Things We Left Behind (Knockemout, #3)

by Lucy Score

caught a glimpse of the bright smile she couldn’t quite hide as she ducked her head and reached for the CD player. I slid my arm around her shoulder and guided her head to rest on my chest. Between the pillows, Shania Twain’s “From This Moment On,” and the soft, warm heat of Sloane pressed up against me, I felt almost happy. I could nearly pretend that this was my life. Here in this house. With the good, sweet girl in my arms. The song was over too quickly, changing to a country anthem. Something about black eyes and blue tears. She was never going back. It must have been the exhaustion that painted the story in my head. Walking away. Moving on. Growing up. For a second, I wanted it so badly that I didn’t realize how tight I was clinging to Sloane until my fingers started to ache. Wincing, I relaxed my grip on her. She tilted her head to look up at me. “It’s okay. You can hang on to me. I won’t break.” I pushed her face back down and resumed my hold on her, keeping it gentle this time.