Ruin Me Softly (We Found Love Book 2)

MM Candace Lark
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used
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 One
Shawn
I’ve been away from Charleston so long, I’ve almost forgotten the way that everything in the city smells like the ocean.
Eight years have gone by since I ran from the last foster home I was put in here. The best one I was ever in. Adults who

actually gave a shit, the sweetest girl I ever knew who welcomed me as a brother with open arms.
And then there was Lucas.
Lucas Miller was the first guy I ever kissed. The first person to ever stand up for me. The guy I left when his sister got
sick.
I’d been a foster kid with the Millers for about six months when Natalie was diagnosed with Leukemia. I heard their
parents arguing one night about who was going to keep an eye on me, that I shouldn’t be at the hospital because I wasn’t
technically family.
I’d packed my meager belongings and left that night. It wasn’t that I was angry with them; they were right. And they
were always kind to me. But they didn’t need to be dealing with a hell-on-wheels kid like me when they needed to be with
their daughter.

According to their social media, Natalie fought for a year before it took her at eighteen.
I’d wanted to go to her funeral, but I didn’t want to make the situation any worse for the Millers. I can’t imagine what
they had to go through.
“You ready, Shawn?” Mark’s voice startles me out of the past, and I glance up to find him and his fiancée in front of the
pineapple fountain in the city square.
“Yeah, sorry.” I offer them a smile. “You guys just be natural, all right?”
The evening light is perfect for the photos, and watching their happiness shine through the pictures I take is one of the
reasons why I love my job so much. Freelance photography was hard at first, but once I started getting my name out—

especially on social media—it got easier. Now I have work booked out for the rest of the year and well into the next.
Mark and Shanna have been two of my favorites. They wanted pictures for the entire week leading up to their wedding
in places that were special to them as a couple. It’d be a little sickening if they weren’t so perfect for each other.
We started yesterday at the College of Charleston, where they met, and they even requested we take the photos as close
to the time of the moment as we could get. So yesterday’s was early in the morning for orientation, and today’s is the evening
for their first date.
I don’t pose them; they should just be natural with each other. Some people are camera shy, and I’m more involved in
the process to get them out of their shell. But with Mark and Shanna, it’s as if they’re in their own little world. I might as well
not even be holding a camera for all the attention they pay me.
I like it that way. To be good at my job, I have to make sure the person in front of the camera is comfortable. I can do
that, but it’s not my favorite thing. I prefer to just be silent and observe. It worked for me when I was being bounced around in

foster homes. Kept me safe. And while my clients aren’t going to fly off the handle and beat the shit out of me for breathing, the
memories are still there.

The scars are still there.

I blink and refocus on the couple in front of me, catching the way the golden light from the sun plays in Shanna’s red

hair as they walk down the pier to the water. They’re talking quietly to each other, holding the other’s hand. They’re so at
peace. So content in each other’s orbit.
It makes me a little jealous. The only person I ever let myself get that close to was Lucas. He knew things I never told
anyone else. Things I probably shouldn’t have even told him. Growing up in the foster system, I learned not to trust anyone. But
Lucas somehow pushed his way into my world. And it was the best thing I ever let happen.
I blink and refocus, taking the final shot. “Got it. Come here and see. You guys look gorgeous.”
Mark and Shanna beam as they meet me near one of the wooden benches on the pier, tuck out of the way of the other
people walking. Slowly, I go through the set of pictures I took, explaining what I’ll highlight to make them really stand out.
Shanna has a great eye for which ones are the best, and I agree with every one of her choices. Mark doesn’t have quite the same
talent, so I’m thankful he steps back and lets Shanna decide on most of them.
When I’m done, twilight is setting in. As I’m getting ready to leave, Shanna gives me a sudden hug.
“Thank you so much,” she says. “You’re amazing.”

I try not to let my body stiffen up too much when she throws her arms around me. I really don’t like being hugged—a
side effect of being in the foster system—but I don’t want to upset her.
She kisses my cheek before pulling away. “I’m so glad you’re here to help us.”
“Of course.” I give her a smile, shake Mark’s hand, and then escape to my car. She’s an eight-year-old Honda SUV that
probably needs to be traded in based on mileage alone, but this car was the first thing I ever owned. I’ve never been attached
to anything materialistic because of the way I grew up, but this SUV has been through a lot with me.
I stow my equipment carefully in the back, then get in the front seat and start the engine up. It whines a little. I should get
it looked at before I get back on the road. The constant travel is one of my favorite parts of my job, but it’s a lot of upkeep for
the car.
Still, I have one more thing to do before I give her a rest for the night.
Traffic eases the further I get from the pier and onto the interstate. From there, I drive about twenty minutes until I pull
off into a cemetery. Just because I wasn’t able to go to Natalie’s funeral doesn’t mean I don’t know where she was buried. I
saw the information on Lucas’s social media page. Back when I was torturing myself and checking up on his life through that.
I haven’t looked him up in a few years.
By the time I park in the lot, the sun has fully set. I grab the flowers from the passenger seat I bought on the way to the
pier and get out of the car. It’s quiet out here except for the sound of some crickets and the buzz of traffic in the distance.

It takes me a bit to find her headstone. The cemetery is huge, and I have a bit of trouble reading in the dark. But finally, I
find her—Natalie Anne Miller, Beloved daughter and sister.

My throat tightens as I stare down at the polished rock. I’ve never regretted running from any foster home until I ran
away from the Millers. All I wanted to do was go back, but I knew what I heard that night. They didn’t need me around when

their focus should be on Natalie.

