Page 128 of Worth the Risk

He holds my gaze and nods, so much in his little eyes that I hate to add to it by leaving.

By leaving him, the one Malone who I know has fought for me.

I fight back the tears that threaten, and wave him over to my side. “I have to get going and you have to eat your lunch. Is it too uncool for you to give me a hug?” I ask, praying that he’s okay with it because I can’t go without getting one.

Even if it’s to assuage my own guilt.

“Of course not,” he says and winks. “I’ll just tell them all you’re my girlfriend.”

This kid. I tell you . . . he really is everything.

I hug Luke Malone as if I’m never going to see him again. I know I promised him I would, and I will . . . but who knows whether his resentment over my leaving will have kicked in and he won’t like me anymore.

I breathe him in. The little boy smell. The shampoo in his hair. The feel of his tiny arms as they squeeze me tight.

Then I force myself to leave before I make a blubbering idiot out of myself. As it is, I have to sit in the parking lot for several minutes, waiting for the tears to subside so I can see well enough to drive.

When I pull out of the school’s parking lot, it’s almost as if Grayson knows I’m stealing away in the light of the day without saying goodbye—a helicopter flies overhead. It’s white with blue graphics, and the numbers 4-4-5 are on the underside.

“Goodbye, Grayson.”

I can barely get the words out as I hiccup over the sob. He’s going to save someone. He’s taking a risk.

Just not on me.

I force myself to drive. I turn south to head out of Sunnyville, a woman so very different from the one who drove into the town a little over five months ago.

“What’s this?” I pull a white bag out of Luke’s backpack as I empty out his stuff. Luke’s grin grows as he runs over to me and snatches the bag from my hands. “Whoa, dude, where’s the fire?” I laugh before falling onto the couch with a sigh.

It’s been a long ass day. First the shift. Then getting Luke from my parents’ place. And now the whole bedtime routine.

Oh, yeah, and trying to avoid thinking about Sidney when all I want to do is drive over there and see her. But . . . clean break. It’s best this way. For both of us.

Maybe if I keep saying it, I’ll start to believe it.

“Miss Sidney brought this to me today at school.”

“She what?” Now that got my attention.

“She came to say goodbye.”

I rise from my seat as if in protest. “She what?” I repeat, not wanting to believe my ears but definitely hearing the sudden rush of my pulse in them.

Luke gives me a funny look. “She said she’ll be back for the party but that she had to go for now.”

I stare at my son and wonder how he’s taking this news better than I am.

She left? For like good, left?

“Oh. My. God. Holy. Cow.”

“What?” His utter astonishment pulls me from my confused thoughts as I look over to him and see his eyes wide and jaw lax. “What is it?”

“She . . . she had a Block made just like me.”

I feel like I’m walking through a fog.

She left.