The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys 1)

“There’s a picture of me right next to that quote in a book somewhere.” I stared down at the tissue in my hands. “God, I’m such a coward.”

“You’re not a coward.” Nancy’s voice was firm. “How many times did you see Mr. Whitmore in here last winter?”

“Not very much. I figured he was working…”

“He was. But he was also scared. River and Amelia, too. They got over it, but it took time. It’s very difficult to look at someone you love and see only the day they might leave you.” Her voice gentled. “The urge to protect one’s heart is the strongest urge of all. But it’s also impossible if you want to live a rich, full life.”

I thought back to the night Miller almost died in my arms. And seeing him outside the dance with Amber. The pain was knifelike and brutal. There was nothing rich or full about a life without Miller in it. Or watching him be with someone else.

Especially when I was the one who drove him away.

I dried my tears and put on a smile. “Thanks for talking with me.”

“But you don’t believe me,” she said gently.

“I appreciate your advice, but there’s nothing I can do.”

“Talk to him?”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me, and I can’t mess up what he has with…her. They’ve been together for months now. The last thing I want is to cause any mo

re trouble.” I smiled grimly. “Another proverb: I made my bed and now I have to lie in it.”

Alone.

I got to my feet. “I’ll go tell Dazia she’s no longer banished.”

At the door, Nancy’s voice stopped me. “If we were all born perfect and wise, always making the right decisions and never any mistakes, there wouldn’t be much point in living, would there?” I turned, and she was smiling knowingly at me. “Life’s a journey, not a destination.”

I smiled. “I see what you did there. Your proverb game is strong, Mrs. W.”

She laughed, full and throaty. And healthy.

“And so are you, Violet. More than you know.”

I left Nancy’s room, shutting the door behind me, and crashed headlong into River. My nose smarted from meeting the hard planes of his chest. He wore jeans and his letterman jacket over a T-shirt and smelled faintly of motor oil from his dad’s shop.

“Oh, hey,” I said, rubbing my nose. I looked up. And up. The guy was a mountain and as gorgeous as ever, and yet, my heart didn’t so much as flutter to be this close to him.

“Hey,” he said. “Do you have a minute? I want to talk to you.”

“River, I told you. We’re cool.”

“I know. But I…” He rubbed the back of his neck and then pulled me away from his mom’s room. “I want you to give me a second chance.”

“We’ve been over this. I don’t think—”

“I like you, Violet.”

I blinked. “You do?”

“Well…yeah. I think we make a good pair.”

I scrunched my nose. “We do? We hardly speak to each other.”

He huffed in frustration. “Look, I’ve been crazy-busy all winter and haven’t had time to catch my breath. My dad put all kinds of pressure on me to play well and get into an NCAA Top Ten school. Scouts were crawling all over the field every practice and watching every game. It’s been insane.”

“I get that, but—”