“Sorry I wasn’t here,” I mumble, kneeling on the wet ground so I can place the daisies against the headstone. They were
her favorites. For her seventeenth birthday, I’d given her a vase full of them because I was dead poor. She’d smiled so brightly.
It was the first time I actually hugged someone back when they reached for me.
I stay with Natalie for a while. I don’t talk, just sit and listen to the sounds around me. It’s the first time I’ve been in a
cemetery, but it’s not creepy like I thought it’d be. It’s just sad.
Something snaps behind me, and I turn to look over my shoulder. My heart nearly drops out of my chest when I get a
look at the person approaching.
It’s Lucas Miller.
 Two
Lucas
The blood in my veins comes to a standstill when I get a look at the guy sitting at Natalie’s grave. Someone I never
thought I’d lay eyes on again. Shawn Brooks. The first guy I ever fell in love with. He’d blown into my life like a windstorm

and then left just the same.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand, stopping a few feet away from him. My anger wants to carry me closer,
grab him by the collar and force him to tell me what the fuck he was thinking.
“I’m sorry.” Shawn stands quickly. Despite the fact that he’s grown into a man and is no longer the gangly sixteen-year-
old he used to be, the wariness in his eyes is still the same. I don’t miss the way he glances around the cemetery, checking for
exits in case I decide to do something.
I take a breath because no matter how pissed at him I may be, I don’t want to hurt him. Not ever. Too many people did
that already, and I won’t be one of them. “I asked what you’re doing here.”
“I’m working a job,” he mumbles. “I freelance.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your job. What are you doing here in the cemetery? At my sister’s grave?”

“I just wanted…” He trails off, and then his eyes turn dark and cold. Like they were when he first came to live with us.
“I have just as much right to come here as anyone.”
“You left her,” I snap. “She wanted you around, and you just left. Too caught up in your own selfishness to even
consider that she might need you.”
“I wasn’t caught up in anything.”
“Bullshit. You knew the doctor didn’t think she had a high chance of surviving, and you cut and ran before you had to
see too much. Because that’s just what you do.”
“Go fuck yourself,” he snarls. “You don’t know anything about that night.”

“I know you left. You didn’t even have the decency to tell anyone goodbye. Didn’t even have the decency to tell me
goodbye.” I hate myself as I say it because it’s too much. I’m upset he left Natalie, but the betrayal was that he left me. After
everything we’d shared together, he left like it was nothing. And that’s what really stings.
“I had to,” Shawn says, his voice softening. “I didn’t want to, but it was for the best.”
I shake my head. “Maybe the best for you. But don’t try to act like it was the best for me or Natalie.”
His lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t try to argue any further. I wish he would. Because the truth is, I know
Shawn wouldn’t have left just because things were getting bad. He survived more than anyone I’ve ever known; Natalie getting
sick really wouldn’t have scared him off.
I don’t know what else would’ve made him run though.
“I’ll go,” Shawn says. “I’m sorry.”
 He starts to move past me, and I grab his arm. My grip isn’t tight, but he still flinches anyway.

“You’re going to just run off again?”

“What do you want me to do?” His voice is tired. Exhausted even. Where has he been all this time?

“I want you to at least tell me what happened. If you think it was for the best, you should tell me why you thought that. If
you’re actually sorry, you’d do that.”

He swallows and looks away from me, staring at the parking lot, empty except for our cars. “No.”
“Shawn, I’m serious.”
“So am I. I don’t owe you anything. Now let go of me. I’m leaving.”
I release him because I’m not a total asshole, but I also turn and follow him out of the cemetery. He doesn’t look back
once as he makes his way to his car, but he has to know I’m following him.
When he reaches the beat-up SUV, he jerks the driver’s side door open and gets in the car.
“You’re really doing this?” I ask. “How many times have you been here in all the years?”
“Tonight was the first,” he replies. “And the last. I’m out of town next week, so don’t worry.”
He closes his door and sticks the key in the ignition. But instead of roaring to life, the engine simply sputters repeatedly.
I stand at the side of his car and watch him through his window as he turns the key harder, like that’s going to help
anything. I almost feel bad for him until I remember how Natalie cried when she learned he’d disappeared. Then I just get
pissed all over again.

He finally stops trying to force the car to work and jerks the key from the ignition. Still in the car, he pulls his phone
out, and I watch him stare at his lit-up screen, searching for a mechanic or towing company he can call for help.
But I already know he’s not going to find one. Not at this hour.
The door opens, and Shawn steps out of the car. Without a word, he opens the back door and grabs an expensive-
looking camera case, then locks the car. He slides the strap of the case over his shoulder and turns for the gravel road that leads
into the parking lot of the cemetery.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“Walking. My hotel’s about ten miles from here.”
“Let me give you a ride.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I don’t want to be around him, but my
heart just doesn’t want to listen to reason. Despite everything, I still want him. And that irritates the fuck out of me.
“I’m fine,” Shawn replies.
“Come on, just get in the car.”
Thunder rumbles overhead, and Shawn pauses to glance up at the dark sky. The lightning is too close. There’s no way
he’ll reach his hotel before the clouds open and pour the rain out.
Still, he doesn’t make a move toward my car. Because if there’s anything that Shawn’s good at other than leaving is
surviving. He doesn’t need me or anyone else taking care of him.

So I use the only thing I know he’ll respond to.

“You owe me, Shawn.”

