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  “Of course you do, but—”

  “No buts. I want to go on a normal date with you to a movie. So we are going to see a damn movie. End of discussion.”

  Crap. Normally she liked it when Dean brought out his bossy side—it was kind of hot—but not today. The movies meant going inside. And going inside meant taking off the scarf. It also meant low lighting, though, so maybe it would be all right.

  “Fine.” She tried to sound exasperated with him, but from his grin she knew he wasn’t buying it.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  The theater was nearly empty. Matinees were usually reserved for old people or little kids. The action film they were watching—she let Dean choose—wasn’t exactly kid friendly, so that left three older couples and one creepy middle aged man sharing the screen with them.

  Allie lingered in the lobby, looking over upcoming movie posters for a while and then excused herself to the ladies room for longer than strictly necessary, all in hopes that the lights would be down by the time they made it to their seats. It paid off. Just as they walked into the theater the screen expanded and the lights dimmed.

  Thanking fate, she slipped past Dean, careful to keep him seated on her good side. Still, she hesitated before removing the scarf. There really was no other rational choice, though, so she slowly unwound it and dropped it onto the seat beside her—in easy reach for when the lights came back up.

  Dean’s hand sought hers out on the arm rest and their fingers wound together. She sat like that, pretending to be enthralled by whatever the hell was exploding on screen now for almost half-an-hour before Dean leaned over to whisper in her ear.

  “Baby, what’s the matter?”

  She was usually so good at ignoring shit—just like her mother. When she was with Dean, she could just shut it all out for a while, but not today. Today her fucking nerves were going to give her away even if her face didn’t.

  “Nothing. Watch the movie, Dean. It’s good.”

  “Now I know you’re lying. Allie, look at—” His hand came up to cup her face and turn it to his. He wasn’t rough, but his touch was enough to make her wince and the damage was done.

  He yanked his hand back like she’d burnt him. Then, tilted her face into the light of the flickering movie screen with a feather-light grip on her chin. His eyes narrowed on her cheek and then his whole body went rigid.

  “What the—? Up. Now.”

  “Dean, the movie . . .”

  “Get the fuck up right now, Allie, or so help me I will carry you the hell out of here.”

  He wasn’t joking either, so Allie gathered up her coat and scarf and followed him out into the now deserted lobby. It was between shows and the only person out there was a gray haired man looking more than half-asleep behind the concession stand. Dean led her to arcade corner where their conversation couldn’t be heard over the noise of the many gaming machines and then turned on her.

  “What happened?”

  “It’s nothing, Dean.” She didn’t have a lie lined up. Why the hell didn’t she have a lie lined up? She hadn’t looked at it since the scarf came off so she really had no idea how bad it actually looked. But, from his reaction, she was guessing it was pretty bad.

  “Don’t give me that bullshit, Allie. Did someone do that to you?” He grasped her chin again lightly, tilting her face into the light. “Did someone hit you?”

  “No! Jeeze. Have a cow already, Dean. I tripped.” Classic lame-ass lie and Dean damn well knew it.

  His jaw clenched as he ground out, “Try again.”

  “Seriously, Dean.” She’d gone with the obvious lie, now she had to sell it. “I was running up the stairs this morning and I must not have stepped high enough because my foot caught and I tripped. Luckily, my face broke my fall.” Allie tried to smile, but it made her cheek ache.

  He was starting to buy it. She could tell by the way he’d relaxed his jaw. But his eyes continued to search hers like he still wasn’t sure what to believe.

  “If you tripped, then why the hell have you been trying so hard to hide it from me?”

  Time to bring it home and put an end to this whole miserable conversation. And nothing could end a conversation with Dean faster than turning on the water works. It was a low blow—only to be used in desperate measures—but if he thought he was upsetting her, he’d let it go. Every time.

