She bit her lip and looked around. People walked around us with their umbrellas, all trying to duck into the shops until the rain stopped. I shivered in response and waited for her to say something.

“You chose the right place to be then.”

If she only knew I had no choice whatsoever in the matter.

“Yup, guess I did.” Seriously I was getting nowhere with this girl.

All flirting genes apparently died in the car accident, while I was left very much alive and very much a loser. What a bright future I had!

I walked underneath the overhang and gently pulled her to my side. I could see drops of water fall out of my messy blond hair and onto my nose. “What’s your name?”

She shrugged. “That’s not important.”

Okay, different tactic. “Why the sudden Good Samaritan act?”

She laughed. “Ah, so he has read the Good Book.”

“Once or twice.” I grinned seductively.

“Then you should get your story straight.”

“Pardon?” I had the sudden feeling I was way out of my league. Trapped, without a way out.

“I wasn’t coming to rescue you.”

“So you were just going to walk by?”

She threw her head back and laughed, causing the hood of her jacket to fall back. Golden brown hair cascaded down her back.

My mouth dropped open. She really was a beautiful girl.

“Actually…” She placed a hand on my arm. “I was thinking of beating you and then passing you by.”

“And what purpose would that serve?” I smiled. I couldn’t help it.

“I would feel better.”

“And I would be beaten on the side of the road? Is my lot in life to be killed by roads or something?”

“Huh?” Her eyebrows drew together.

“You don’t watch much TV, do you?”

She shrugged. “We don’t have a TV.”

“Internet?” My mind was seriously going to explode. How did she live?

“Nope.”

“Phone?” I was grasping at straws here.

“For our house?”

I leaned in, my eyebrows raised up as if to say, Duh.

And again her teeth held captive her bottom lip as she looked away in thought. “I think we used to. But now we just have cell phones.”

“Thank God!” I shouted a little too loudly.

She shook her head like I was the weirdest person on the planet.

“I, umm…” I shifted the bucket to my other arm and scratched my head. “What I meant was…” Channel the Bible. “You should be thankful, or blessed, or something that you have, um, technology?” Yes, Demetri, she’s going to be eating out of your sticky taffy hands in no time.

“Right.” She chuckled and looked away. “Well, guess I’ll see you later.”

As she walked off, she stopped in her tracks and turned around. “By the way, I really did have a reason for coming out here… you know, other than to cause physical harm.”

“Oh yeah?” I grinned slyly and winked, waiting for the inevitable.

“Yeah.” She nodded her head and pointed behind me “Your car’s about to be towed. It’s parked in the handicap spot.”

Chapter Three

Alyssa

It was harder than I thought. Talking to him, I mean. To be honest, I hadn’t any idea how famous he was until some girls I’d graduated with ran into the shop and began giggling like little kids.

That was kind of how my life was, though.

Ever since the accident two years ago, I felt shut out of everything. Like I was a shadow going through the motions. Trying to smile at all the right times, and laugh when it was expected. I was the best worker my parents could ask for. I was first to arrive, last to leave. First to take up someone else’s shift. I even graduated early, so I wouldn’t have to be around the reminders anymore.

I liked life better that way. Predictable.

When you planned things, well, it was almost like some cruel joke from God. That once you told Him your plans, He’d try to ruin them. My parents said it wasn’t God’s fault — they also said it wasn’t mine. Did that make it Brady’s?

I shoved my hands into my pockets and hurried into the store. Rain always depressed me. That meant I was living in the worst place on the planet. If I needed cheering up, I had to go tanning in order to soak up some fake sunlight.

Last Christmas my parents even put special lights in my room, so I would smile more.

I’ve smiled less ever since.

Well, until five days ago.

When that idiot rock star actually stood on a street corner and sang about Taffy, and then proceeded to roll his h*ps to the beat in his own head, I wanted to call him a dang fool, but I couldn’t pull my eyes away. Something about him was magnetic — which should have been my first clue to stay away.

Brady had been magnetic too. He was perfect, charismatic, the star of the football team.

And look where that love got me.

A year out of high school, still living with my parents, and the inability to drive anywhere more than an hour away for fear that I would have a panic attack and die.

I pushed the door to my parents’ store open. The bell jingled.

That idiot had started work today, and our sales had never been worse. He was such a spectacle that even people who didn’t know his music wanted to go check out the taffy store. Which was great for our competitors, crappy for us. It’s not as if I could just find some famous person and beg them to wear one of our shirts and throw taffy at people. What the heck was he doing anyway? I even watched him schmooze an old lady. Did the guy have any shame at all?

