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“I mean, I’ve never held anyone’s hand who was important.”
“Thanks.” I huff out a laugh, finally dropping my hand only to cross my arms over my chest. “That’s so sweet of you.”
She grimaces, resuming her pacing. “Sorry,” she murmurs. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” I sigh, watching this darling girl spontaneously combust before my eyes. “What’s going on, Clo? What’s this really about?”
She freezes, her head snapping in my direction. Her eyes have grown impossibly wider, and I’m pretty sure she’s barely breathing.
“Wh-what makes you think something’s going on?”
I arch a brow, my foot tapping on the wooden floor. I may be far from being a mother, but I know a few tricks when it comes to dealing with deceptive teenagers.
Perhaps I learned it from watching Mama and Isaac handle Roman for so many years. He was a wild, chaotic teen.
Thoughts of the Roman I once knew, the one I grew up hearing stories about from my parents, fill my mind. Reminders of the small child they’d once loved and cared for, as though he were their own. The same boy that, in a sick twist of fate, became our family in a way I’d never imagined.
Then I think of the way he left me. Left Isaac. The way he fled in the middle of the night without a second look. Only a fucked up text, ending whatever relationship we’d been tentatively creating and breaking my heart in one brutal act.
“Miss Evie, are you even listening to me?” Clover cries, shaking me by my bicep.
I blink rapidly, focusing on the frantic girl in front of me. “Sorry,” I murmur. “What did you say?”
“I said,” she breathes, her hand digging into my arm. “Will you help me? Will you teach me how to get boys to talk to me? To like me?” Her eyes are teary, and it breaks my damn heart.
Oh, hell.
“Honey,” I coo, brushing her hands away so I can pull her into a hug.
Indecision wars within me. I can understand where she’s coming from. I sucked with boys when I was her age, too.
I huff a breath quietly. I still suck with boys. If it weren’t for the internet and my stepbrother, I’d be just as innocent and lost as she is.
Lord help me. I’m in no place to give any advice.
Not to mention, Ms. Willa will kill me if she finds out I’m helping Clover with boys. Worse than that—she’ll take it out on Clover, and that's not something I’m willing to risk.
She sinks into me, her head nestled against my chest. I squeeze her tightly, willing to give her every ounce of comfort I possibly can, before she goes back into that cold, emotionless house.
“Listen,” I start. “Let’s start small, okay?”
“What does that mean?” she mutters against the soft cotton of my dress.
I chuckle, patting her back before releasing her and stepping away so I can see her face. I palm her cheek. “It means,” I begin, my lips lifting in a full smile, “we start with the basics.”
She gives me a confused look, her brows scrunching adorably. “Basics?” she squeaks.
I nod. “What’s his name?”
Her mouth opens and closes, gaping like a dying fish, and I can’t hold it in anymore. A loud laugh bursts from me, and she lets out another shocked squawk.
“How did you know there’s a him?” she hisses.
She’s just so damn innocent, and I can’t help but imagine what I was doing earlier before coming here.
I used to be her. I used to be innocent. Now I’m—well, now I’m so far past the line of innocence, I don’t even know what the line looks like anymore.
Hell, it was just a few weeks ago, I was drunk in front of the entire congregation. Wandering around the church lawn with a tumbler full of alcohol and a heart full of jealousy about my hot stepfather flirting with Mary.