He turns to scowl at me over his shoulder. When he first came to live with us, some guys at school were messing with
him, and I made them stop. Later, I’d joked about how he owed me. He’d turned so serious instantly. Wanted to know what I

expected in return. He was prepared to give me anything I wanted if it cleared the supposed debt.
It was the first time I got a glimpse at how bad life must’ve been for him before that.
“Fine,” he says, his voice clipped. “You can give me a ride to my hotel.”
I unlock my car and get inside as thunder rumbles again. When he gets in beside me, he puts his camera case carefully at
his feet before tugging his seatbelt on.
Then he doesn’t say a word the entire drive to his hotel. It’s not a long ride, but we seem to hit every red light along the
way.
When I finally steer the car into the lot of the hotel he pointed to, I’m relieved to see it’s not a bad place. For some
reason, I was picturing one of those pay-by-the-hour things.
He takes a breath as he reaches down for the camera case. “Are you coming in?”
I lift my eyebrows, surprised and more than a little irritated at the question. “Are you serious?”
“What? You’re the one who said I owed you something. You drove me to the hotel. I thought that’s what you were

aiming for.” Annoyance slips into his tone before he can hide it. I can’t tell if he’s doing this because it’s what he really expects
or he’s just trying to get a rise out of me.
I don’t know much about his life before he came to live with us for those six months. I know he was beaten. He came to
us with bruises and stitches, but I don’t know anything other than that. He wouldn’t talk about it.
“Well?” he presses when I don’t speak. “Are you coming in or what?”
“Yes.” I say the word before my brain can tell me it’s a bad idea. Because in spite of everything that happened, I’ve
missed him. I’m not ready to say goodbye to him again yet.
His gaze is wary as he opens the door and steps out into the warm night.
I follow him quickly, only pausing long enough to lock my car.
He leads me inside the lobby of the hotel, and we take an elevator up to the third floor. Being this close to him in the
car wasn’t that bad because I had to concentrate on driving. But here in the elevator, it’s all I can do not to reach out and touch
him. Yeah, I’m still mad as all hell at him, but my hormones aren’t interested in getting on the same page as my head.
We step out into a brightly lit hallway, and Shawn wordlessly makes his way to a door near the end of the hall. He
sticks the card into the door, waits for the chirp, and pushes it open. Then he backs up a step and waits for me to enter first. I’d
almost forgotten he did that. He doesn’t enter a room with his back to anyone.
 When he follows me into the room, he locks the deadbolt before setting his camera case gently on the brown desk by the

window. Then he turns to face me. “So what do you want to do?”
“I want to talk. I want an explanation.”

His jaw clenches. “Well, I’m not talking. I have nothing to say.”
It’s so obviously a lie that I want to call him on it. But I’m afraid of making the situation any worse. I’m angry at him,

but I don’t want to hurt him. “Then what do you want?”

The smallest smirk pulls his lips up at the corners. “How about you show me how much you’ve missed me?”
 Three
Shawn
I shouldn’t have said that. It’ll mostly only irritate Lucas further. But the thing is…it’s not a lie. At some point on the
drive here, I realized I wanted him again. I mean, I knew it since the day I left that I would always want him, but seeing him so

close, feeling the heat of his body, I can’t resist.

He can’t either. Heat fills his eyes even as he tries to hide it by narrowing them. “Really, Shawn?”
“You’re the one who asked.”
For a second, I think he’s going to turn and leave. But then he says, “If we’re doing anything, it’s not about me showing
how much I’ve missed you. It’s going to be about how you got me used to having your mouth and tight little ass around and then
took it away without a word.”
Heat pools low in my belly even though I try to fight it. I don’t want to be attracted to him, but I can’t stop it. He was the
one I always wanted. I never thought someone like him could ever go for a guy like me. He had that perfect life, perfect family.
Popular at school. And I was just someone that no one could be bothered to keep.
And it’s those feelings that have me swallowing and saying, “Okay.”

Surprise flickers across his face before he crosses the room to wrap a hand around the back of my neck. His fingers are
warm against my skin. “You sure about that?”
“Yeah.” My voice is hoarse as I try to hide the longing in it.
He doesn’t hesitate to pull me close and press his lips to mine. Hunger unfurls in my chest, and I grab his waist,
pressing myself to him. A hundred memories flash through my mind—summer nights I spent with Lucas, our skin slick with
sweat. Somehow, this moment is even better than I remember it.
Lucas is so sure now. So confident. His hand that’s not on the back of my neck slides down to grab my cock through my
jeans, and then his mouth opens against mine. His tongue pushes its way inside, playing with mine in time with the strokes he’s

giving my dick.
I moan, but Lucas swallows it, kissing me deeper. His fingers are sure as he works my cock in tandem, and just as I’m
about to come in my pants like a fucking teenager, he stops.
I whimper from the loss of contact, and Lucas smirks as he pulls away from me.
“Get out of those clothes,” he orders. “On the bed.”
Even though I know I shouldn’t, I obey almost instantly. It just feels so good to be with him again. I’ve been with guys
since I left Charleston years ago, but none of them were like Lucas.
He tugs his own clothes off, and I don’t shy away from looking at him. He’s even better than I remember. All muscle
and angles and a cock that’s just begging to have my lips wrapped around it.
Before I can stop myself, my hand drifts toward my own. So hard, it’s almost painful.
 Lucas catches my hand before I can actually touch myself. His grip on my wrist is tight. Punishing.

“No.” Even though he says it softly, there’s enough force behind it for me to relent immediately.
“You left and made me almost insane thinking about you. Do you have any idea how many times I had to jerk off when I

thought of you? And now you have the nerve to touch yourself in front of me like I haven’t been waiting years to be inside you
again? No, it doesn’t work that way.”

He leaves me long enough to grab his belt from the floor, and then he’s knotting it around my wrists, securing them to
the headboard. And I wish it didn’t feel so fucking good when he does these things to me.
“You got any lube?” he asks.
“Bag near the side table,” I mumble.
He stands to grab it, and I can’t help admiring as he bends over. He always had such an amazing ass.
Lucas settles between my legs, nudging them apart with his own. He runs his hands along my knees, up to my thighs,
then finally to my cock, which is hard and already leaking.
“Hmm.” He hums appreciatively. “Somebody missed me.”
He traces my slit with one finger before brushing his knuckles across my balls, drawing a hiss from my throat.
“Shh.” He leans down and presses a kiss to the inside of my thigh. “Be good for me, okay?”
I nod wordlessly. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be able to speak through this. The longing I’ve felt for him that I’ve
kept so bottled up is spilling over. I want nothing other than for Lucas to be inside me again.

