aunt likes you very much, so maybe you should go.”

My nostrils flare.

Oh, she likes me plenty. Too much, in fact. That’s the problem.

I glare at the kid, not caring much that she clearly already hates me. Feeling’s mutual.

“Aunt Thora?” Rue tugs on her wrist without taking her eyes off me. “What’s wrong with him? Does he talk?”