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smells, the stifling heat, the gnawing pains of hunger.
For the past few years she’d owned the shop, Dani had slept
so good in her own bed, in the safety of her home, that she’d
almost forgotten what it was like. Almost. She didn’t think it
was possible for things to get worse after foster care, but then
she’d aged out, and living on the streets for a few months had
taught her what never sleeping felt like.
Andi, on the other hand, was bright and chipper when she
walked in the door. “Good morning!” She stalked over to the
counter, dropped her backpack down, and pulled out several
sheets that she’d stapled together. “Properties. In this area.
Some are a little further out, but I think they could—whoa.
Whoa, there. What the heck is that?” She pointed to Dani’s left
hand.
Stupid. So freaking stupid. How could I forget to take this
off? She’d been back for all of ten seconds the day before, so
Andi hadn’t noticed the ring.
“Uh, it’s nothing. I don’t want to get into it.”
“What do you mean it’s nothing?” Andi gaped at her.
Dani twisted the ring off and stuffed it into the pocket of her
jeans. She imagined it throbbing in her pocket like her heart in
her chest. No, not like her heart. Her heart didn’t throb. Other
places didn’t tingle. Not when she thought about the girl
upstairs asleep on her couch. Not when she thought about
Emily Radcliffe in any way, shape, or form.
She ignored the strange twinges in her body and the
unpleasant side effects of who knew what—maybe she was
coming down with something—and rifled through the sheets
Andi had presented.
“Some of these are sale only,” she said, making it clear she