He pops the lid off the bottle of lube and spreads it generously over his fingers before sliding two into me.
I can’t stop my back from arching off the bed as heat explodes all over my body. It feels so good to have him touching
me again.
“Hey, none of that.” Lucas uses his other hand to grip my balls just tight enough to hurt a little. “You’re not coming until
I say so.”
A whine slips out of me even as I try to choke it off. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sorry I left you without a goodbye.”
“Are you? Or are you just saying that because you’re tied up and at my mercy?” He pulls his fingers out only to slam
them back in again, ushering a third finger in this time.
“I am.” The words come out through gritted teeth as sweat beads on my skin. That delicious burn is spreading over my
body, and I want Lucas inside of me. “Please, I’m sorry. I swear I am.”
“Am I supposed to trust you?” He pulls his fingers out only to thrust them back in again, and I’m starting to think that not
even his grip on my balls is going to stop me from coming.
My heels dig into the mattress as my body pushes upward, seeking friction.
“Have you done anything to deserve my trust?” he presses. “Because I don’t think you have.”
“I haven’t,” I whimper. “But I need you.”
 Just as suddenly as they entered, Lucas’s fingers disappear, and I cry out at the loss, the feeling of emptiness.

“I can’t be slow or gentle,” he says, crinkling a condom wrapper as he opens it.

“I’m not asking you to be.”

It’s all the go ahead he needs. Lucas grips my hips tight enough to bruise and shoves into me.
“Fuck!” I can’t help yelling as his cock spreads me. He gives me just a second to adjust, then he’s pushing the rest of the

way in, fighting against the resistance my muscles are putting up.
“Come on,” Lucas breathes. “I know you can take me, Shawn.”
I arch my back and spread my legs a little more. I can take it; I have before. Just with quite a bit more stretching.
He starts to pull out, so I clench, keeping him inside me. “You promised you wouldn’t be gentle.”
A growl rumbles low in his throat, and he pushes back in so quickly that I would’ve scooted across the bed had he not
been gripping my hips.
“That’s it,” I moan. “Fuck me for all the times you wanted it and I wasn’t here to give it to you.”
It’s the magic command. His fingers sink into my skin, and he sets up a punishing pace that’s almost painful. Fuck that, it
is painful. But it feels so fucking good. It feels right. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed him.
“God, you feel good,” Lucas says before lowering his head to kiss the side of my neck. “You’re still so fucking tight.”
I try to reply, to say something back, tell him how good he feels too. But no words touch my tongue. I’m too lost in the
feel of him. I’d never forgotten how amazing it felt when we were together, but I tried my hardest not to think about it over the

years. Missing him was like a constant physical ache. If I was going to survive, I needed to forget about Lucas.
But now here he is, giving me exactly what I need, just like he used to do. It’s like no time has passed at all. As if I
could close my eyes and when I opened them again, we’d be back in Lucas’s bedroom, our skin sticky from the summer heat.
That same hunger burns between us, but now it’s mixed with the longing that only comes from pent-up frustration. Every
time Lucas slams into me, I lift my hips, meeting his thrusts. I want to feel every inch of him. Remember what it was like to feel
completely safe.
When that familiar heat pools in my belly, I try to hold it back. I don’t want this moment to end. I want to stay here,
wrapped up with Lucas, forever.
But nothing lasts forever.
Lucas comes with a moan, his hips stuttering as he empties into me. I dig my fingers into his back, urging him closer. He
only allows it enough for him to still get a hand between us, which he wraps around my weeping cock.
I bite back a whimper at the pressure, but I can’t stop my body from bucking up, sliding myself deeper against his palm.
He has no right to feel this good, to make me feel this good. And I know I should stop this because it can’t possibly amount to
anything, and I’m not sure I could survive losing Lucas again.
But then he leans closer, slanting his mouth over mine in a searing kiss that I feel all the way into my soul. And as I
shatter against him, I realize it doesn’t matter how many miles I put between us; I’ll never be able to outrun what I feel for

Lucas.
 Four
Lucas
When I wake up the next morning, it takes me a second to remember where I am. The bed is comfier than mine, and the
drapes are pulled completely closed.

I turn my head to see Shawn still asleep beside me. He’s on his stomach, snoring softly. Despite the dim lighting, I can
still make out the scars lining the skin of his back. They’re deep grooves, crisscrossing from one side to the other. I’d asked
him about them one time, and he’d told me his birth father had whipped him back when Shawn was still living with him.
I was sixteen the first time I saw them. I couldn’t believe someone would do that to any kid, let alone their own. He’d
been so blunt about it, his voice devoid of emotion like it was no big deal. But I saw the pain in his eyes. It was the first time
he ever let me hug him.
Fuck, what have I done? I shouldn’t let myself get involved with Shawn. Not again. It feels like a betrayal to Natalie
because how upset she was when she realized he had disappeared is forever burned in my memory. But it’s also because I
promised myself if I ever saw him again, I wouldn’t let him affect me the same way.
I wasn’t supposed to let him back in.

As quietly as I can, I slide out of the bed, grab my clothes from the floor, and hurry out the door. I pass a cleaning cart on
my way to the elevator, and people bustle around, checking out. Once I’m in the elevator, I pull my phone from my pocket to
check the time. Just after seven.
I have just enough time to get home and shower before my shift. Working at a landscaping company in the south means
getting to work early so we don’t all collectively die of heatstroke.
Still, I love my job. I’d started college to go into med school, but I’d underestimated how hard it would be to go back to
a hospital setting. In our first year, they took us on a tour of the local hospital, and I quit that day. I walked out of the tour and
never looked back.

