“I wasn’t rude.” Amelia glared.
“You’re being rude right now.”
“I’m making the same face you are!”
Linc opened his mouth, then shut it again. Couldn’t argue there. He tried to relax his features. “Fine. But…no fighting before coffee.”
Amelia perked up, pushing away her napkin drawing. “Can I have some?”
“You’re too young for caffeine.” He hesitated, glanced at Zoey. “Right?” Man, there was so much he didn’t know.
“How about a compromise? A little coffee mixed with milk.” Zoey smiled, which immediately leveled out the tension hovering over the table. How did she always do that? “Miley over at Chug a Mug makes a mean decaf latte, if you ever want one.” She paused. “Well, depending on the weather, of course.”
“Whatever. This town is weird.” Amelia grabbed a straw wrapper, began folding it.
She wasn’t wrong, but still. This washistown. Linc took the wrapper from her. “Enough with thewhatevers. This isn’t going to work if you have an attitude.”
“Great.” She slapped her hands flat on the table. “Then send me back home.”
He leaned forward. “There’s no home to go back to.”
Amelia’s take-no-prisoners expression faltered. Zoey’s hand landed back on his arm, still mildly sticky. “Linc.”
“What?” He looked between them. No time to gloss over anything. They’d already been tossed into the deep end—might as well start kicking. “She deserves the truth.”
“What are you talking about?” Amelia frowned. “What happened to my apartment?”
Zoey shot a warning nudge into his ribcage.
But they didn’t need to baby her. Like Amelia kept reminding them—she was almost fourteen. The social worker should have told her everything from the beginning. Now that, too, was being pawned off.
Would Kirsten’s choices ever stop haunting him?
“Your mom didn’t renew the lease.” Linc held Amelia’s gaze. “Looks like you’re stuck with me for a while, kid.”
Amelia’s throat bobbed. She looked at Linc, then Zoey. Pressed her lips together.
Then bolted from the bench.
Aye. Guess hanging out with him was a sentence worse than death.
The bell clanged on her way out. Linc shoved his hands into his hair, forgetting it was tied up. The loose knot on top of his head slipped, and his fingers tangled. He growled, wrenching them free and scooting sideways against Zoey. “Let me out.”
“No. Give her a minute.” Zoey grabbed the edge of the table, holding on with both hands as Linc tried to bump her out of the booth.
He pressed against her again. “She doesn’t know her way around town yet.”
Zoey dug her heels in, held on tighter. Pretty strong for someone who refused to exercise. “She’s not going far.” She pointed out the window, where Amelia hesitated on the sidewalk by the stop sign on Village Lane. “See?”
The knot in his chest loosened, but only a bit. Was that how parents felt, all the time? Mildly panicky? He briefly closed his eyes. “I’m really bad at this.”
“I’m glad you see that.”
He opened his eyes, narrowed them at her. “Where is that annoying, perpetual optimism when I need it?”
“It’s not very optimistic to lie.”
His shoulders tightened again. She was one to talk. “Aren’t you doing the same thing?”