  “Because, Dean. Because you’re my boyfriend. Because, God forbid, I actually want to look nice for you once in a while when we get to do something together. Excuse me for caring what you think and wanting you to think I’m pretty.” Yeah, not a whole lot of logic in there, but screw it. She’d just blame it on hormones or some crap later.

  “Allie . . .” Dean looked like he was at a loss for words and she felt a twinge of guilt, but at least the focus was off of her face for the time being. “I always think you’re beautiful. I know I probably don’t say that enough, but it’s the truth. I’m sorry if I didn’t make it clear to you. Shit, Allie, I should have—”

  “No. Stop.” Now she had him apologizing to her? Christ, she really was a bitch. “I’m just overly sensitive today. Not enough sleep, I guess. Can we just go and watch the end of the movie please?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” He took one last glance at her face, and there was something there, something in his eyes. A question that made her uncomfortable.

  Not stupid. Dammit, why couldn’t anyone in her life just be stupid for a change and cut her some slack?

  They finished the movie in awkward silence. It wasn’t so much the silence that was awkward—it was a movie theater, after all—more like them. They were awkward, together. They held hands, but sat stiffly side by side actively avoiding each other’s gaze. Awkward. When the film finally ended, Allie was so relieved that it hurt. She’d just effectively wasted the most time she’d had with Dean in weeks. It just sucked.

  Dean once again helped her into the passenger’s seat, but then hesitated to put the key in the ignition when he climbed up beside her. Allie prayed that whatever it was he was thinking, he’d just let it go. Someone somewhere must have been listening because the truck started with a loud rumble that almost drowned out Dean’s sigh.

  The ride home was just as strained as the theater had been. More so because there was no movie to at least pretend to be paying attention to. Allie made a few lame attempts at starting a conversation, asking how he liked the movie and equally benign bullshit questions, but when all she got in return were grunted one word answers, she gave up. When they pulled into the drive, they both just continued to sit there.

  Allie didn’t want to get out. She didn’t want to leave Dean and go back inside that house, but she couldn’t stay with him any longer, either. Her mental Ping-Pong came to an abrupt halt when Dean turned to face her. The firm set to his jaw and determination in his eyes sent her stomach plummeting.

  “I’m not an idiot, Allie.” Yeah, she already knew that. Unfortunately. “I don’t know what the hell is goin’ on here, but I know when I’m being lied to. I know about secrets, Al. You know that. And I get it if there’s some shit you don’t want to talk about, but don’t fucking lie to me. Okay?”

  Stunned that he’d actually called her on her bullshit, she just nodded like an idiot.

  “Darlin’.” Dean scooted closer and tugged the scarf away from her face. “I know I’m busy a lot of the time and I don’t give you the kind of attention that you deserve, but I’m always here for you. You know that, right? If you ever need me, I’m here. No matter what. Shit, Allie, I love you.”

  F-U-C-K! That was new. New and absolutely, positively terrifying. They’d been a couple basically since they were eleven years old, and he had never once told her that he loved her. This couldn’t happen. She couldn’t let it. Things had definitely gone way too freaking far.

  “I have to go.” Not the response he’d been hoping for, she was sure. “You’re gonna be late for work.”

  “Screw work.” No. No, no, no, no, no. Don’t do this, Dean. Do not do t
his. “Allie, talk to me.”

  God. Damn. It. He had to go and cross the fucking line. Allie didn’t even know when she’d drawn it, but she sure as hell recognized it when he went sailing right past it, dragging her along for the ride. And that was it. Things had been good while they lasted, but they’d gone too far. This needed to end. Now. And that didn’t just go for today. If he ever found out the truth . . . It just couldn’t happen.

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m sorry if I led you on, Dean. I never meant to, but things are getting too serious with us—”

  “Too serious? When the hell haven’t they been serious?”

  “I can’t do this with you now, Dean. I have to go.”

  “Allie!” His hand shot out and snatched her wrist before she could grab the handle to make her escape, and she flinched. Damn it all to hell, she flinched, and he saw. She knew he did, but he didn’t release her. Instead, he reeled her in and sealed his lips over hers, stealing away any protests she had coming.