I think Natalie would understand. At least, I hope she would.

Even though I know logically it’s not healthy, sometimes I feel like I’m trying to live for her too. Her life was cut so
short, and I’m still here. Landscaping was a good option because Natalie loved nature, and I could see her working something
like this too. Maybe I’ll go back to school at some point, but not right now.
When I get home, I take a quick shower and throw a new set of clothes on before getting back in the car. On the way to
work, I call a towing company to take care of Shawn’s car. One of the guys I knew in high school owns the place, and I know
Killian will make sure his car’s in working order quickly. I tell him where Shawn’s staying, so he can get in touch with him
about the car, but I give my credit card number for the charge.
I feel a little bad about the way last night went. When he stayed with us back then, he was full of secrets, but I knew he
loved Natalie just as much as I did. He would never leave just because he was scared or didn’t want to be around someone
who had cancer, like I accused him of last night.
No, it was something else. Something that could potentially hurt me or someone else. It’s the one thing that would make
him stay silent. Because Shawn is more loyal than anyone I’ve ever met.

When I get to the navy base, I meet up with Benny in the parking lot. He whistles when he sees me.
“Right on time, man. What’s up? You never cut it this close.”

“Slept in.” I could tell him about Shawn, but that would involve telling him about all the other stuff. After Shawn left, I
did my best to forget about him, meaning I never talked about him. Not to anyone. Killian remembers because we were good
friends when Shawn lived with us, but these guys I met through work? They have no clue. Most of them don’t even know about
Natalie.
“Too early in the morning for you to be lying.” Benny wags a weathered finger at me. He’s been a landscaper for thirty
years, and it shows in his permanently tanned skin and the sunspots he carries on his face and arms. He’s the oldest one of us,
and the only one I could really see myself telling about Natalie or Shawn.
Still, all I do is shrug. “It was nothing exciting. Just stayed up too late watching a movie.”
“Which one?”
“Die Hard.” It’s the first one that comes to my head, and it’s Benny’s favorite, so I know it’ll get him off the subject of
me.
His face brightens and he launches into an impressive Bruce Willis impression that makes me grin. He keeps it up while

we outfit ourselves for the day’s work. We take care of the insecticides on the base every few months, so it’s just a few of us
here today. It’s hot work, but the pay is good, so I’m not going to complain.
Our boss—Gavin—is really great and doesn’t care about when we break or come in as long as the work gets done by the
promised time. So while Benny entertains the other two workers—Carl and Vicki—with a recap of the plot of the fourth Die
Hard movie, I put some earbuds in and get to work.
The sun beats down on the back of my neck as it rises higher in the sky, but I don’t bother with sunblock. We’ll be done
by lunchtime with the four of us working.
It’s not even noon by the time we finish, but it’s already pretty hot. The four of us gather in the parking lot and drink some
bottled water.
“What’re we doing about lunch?” Carl—the youngest of us—asks. “Because we all know whose turn it is.”
Benny cuts him a look. “I’m sure the Wendy’s up the road is offering one of those five-dollar deals.”
The rest of us groan.
“Not there again,” Vicki says, adjusting her hair in its bun. “I can’t look at anymore of their food. Take us somewhere
nice.”
“We don’t look good enough to go somewhere nice,” Benny replies. “Fast food or bust.”
 “It’s not the 1800s anymore,” Carl says. “We don’t have to dress up to go somewhere that’s not fast food.”

Before Benny can reply, a car with rental plates pulls into the parking lot, almost clipping my Jeep. The engine cuts out,
and then Shawn steps out of the car, his face marred with a scowl.

“Oh.” Vicki’s eyebrows lift.

“Can we help you?” Benny asks, wiping his hands on his khaki shorts.

“I need to talk to Lucas,” Shawn replies, his voice just barely cordial. Anger burns beneath the words.
Benny looks at me, like he’s waiting to make sure I’m okay if they leave.
I give him a nod.
“All right, well, if you decide to join us, you know where we’ll be,” Benny says, and he heads to his car with the other
two.
“What?” I ask Shawn as soon as the others are out of earshot.
“I can pay for my own car service,” he says. “I don’t need your charity.”
“It’s not charity.”
“Well, I don’t want fuck money either.”
“Get the fuck over yourself. That’s not what it was. I felt bad about snapping at you, okay?” It’s uncomfortable to admit
because a big part of me is still angry at him, but I don’t want him thinking I paid for his car just because we slept together.
His scowl stays, but his voice loses some of its edge. “You shouldn’t have felt bad. It was fine.”

“Well, what’s Killian say about the car?”

“Needs a battery,” he says grudgingly. “It’ll be ready tomorrow. He got me in touch with the rental place.”
When I stay silent, he clears his throat and admits quietly, “I didn’t like not knowing what happened to my car. I know it’s
a piece of crap, but it’s mine. It was the first thing I ever bought, and sometimes, it was what I lived in. So I don’t like not
knowing where it is.”
“Oh.” Internally, I cringe a little. That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. Growing up, I never had to worry about
where I’d sleep at night, or if I’d be in a safe place. So to me, a car is a car is a car. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about that.”
His smile is a little bitter. “Yeah, I figured. But…I appreciate you helping me with it. Killian was nice. He told me you
were here.”
“I’ll thank him for that later.”
His grin turns a little more genuine, but the wariness still lingers in his eyes. “Well…thanks.”
He starts to turn and walk away, so I call his name.
“You want to go get some lunch?” I ask.
“Really?” He frowns. “You want to have lunch with me?”
I shrug. “Sure. Why not?”
 He glances back at the rental car and runs his index finger along his upper lip. I’d forgotten he did that when he’s

