“Because I know there’s a ‘but’ coming. You’re about to tell me about that ticking time bomb, and your grandmother coming back, and how your mom can’t live in the same house with her.”
I wilt against the wall. Well? Those things are true. “I can’t make my mom and my grandmother magically get along. I’m seventeen, broke, and the only resource I have is Henry Zabka. That’s it. That’s my only card to play.”
“That can’t be the only solution.”
“Name a better one,” I challenge. “Go on. Name one. Stick around with my mom? Because I love her to pieces, but you have no idea what it’s like to be dragged around from town to town—no idea, Lucky. I can’t keep living like that. There’s no future in that for me. I feel lost all the time, and scared. And completely unstable. I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t find my way to the bathroom because I can’t remember which apartment I’m in—I can’t remember which town I’m in!”
“Let me help you.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
I huff out a hard breath.
“I really don’t,” he admits, gesturing openly with both hands. “I’m sorry. I haven’t figured that part out. But there’s got to be another viable solution.”
If there was, he’d be offering it up. Mister genius. Perfect SAT score.
“I came up with this plan before I knew you were here,” I say. “It wasn’t perfect, but it was a way out. Now it’s all completely messed up, and that’s before I even consider any of … whatever this is,” I say, gesturing between us. “So you don’t have to tell me that it’s flawed, because I already know that, okay? If it wasn’t flawed, I’d be knocking down the door of Coast Life magazine, begging them to reconsider me for the internship.”
“Hey. If you still want to go for that magazine internship, fine. Go for it—I mean, yes, you’d be working for a magazine that’s owned by a man who spawned Adrian Summers, but that’s your business.”
“Not fair,” I say, pouting.
“But seriously,” he says, holding up a hand, “if you want it, go for it. And if you want to be with your dad, if that is your one true dream, I would never stand in your way. But if it’s not? If it’s just a means to an end? If it’s just a place to run to? Then let me help you figure out an alternate route.”
“Why would my dad be a place to run to? He’s rich and famous, and he’s one of the most talented photographers working right now.”
Lucky sighs heavily. “Come on, Josie. It’s me.”
“I need to think about all this.”
He nods several times. “That’s fair.”
A terrible sadness falls upon me, draining all my energy. He’s right about a lot of things. I know better than anyone: Making attachments with people that you’re going to have to leave hurts. It’s why I never do. Ever. But here I am, breaking my own rules. Rushing back into old habits with him—and worse. Trying to make new habits with him.
“Maybe we should stay away from each other until this gets sorted out,” I say, a little dazed. “I guess that’s what you were trying to do over the last few days.” Detachment.
“No.”
“No?”
He shakes his head, pries my fingers away from my camera, and sets it atop the brick wall. Then he wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him.
“Dammit,” I whisper into his shirt.
“I know,” he says against my head. “I know.”
“If this is a pity hug …”
“Shut up. It’s not a pity hug. Let me hold you, okay? You could try holding me back. If it won’t kill me, then it won’t kill you.”
My arms are folded up between us. My last line of defense. “You don’t know that. It might. I’m cursed, remember?”
“Told you already, I don’t believe in curses.”
“Doubt they care if you believe or not,” I tell him, allowing myself to loll against his shoulder and chest—just a little. But I keep my arms folded up like a bird’s wings. I can hear his heart thumping, steady and strong, faster than I’d expect. I try to concentrate on it until my muscles relax a little more. He smells really good. I’d forgotten already.
“We’re going to figure this out, okay?” His deep voice reverberates through his chest and into my bones. “Your grandmother doesn’t come back for a year. A year is a long time.”