eleven. Right below Farley.
She’d seen it. She just didn’t want to be in possession of the knowledge.
Didn’t believe it. So she performed another search. This one for specific test score data. She rearranged the information by date, most recent first.
And the name rose to the top.
Mark Heber.
* * *
MARK WORKED HARD. He got home in time to finish the paper he had due by the end of the week for a freshman English class. Had a cup of hot chocolate with his grandmother while she sipped on chamomile tea. And he waited until he could slip outside his back door and sit in the dark with his beautiful neighbor.
She was already outside when he arrived, which surprised him. He’d been listening for her glass door to slide open. And he knew the second he sat down that something was not right.
The bottle of wine they’d opened the night before but hadn’t finished, sat chilled on the table beside two empty wineglasses. Sensing that the wine was there for a purpose—that he was going to need it for some reason not yet known to him—he poured two glasses, leaving only a little bit at the bottom of the bottle.
It wasn’t much if he found himself in sudden need of liquid tranquilizing.
She hadn’t said a word yet.
So he started in. “You free Thursday evening?” Until he knew they had a problem, there wasn’t one.
“Yes.”
Nodding, he settled lower in his seat, his untouched glass of wine on the table beside him.
“I invited Jon to drop Abe off at my place,” he said, watching her face for clues. She looked the same, albeit more formal than he was used to in her blue cotton pants, silk blouse and leather sandals. “I told him Nonnie and I would watch Abe for a while so he could have some time to himself.”
“I’ll bet he was thrilled.”
Mark shrugged. Jon and “thrilled” didn’t exactly go together. “He agreed readily enough. You want to join us?”
“Sure.”
Okay, then. She’d agreed to a date with him. Of sorts.
How bad could things be?
The stricken look in her eyes as she peered up at him told him things were bad, and fear sliced through him.
“You’re leaving.”
“Yes.”
“How soon?”
“By the weekend, I hope.”
“You’re dropping out of school midsemester?”
“I think so. I’m...still waiting to... I haven’t had confirmation on that yet.”
“What kind of confirmation do you need to drop out of school?”
“I need to know the consequences before I make my final decision.”
Mark listened to her words, but what he heard her say was that there was still a chance she’d be staying.
“Have you given notice on the duplex?” He dealt with facts.
“My rent is prepaid through the end of the year.”
“Can you sublet it? It’s prohibited in my contract.”
“I don’t know.”
She looked at him, but her eyes seemed almost vacant. He felt like he was seeing a stranger.
“You aren’t drinking your wine.”
Picking up her glass, she sipped and said, “You aren’t drinking yours, either.”
“I want to know what’s going on.”
To her credit, she didn’t immediately assure him that everything was fine. She didn’t say anything, which wasn’t like her.
“Is it the nightmares? Did you have a bad night last night?”
Or had something else happened to her? A crime that merited calling the sheriff? Dear God, had she been raped?
Shaking her head, she smiled. Sort of. Her entire expression looked...broken. “I haven’t had a nightmare in over a week. I’m out here tonight because I have to speak with you about something.”
“Addy, whatever is wrong, we can deal with it.” Did he sound as lovesick as he felt?
How did a guy who didn’t believe in love feel lovesick?
“I know we haven’t known each other long, but I think you’ll agree that we’ve got something between us.”
He held her gaze, and she nodded.
Feeling like he’d won a battle in a war he hadn’t yet been drafted for, he marched onward, as any good soldier would do. “I’m not the type of guy who shies away from trouble,” he told her. “If nothing else, I’m your friend. I’ll do whatever I can to help you in any way I can. I just need to know what’s bothering you.”
“Would you please quit being so damned nice?” It was her voice, in a tone he’d never heard.
Her eyes glistened and Mark didn’t want to hear any more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ADDY COULD DEAL with her own pain. She’d survived being nearly burned alive by her father. Survived listening to Ely’s screams—and then the silence as her brother died. Survived losing her mother. And