thinking. “Okay. But I don’t have long. I’m photographing a couple at three this afternoon.”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” I give him the address to meet me at, then get back in my car. A part of me wonders if he’ll really

meet me at the diner. He’d looked a little uncertain, but maybe that’s just leftover stuff from him leaving in the past. I’ve grown
a lot since the last time I saw Shawn, and I’m guessing he has too. I need to give him the benefit of the doubt.
 Five
Shawn
I’m seriously considering not going to the address of the diner that Lucas gave me. I’m still irritated that he towed my car
without telling me, but I also feel kind of strange about what happened last night. It was fucking amazing, but maybe it was a

mistake.
All those feelings I used to have when I lived with them just came rushing back. Lucas’s house was the first place I ever
truly felt safe. His parents—Richard and Katharine—were nice, but it was Natalie and Lucas who I connected with. They took
me right into their circle of friends without hesitation.
On one of my first nights there, I had a nightmare, the kind that’s a memory that won’t leave. Lucas had been staying with
a friend, and it was Natalie I woke with my scream. She’d come to my room and gotten in the bed with me. I didn’t speak a
word at the time. I couldn’t. But she stayed with me until I fell back asleep. She never brought it up either.
I blink wetness from my eyes and focus on the road. Natalie didn’t deserve to die. If I could, I would’ve taken it from
her. She had a whole family that loved her. I had nothing. Fate should’ve latched onto me instead.
When the diner comes into view, I take a deep breath before steering the car into a parking space. Lucas’s truck is

already parked in a spot closer to the back. The cab is empty.

My fingers tighten on the steering wheel. I could just leave. I’m sure Lucas is inside thinking I might not even show up.
It’s so much easier to just leave before you get attached to anyone. I let myself love Lucas and Natalie, and I lost them both.
I might’ve acted like last night was nothing but an itch to scratch, but I feel the truth burrowing deep inside me. If I let
Lucas back into my life, I’m going to fall in love with him again.
***
Despite my logical side trying to fight me, I go inside the diner to meet up with Lucas. No matter what happens between
us, it won’t matter. Because I already have jobs lined up after Charleston, and I’m not just going to blow those off to stay with

Lucas. I left him once before and it didn’t kill me. I can do it again.
He glances up when I walk in the door, and I don’t miss the flash of disbelief in his eyes that he tries to hide. Last night,
he made it seem like missing me was all about the physical aspects of the relationship we once had, but there’s a vulnerability
on his face right now that says otherwise.
When I reach the table, I take the booth across from him and rest my arms on the cold Formica.
Lucas’s gaze drops to my hands, and his eyes darken. “Shawn…you should’ve told me the belt was too tight.”
“Huh?” For a second, I don’t know what he’s talking about, but I follow his gaze to my hands, where purple bruises
encircle both my wrists. “Oh. Don’t worry about those. I didn’t even really notice them.”
That only makes his eyes darken further. “You know it’s not healthy to be in pain and not even notice it.”
“I’m not in pain.” I press on the bruise on my left arm to prove it and then wish I hadn’t because it actually does sting a
little. But I hide it and glance back up at him. “Relax, Lucas. I’m a grown-up, okay? I can take care of myself.”
“But—”
“And I liked it,” I interrupt. “So just leave it alone.”

The smallest glint of pride shines in his eyes, pushing away some of the darkness. “Okay. Fine. But next time, I’m tying
the knot a little looser.”

Despite how much I try to stop it, heat pools in my belly. “Next time?”
He shrugs. “If you’re lucky.”
“Kiss my ass.” I grab a menu and open it, even though the words don’t make a lot of sense right now. I can feel Lucas
watching me, and that does nothing to douse the fire spreading throughout my body.
When the waitress comes, I just order a burger and fries, and Lucas orders the same without taking his eyes off me. It’s
different from how he was when I first came to live with them. I know I should’ve expected it, but it’s strange.
When we first started messing around when we were teens, Lucas was completely new at it. All he’d ever done was kiss
a couple of his classmates. I’d already fucked a few guys. Some because I wanted to, and some because I was on the street and
needed some cash. Lucas had been skittish. Blushed every time I touched him. Last night, he took control of my body in a way
that no one ever had before.
I’m dying to do it again.
We’re quiet until our food arrives, but once the waitress leaves again, Lucas asks, “How long are you in Charleston for?”

“Until the end of the week. Then I’ve got a job up in Charlotte.”
He nods as he shakes salt over his fries. “I’m glad you’re doing something you love.”
“What about you? You like landscaping?”
“Yeah. I like being out in nature. Reminds me of Natalie.”
My appetite disappears at the mention of her name. She had loved being outside. She used to take me out to this nature
preserve in the next city over, and we’d spend the day there. I’d been so angry when I moved in with them, in pain from the last
horrible place I’d been in. Natalie had taken me out to the preserve and spent hours with me there, letting the beauty slowly
push out some of the darkness eating at me.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for her.” The words slip out of me before I can stop them. But I mean the apology. Why I left
doesn’t matter; it’s that I left without so much as a goodbye. I didn’t even give them the chance to tell me goodbye either. I
guess at the time, I told myself they didn’t care much anyway.
“Yeah…” Lucas clears his throat and meets my gaze. “What happened, Shawn? I know I threw some anger last night and
said you were scared to stay because of Natalie, but I was just pissed. I know you wouldn’t have run away because of that.”
I glance away from him, staring down at my half-eaten food. I can’t tell him the truth. How am I supposed to tell him that
I heard his parents talking about regretting taking me in? Would he even believe me? Lucas was always so close with his mom
and dad. I imagine they’ve only gotten closer through the trauma of losing Natalie.

“Shawn?” Lucas presses when I stay silent.

“It was a lot of things,” I finally say because it’s not technically a lie.

