stiff from the cold. Then she could read some. She’d just gotten to the part where Lydia Bennett runs off with the scoundrel Wickham, ruining Elizabeth’s chances with Darcy.
Hannah could identify with Elizabeth Bennett on that score. She knew what it was like to have her own chance for happiness squashed like a bug beneath the shoe of other people’s bad behavior. That last thought caused a sob to rise in her throat. She let it escape, wiping at the splash of tears on her cheeks with the back of one hand. She was so tired. Not trusting anyone was exhausting. Always keeping her guard up, never a moment to relax.
She picked up her needles and opened the book she was using for the knitting project. The diagrams for the moss stitch baffled her, but she was determined. She concentrated so hard on the movement of her needles that she didn’t hear Josh until he plopped down next to her in the wet sand.
“Hey”
Her head snapped up, and she dropped her knitting. “What the—”
“It’s just me.”
Hannah scowled. “You really can’t take a hint, can you?”
“No. Not really.” He grinned.
If he had apologized again, continued to grovel, she could have kept up her defenses. But that lopsided smile pierced her where she was weakest, right in the vicinity of her heart.
“Won’t you get suspended from the team or something for cutting class?”
Josh leaned back in the sand on his elbows, his long legs stretched in front of him. “What are they going to do to me? I’m moving in a few weeks.”
“Good point.” She had to be cool, not let him see how much he got to her. She picked up her knitting and dusted the sand off of it.
“What are you making?”
“A sweater.” At least, it would be a sweater someday. No way could she finish it by the Knit Lit Society meeting next week.
“My mom made me a sweater like that once. It has those bumps in it,” he said, examining the soft green wool.
“It’s called a moss stitch.”
“Didn’t know that.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know, apparently.” The sarcasm slipped out against her better judgment.
“You know, I’d think that living with a preacher you would have learned to be a little more forgiving.”
“I’m forgiving. I’m just not stupid.”
“Touché.” He looked up at the branches above them and didn’t say anything else.
“What would you have done if you were in my shoes?” Hannah asked when Josh remained silent. “I don’t know anyone who gets all warm and fuzzy about being humiliated.”
Josh rolled to his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “I’ve already told you I’m sorry. I was stupid and wrong and idiotic and everything else you can think of. I messed up, Hannah. Now I’m asking for forgiveness.” He softly touched the back of her hand with the tips of his fingers. “I’m asking if we can start over.”
She refused to flinch at his touch or let him see that it in any way affected her. “Why bother? You’ll be gone soon.” The moment she said it, she realized she’d betrayed herself
Josh raised one eyebrow. “So you might forgive me? If I can convince you it’s worth it for the next month?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“But that’s what you implied.”
“Josh—” She sighed, then looked him square in the eye. “How could I believe anything you say?”
“You’d have to make the choice to trust me again.” He wasn’t smiling now. His eyes pleaded with her.
“Yeah, well, that’s the problem. I don’t trust you anymore. No, it’s more than that. You took away any reason I had to trust you in the first place. It’s gone, Josh, and trust isn’t something you just whip up out of thin air.”
“Actually, it is.” He levered himself into a sitting position. “That’s all it is, really. If you think about it, none of us has any reason to trust anyone else.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Of course you’d say something like that. You’re the one who screwed up.”
“I may be a partial idiot but not a total one. I have been known to learn from my mistakes.”
“And I’ve been known to be humiliated by them.”
“All right, then think of it this way. If you go to the spring formal with me, you’ll have the best revenge of all.”
“What?” The knitting needles in her hands jerked so that several stitches slid off the end of one of them. “Not funny, Josh.” She scrambled to get the stitches back on the