  After years of kisses, he still had that ability. His lips were just so damn . . . perfect. Soft, and warm, and sweet. They always tasted vaguely of honey for some reason. She loved everything about those lips, especially the way they moved against hers. But better still were his arms. The way one latched firmly around her waist, hauling her even closer and holding her body against his while the other traveled north, up her back until his fingers wove through her hair. Nothing in the world made her feel more secure.

  Moments like this—wrapped in Dean’s arms—were just about the only times she’d felt perfectly safe for years. Like playing tag as children, when no one could touch you as long as you were on base? Dean was Allie’s base. As long as she was in his arms, she was protected.

  Dean’s hand dipped lower—pressing against the fresh bruise on her side—and a pained yelp slipped out. His entire body instantly stiffened and he started to pull away. She knew what he meant to ask, and she couldn’t lie to him. Not right then. Not when her emotions felt so raw it was like they’d been ripped from her and put on display. All he’d have to do was look at her and it would all have been over.

  So, she pulled another tool from her arsenal. Distraction. Allie ran her fingers through his soft, silky hair and pulled his lips back to hers before he could spoil the moment. Dean only hesitated a moment before giving in. He followed her down onto the seat. Her back pressed against the cracked plastic bench as Dean hovered over her, supporting most of his weight on the arms he’d planted on either side of her head.

  His lips never broke from hers, moving gently, careful to avoid the swollen corner of her mouth. Dean’s tongue traced the seam of her lips, and when her mouth fell open on a gasp, he dove inside. All thoughts of where they were fled with the renewed urgency of his kiss.

  This felt right, dammit. His solid weight, a shield from the rest of the world. Allie’s head spun with the intensity of the moment, distracting her from more important things. Like the fact that this shouldn’t—couldn’t—be happening. For several long, luxurious moments she gave in, allowed herself the indulgence of forgetting. Dean was the perfect distraction from her less than stellar life. And then . . . she remembered.

  “Stop.” She struggled to pull her lips from his. “Dean, stop.”

  Dean groaned as she squirmed beneath him, trying desperately to disentangle her body from his before she surrendered again. “Dean!”

  He pushed up to a sitting position again and lifted her up beside him, before dropping his head back against the seat with a sigh. They sat silently, side by side, as they both took a moment to catch their breath.

  “I have to go.”

  Dean’s head rolled against the seat until he was looking at her. He didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. That kiss had said it all. Reaching for that door handle was just about the last thing Allie wanted to do, but she forced her hands to obey.

  “Wait.” Dean’s voice was quiet and rough.

  He leaned toward her and for one insane moment Allie’s heart leapt and her brain threw up the white flag, screaming, ‘Screw it!’ But he paused before he reached her mouth. Swallowing hard, he veered to the side and brushed his lips over her bruised cheek.

  “I’m not letting this go, Allie.” His face was so close to hers that she felt the puff of breath with each word against her still tingling lips. “I’m not letting you go.”

  And that, right there, was exactly why she couldn’t. She couldn’t surrender. She couldn’t say, ‘Screw it’ and give into her desires. She could never have the ending she wanted.

  “Now, you’re really going to be late for work. It won’t look good on your performance report next month.”

  His gaze flicked to the dashboard clock and she knew she had him. He wouldn’t risk losing his job over this. Not when he needed it to feed his family. After a tense moment, he finally fell back into the driver’s seat with a defeated sigh.

  “This isn’t over,” he warned as she threw open the door and jumped out like she was fleeing a burning building.

  He sat in the drive as Allie raced for the house. Even as she did it, she couldn’t believe it was happening. She was running. Toward home. Away from Dean. When had things gotten so fucked up?

  When Dean started getting too damn nosey for his own good. For her own good. For anyone’s own good. That’s when. Allie shut her bedroom door quietly, careful not to disturb her father in case he was still home, and collapsed on her bed.