“Like…?”
I fall silent again. The truth is, if I’d never heard his parents talking, I wouldn’t have left. It was the best place I’d ever

lived in. No one beat me; I didn’t have to barricade the door at night while I slept because someone had wandering hands. I
didn’t have to pay rent or make money. Their only rule was to go to school and not get in legal trouble.
Lucas sighs and runs a hand through his brown hair. Then he pushes his plate to the side and leans forward. “Was it me?
Was it something we did together?”
The fact that he’s worried about that saddens and touches me at the same time. I never really talked about the homes I’d
been in before coming to theirs, but it wasn’t hard to guess the things that had happened. I had the scars to prove it. Lucas had
always been gentle and patient.
“No,” I say. “Don’t ever think that.”
Relief fills his eyes, and guilt twists my stomach. How long has he thought he did something to make me leave? Was it
this whole time?
“Then what happened?” Lucas asks.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”

His jaw clenches, but he lifts his hands in surrender. “Fine.”

“I’m sorry.” I don’t mean to say it because it’s like admitting that I’m in the wrong even though I know I did what was
best. But I hurt him, and that’s what I’m really sorry for.
He’s quiet for a second before sliding his plate back in front of him and digging back into his food.
I can only pick at mine now. Which is terrible because the food is really good. But my stomach is in a knot. Lucas is
angry with me. He’s trying to act like it’s not a big deal that I won’t talk, but I see it in the set of his shoulders. The grim line of
his mouth.
I should never have come to lunch with him.
“I should go,” I say, reaching for my wallet. “I have to drive out to the botanical gardens.”
Lucas glances up to look at me, and I do my best to keep my expression neutral. It’s a trick I learned a long time ago.
Never let someone see you upset. It’s just ammunition for them to use against you later.
Even though I know logically Lucas wouldn’t do that, my heart’s not getting on board. Because the part of me still stuck
in old foster homes and my birth home remembers what a bad idea it is to be vulnerable around someone. Even if that person
only ever showed me kindness.
“Don’t worry about the meal,” Lucas says. “I got it.”
 I pull a twenty out anyway. I’ve been paying for my own stuff for a long time, and just like with the car, I don’t like the

idea of owing Lucas anything.

His gaze flicks from the bill I place on the table up to my eyes. Then a sad smile pulls at his lips. “Well, I guess this is

goodbye then.”
I swallow and give him a nod, then turn and start for the door. But before I make it too far from the table, I can’t stop

myself from turning back to find him watching me still.

 Six
Lucas
My mind’s still on Shawn when I get to my parents’ house for dinner the next night. I haven’t heard from him since we
had lunch at the diner, and I hate that I’m wishing he would get in touch with me. I left my number with him, but he never gave

me his.
I wish I didn’t miss him so much. I wish he’d just tell me why he really left.
With a sigh, I get out of the car and climb the familiar porch steps to my parents’ house. They talked about moving out
after Natalie died, but they never did. I think it was too hard for them to entertain the idea of living somewhere Natalie had
never been.
It nearly killed me to move out after college. I had been terrified I would forget everything about my sister if I no longer
lived in the room across the hall from hers.
The door opens before I’ve had the chance to ring the bell, and Mom envelops me in a hug. “Lucas, it’s so good to see
you.”
She says it every time, as if I’ve been away for weeks. As if we don’t have dinner together every few days. But like

every time, I just give her a smile and kiss her cheek and tell her it’s good to see her too.
Dad greets me at the entrance to the kitchen with a glass of scotch in hand. “It’s good to see you, son.”
“It’s good to see you too, Dad.”
Mom comes up behind me and pats my shoulder. “Dinner’s already on the table.”
“Sorry I’m late.” I move with them into the kitchen and pull out my usual chair at the old wooden table. Natalie’s
initials are carved into the wood where she used to sit—something she did when we were children and arguing over who got
to sit where. Even though I couldn’t have stopped her getting sick or dying, sometimes I catch myself wondering if I had given
her more, maybe she wouldn’t have gotten sick in the first place.

“Lucas?” Mom calls my name, and from the tone of her voice, it doesn’t sound like it was the first time she tried to get
my attention.
“Yeah?” I look up from my plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I don’t even remember serving myself this food.
Sometimes that happens when I’m thinking about Natalie.
“You look different. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I just… I saw someone this week I hadn’t seen in a long time. Shawn Whittiker.”
Dad frowns. “That foster kid who stayed with us a while?”
Mom’s eyes turn sad. “I always wondered what happened to him. Why he left.”
“You know why he left,” Dad says, his voice cold. “He couldn’t handle what was happening.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” I say, stirring my gravy around without taking a bite. “He seemed genuinely upset when he
realized that’s why I thought he ran away.”
Mom tsks. “I can’t believe you said that to him. As if he hasn’t already been through enough.”
“He’s a man now,” Dad says. “Not a child anymore. He should be able to have an adult conversation.”

I glance up from my plate. “Jeez, Dad. Don’t hold anything back.”

He looks a little contrite, but says, “We opened up our home to him, gave him a good place to stay, and he ran away at

the first sign of trouble.”