I would die before I let anything happen to my parents’ livelihood, and I would happily take Demetri with me. It wasn’t as if I had anything exciting going on now.

Shoving the door to the counter away, I went back to the stool and picked up my cell. Ten missed calls.

“Crap.” I quickly scrolled through the missed numbers.

It was Mrs. Murray, my counselor. I looked at the clock on the wall. “Crap!” I said again, grabbing my keys and running for the door. “Dad! I’m going to be late for my appointment!”

He appeared from the back room. “Oh, okay, Honey. You need me to drive you?” His eyes briefly held mine before looking down at the ground. He knew how uncomfortable cars made me after everything that had happened.

“Um, no. I’ll be fine. It’s only a few miles away. Love you!” I heard him tell me to be careful as I ran out the door.

**** I ran into the large beach house and practically beat down my counselor’s door.

“Alyssa! I was worried you weren’t going to make it.” Mrs.

Murray was in her late forties and wore spectacles that constantly slipped down her nose. Her brown hair was always in a bun, and she always dressed as if she was in a hurry. In fact, she did everything like she was in a hurry. Everything but the listening and talking part of her job. I imagined she would probably work in her sleep if she could.

I gave her a tight smile. “Yeah, well, I’m here.” If I didn’t show, she would just tell my parents, and then I’d be on suicide watch for no reason. At least that was the fear. It wasn’t as if she could do that based solely on the fact that I didn’t show up. But last time I didn’t show up… well, let’s just say my parents caught me in my bathroom staring at a bottle of ibuprofen and flipped. I told them I had a headache, but that was the exact moment my dad also asked me to open my hand. I swear the bottle had spilled, and I was just trying to put the pills back in. But they didn’t believe me.

Nobody did. Story of my life.

The smell of peppermint tea greeted me as I waltzed into the small office and took a seat on the leather couch. Mrs. Murray did an amazing job with the ambiance. I could almost forget that she was a shrink, and I was there to tell her all my innermost secrets and feelings — almost.

“So.” She fell into the leather chair across from me and pulled out her notepad. “We’re almost to the two-year anniversary of the incident.”

I wanted to give some sort of snide remark. I mean, hello? I was living this nightmare. Believe me, I knew exactly what the day was. I knew exactly how many days I had left, and even if I could forget, my nightmares constantly reminded me of the hell I was living every single day.

“Yup.” I managed to shrug nonchalantly. I should have been an actress. With a quick smile I leaned back onto the couch and exhaled, knowing what she was going to ask next.

“And how do you feel about that?”

“How do I feel?” I repeated, feeling the familiar anger thump through my chest. “I feel fan-freaking-tastic. I mean, I’ve learned so much about myself in these past two years. I’m going to take up watercolors to share my feelings. And hopefully, later this afternoon, I’ll frolic across the beach and giggle until I fall to my knees and pet a mermaid when it joins me on the sand.”

“Sarcasm.” Mrs. Murray scribbled something on her notepad and glanced back up. “Good. At least you’re not burying your anger inside anymore. What else?”

Sweat began to pool at the back of my neck as I fought to keep my emotions in check. My eyes flickered to the ground, and my breathing grew more and more shallow. “I hate it here.”

“We’ve been over this, Alyssa.” Mrs. Murray sighed. “I know you hate it here, but do you really think the best thing for you to do is escape your current situation? So, what? You run away instead of facing your fears? Your anxiety? Tell me how that will help you, and I’ll be all for it, Alyssa.”

I bit my lip in response and tucked my hair behind my ears.

Biting my lip was a nervous habit I developed when I was either trying to keep myself from talking too much or crying. It was usually the latter these days.

“Listen, Alyssa.” Mrs. Murray set her tablet on the table next to her and leaned forward. “I’m going to be doing a summer grief group. I really want you to think about attending.”

“You’re not going to make me?” I snapped. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but I always felt defensive, because I knew the only way I could please my parents was to come here. And in all honesty, I also knew that I probably wouldn’t be here in the first place, if I hadn’t gotten into that truck.

I owed them.

Just like I owed Brady.

“I’ll think about it,” I mumbled.

Mrs. Murray smiled. “I think you’ll really enjoy it, Alyssa.

There will be some other kids your age. Support groups offer exactly that, support. When was the last time you even went out with friends? Or went to a movie?”

“I work.” I shrugged.

She lifted an eyebrow and grabbed her notepad to scribble something else. “Right, so you work twenty-four seven, can’t drive more than ten miles outside of town, and you think you’re just fine?”

My eyes flickered to hers then back to the ground, and I swallowed slowly. “I know I’m not fine.”

“Go on.”

“It’s just… I don’t think I’ll ever be fine again. I feel broken.”