  Nothing good ever came from being nosy. It just caused more problems. God only knew the kinds of problems it could cause if Dean kept pushing. And he would, of that she had no doubt.

  If he found out her secrets, it would be bad. If her father found out that Dean found out, it would be really fucking bad. For her. For Dean. For the world at large. He’d probably explode and take half the damn planet out with him.

  Realistically though, it would be Really. Fucking. Bad. Dean was a hell of a lot stronger than most boys their age. She’d spent enough time drooling over his muscles to know that. But her father was no slouch either. She could attest to that. And he had a gun. Several, in fact. Something he enjoyed reminding her of every now and then by bringing one out and waving it around for a while.

  Allie had zero doubt that he’d rather go to prison for murder than child abuse. He’d told her so often enough. Apparently, murderers get more respect in prison. Go figure.

  He’d warned her over and over again for most of her life what would happen if she ever dared to leave. Hell, he’d reiterated the point just that morning in the kitchen. He’d kill her. And that wasn’t something Allie took as an idle threat. He meant it. He would kill her. Which was the only reason she was still living in that hellhole.

  But if she stayed . . . If Dean pushed until he got to the bottom of things, or reached his own conclusions . . . He’d kill them both. Her and Dean, and by extension, Dean’s family since they couldn’t survive losing him, too.

  No. No way was she letting Dean get dragged into her shit. He had enough of his own to deal with. There was really only one option. Only one way for her to keep Dean out of it. She had to go. She had to disappear so completely that no one—not Dean, not her father—would ever find her.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Allie had three hundred dollars, collected over years of saving, a backpack of supplies, and absolutely no destination in mind when she slipped out of the house in the middle of the night. She was already having second thoughts by the time she reached the local bus station, but she wouldn’t turn back. Scanning the boards, she chose the furthest destination listed and purchased a ticket.

  After settling into the hard bus seat, she rummaged through her haphazardly packed bag. There were some granola bars, a few bottles of water, some extra clothes, and—tossed in at the last minute—an old photo of her and Dean.

  The lights shut off as the driver took his seat and closed the doors. Slowly, the bus rolled out onto the street and away from the only home she’d ever known. There w
as no turning back now.

  Chapter Three

  Dean

  Allie Porter. Allie Porter was back in town. Well, hell.

  He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of that girl in six damn months. Not a word. Not a friggin’ whisper. Nothing.

  He’d heard about her mother a few weeks back, right after she’d been diagnosed. Small town news travels fast. And he’d wondered. It was the kind of town that people didn’t leave often. But when they did, they took off and never looked back. That’s exactly what Allie had done. Or so he’d thought. But then there she was, standing in her driveway and looking none too happy to be there.

  How she even found out about her mama he had no idea. As far as he knew, her folks didn’t have any better idea where she’d gone than he did. But somehow she was back. Like magic.

  Or a curse.

  Christ, that girl. He’d made every mistake there was to make with that girl. The day she left, he’d made the biggest idiot mistake of them all. He’d told her exactly how he felt. Said those three little words that he knew would change everything. Just not how he had hoped. He’d opened his heart to her and watched as she walked right in and tore it out. It wasn’t even that she didn’t say it back. It wasn’t even that she’d broken up with him. No, not her. Not Allie. She’d run. For the fucking hills. As far from him as she could get. Those three little words had driven her right out of town.

  But that was Allie for ya. She was the strangest damn girl he’d ever met. She wore long sleeves and pants most of the summer—even in triple digit heat—because she worried about skin cancer. Seriously, what teenage girl worries about skin cancer? And she was tough as nails most of the time, but she’d get into these funks some days and cry over the oddest things. On days when she was melancholy like that, he’d almost been afraid to open his mouth at all, not knowing what would set her off. He almost never understood it, but it always managed to make him feel like crap. Despite it all, he loved her for it.