“I’m sorry, Sarah.” He kissed her hand.

He saw the tears in her big eyes and he felt like kicking his own ass. Her painful expression twisted his insides. Damn it, how could he be so stupid? For all he knew her mom could be in a hospital somewhere. He leaned over and pulled her gently to him, kissing her head.

“God, Sarah, I’m so sorry,” he said, “I had no right --” She shook her head before he could finish.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s not your fault; there’s no way you could know.”

Know what? “So, tell me.” He said, then quickly added, “Or don’t. You don’t have to… if you don’t want to.”

He’d pushed her too much already. He wanted to be there for her, make her pain go away, but he had to stop being so damn pushy.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she said. “It’s just too embarrassing.” Then added in a hushed whisper. “…shameful.”

“What?” He lifted her chin gently. “Sarah, there is nothing you can tell me that would make me feel any different about you.” And he meant it. He had a feeling whatever it was, it couldn’t be anything Sarah had done. He couldn’t imagine Sarah doing anything shameful.

He pulled open the glove compartment and pulled out a napkin, handing it to her. She took it and cleaned herself up. “Can we get out?”

Angel pulled the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car. He walked around the car quickly, meeting her as she got out. He hugged her tightly, wanting her to feel just how sorry he was. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I’m an ass.”

“No, you're not,” she laughed.

She closed the door and they walked back to the exact spot they’d stood that first night. Sarah held onto the rail and he stood behind her, his arms around her waist. As they looked out into the ocean, Angel felt her take a deep breath.

“My mom’s in jail.”

He stood perfectly still. The last thing he wanted was for Sarah to feel he was judging her. He was determined not to interrupt and let her say what she wanted, and only what she wanted.

She turned to face him and he felt his heart sink, when he saw the tears in her eyes again.

“My mom is a good person.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to convince me.” He wiped away a tear that rolled down her cheek.

She threw her arms around him and he held her tight. After holding her for a few minutes, she pulled back and looked him straight in the eye.

“Things weren’t easy for us, Angel,” she said. “It’s always been just the two of us. We had no one else. My grandparents were non-existent, disowning my mom when she got pregnant with me. She was only seventeen when I was born, and I’ve never known my dad.”

Angel hung on her every word. His heart broke as she bravely sucked it up, refusing to let herself fall apart.

“Then I started asking for things.” Her voice was full of disgust. “Things she couldn’t afford, expensive running shoes, and clothes, and an iPod. I was selfish. She kept up with everything I asked for and I didn’t ask how. Deep inside I knew we couldn’t afford it all, but I didn’t care." She paused to take a deep breath and wipe her nose.

"Then one day, she sat me down and cried. She told me she’d been bad. I still don’t understand the whole thing but she took money from her boss. She’d been doing it for years. Embezzlement is what they called it at the trial. Now she’s doing three years and it’s my entire fault.”

She collapsed on his chest and cried softly. Angel held her tight, feeling an invisible hand squeeze his windpipe.

“It’s not your fault,” he whispered frantically in her ear as he kissed her again and again. He walked her over to the bench where they could sit, and sat her on his lap.

She sat up straight, composing herself, and looked at him. “She’s in a minimum security correctional facility in Phoenix.” She held up her fingers to emphasize the quote sarcastically.

Angel stared at her helplessly, taking her hand back in his and squeezing it.

“She doesn’t want me to visit,” she continued, “said she didn’t want me to see her like that ever. But there’s no way I can go three years without seeing her. I plan on visiting her, no matter what she says.”

“Can she call you?”

Sarah nodded. “Yeah, she calls every week and we write all the time, but it’s not enough.”

“Sarah.” He tried to sound optimistic. “People rarely serve their full term, especially when the crime wasn’t a violent one. She’ll probably be out before the three years.”

“That’s what her attorney told her,” Sarah said. “But she just went in so she’s still looking at at least a year and a half, if she’s lucky.”

Angel cradled her, kissing her forehead. She leaned on his shoulder. “The thing is Angel, growing up we moved constantly. I don’t know why, but most of the jobs she got would rarely last. Each time she got a new one it was time to move. Sometimes she knew it was going to be a short stay ahead of time and we wouldn’t even get an apartment, we’d stay in a hotel for a few months at a time.

"Up until I was nine years old we moved so much I’d been to more than a dozen different schools, sometimes moving twice in the same year. I’d given up making friends or even unpacking. It was almost a year after we’d moved to Flagstaff before I finally allowed myself to completely unpack.”