“You can’t really blame him. He’s only had himself to look out for all his life. He probably didn’t know what else to
do,” Mom says before turning to me. “You should invite him over for dinner tomorrow.”
“I don’t know…I haven’t seen him since we bumped into each other.” It’s not strictly the truth since he came storming to
the naval base to yell at me about his car, but I don’t want to get into all of that with my parents.
“Well, I’m sure he told you where he’s staying. At least go ask him. It’s not going to kill you.”
“All right, all right.” I lift my hands in a show of surrender. “I’ll ask him and text you about it.”
Dad doesn’t say anything, but I get the feeling he doesn’t want me bring Shawn by. It was never his idea for them to
foster Shawn, but he went along with it pretty quickly. I think like Mom, he felt sorry for Shawn when they met. But when his
leaving hurt Natalie, I think that was all that mattered to Dad.
I want Shawn back in my life so much that it hurts. But I’m scared that maybe there are just too many ghosts between us.
***

After I leave my parents’ house, I head to the cemetery. Although I want to see Shawn again, I’m hoping he won’t be at
Natalie’s grave tonight. I just want to be alone with my sister.
Fortunately, when I get there, the place is pretty much deserted. I feel bad that I didn’t bring any flowers like I usually
do, but I see that someone has already left some. Yellow petunias. Natalie’s favorites.
Shawn was already here. Mom and Dad never come here, so I know neither one of them left her flowers. All her
friends stopped coming long ago; not that I blame them. They have their own lives to get to.
I sit on the warm ground and reach a hand to brush the petunias with my fingers. “Hey. Sorry it’s been a few days. I
know if you were here, you’d tell me to be more like your friends and move on with my life. But this is so much fucking harder
than I thought it would be.”
My throat tightens with a familiar ache, and I release the petunias so I can pull away from the tombstone. “I don’t know
what to do. I feel like I should be angry with Shawn for leaving the way he did, but I also think…you wouldn’t want that either.
You knew how we felt about each other. At least, how I felt about him. I don’t know; maybe he never felt anything.”
The wind blows, tousling my hair. It feels just like when Natalie would do it to me when we were teenagers. I used to
pull away from it because it embarrassed me, even though it was one of her ultimate gestures of affection.
The first time she did it to Shawn, he’d ducked like he thought she might hit him. He tried to laugh it off like it wasn’t a
big deal, but all Natalie and I had to do was look at each other to know what the other was thinking.

I close my eyes, wishing it were her fingers tousling my hair right now. I’d never pull away from her again. I wish I’d
known how limited my time was with her. I would’ve tried harder to be a better brother. Even though it was obvious that she

knew we loved her, it didn’t feel like enough. It still doesn’t.

And the logical part of me realizes it’s why I was so ready to hate Shawn for leaving. If that occupied my mind, I didn’t

have to think about how much it hurt to lose Natalie.

 Seven
Shawn
I meet Mark and Shanna at the beach, where they celebrated their one-year anniversary. As much as I’m enjoying
working with them, I really wish I were anywhere else right now. I want to leave Charleston already. It wasn’t so bad until

yesterday at the diner with Lucas.

I’d called it a goodbye, but it didn’t really feel like that. I already know in my bones that I’m going to see him again. I
was never very good at telling him no. If he wants me to come around again, I will.
And I’ll deal with the consequences later.
When I reach Mark and Shanna, I find them arm-in-arm staring out at the ocean. It’s evening again, the golden sun
making the waves sparkle. I stop several feet from them and take a picture of their backs. They look so good together, so at
peace. I wonder what it’s like to be in that place.
I lower my camera and start toward them. “Mark! Shanna!”
They turn toward me with smiles. Shanna brushes her hair behind her ear, and Mark keeps his arm in hers as they
slowly make their way to me, carefully stepping on the powdery sand.

“The pictures from the botanical gardens turned out great,” I say when they reach me. “I think you guys are going to be
really happy with the final results.”
Shanna beams, but a second later, it turns into a frown. “Are you all right? You seem upset.”
“Do I?” It surprises me that she’d point it out. When I was growing up, I never let any kind of emotion show if I could
help it. It was a matter of survival. Lucas must be really getting to me if Shanna can see it.
“Yeah,” Shanna says, releasing her fiancé to take my hand. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” It’s the automatic answer. The one I’ve always used. But Shanna keeps watching me, and now Mark is too.
So I sigh and say, “I grew up here. Just a lot of memories.”

Shanna hesitates a second before asking, “Is your family still in the area?”
My throat tightens, and I shake my head. “No, I was a foster kid. I don’t have a family.”
“Oh, Shawn.” Shanna squeezes my hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I give her a bracing smile. “We should get started before we lose the sunset.”
She releases my hand reluctantly, and I can see the pinch between her eyebrows that lets me know she’s going to revisit
this. But for now, I get lost in the moment of photographing them, watching the way they move effortlessly with each other. It
makes me smile to see how in love with each other they are. But it also makes my heart hurt a little too. Because I know I’ll
never have that kind of intimacy. The deep trust they have of each other is something I could never see myself having with
anyone else.
For a second, Lucas’s face flashes in my mind. At one point in my life, I thought maybe I could trust him. But then I left,
and we grew up. He’s just a stranger to me now. A stranger I just had incredible sex with, but still a stranger.
My mind keeps wandering even as the sun sets on the horizon, and I take Shanna and Mark up to an outdoor restaurant
on the boardwalk to show them the photos.

“When’d you take this one?” Mark asks, stopping me at the first picture I snapped, when I came up behind them.
“When I first saw you guys.” I flip forward two more. “This is the best one from right then. See the way the sun is

glinting on the water but not glaringly taking up space in the shot?”
Mark nods and then leans back in his chair to study me. “You really didn’t go to school for this?”
“No. I took a photography class in high school because it was that or auto shop, and I already know how to fix a lot on
cars. I got an A without trying that hard and realized I wasn’t too bad at it.”
“Too bad?” Shanna takes a sip of her pineapple juice. “You’re amazing at it. You have no idea how many portfolios we
looked through before deciding on yours.”
My skin warms at her praise, even though I try not to let it. I know how quickly people can take back a compliment or
follow it up with an insult. But I also hate thinking about Shanna like that because she’s the nicest person I’ve ever met. Even
nicer than Natalie.
“I’m gonna use the bathroom before we get out of here,” Mark says, standing from the table. He bends and kisses
Shanna on the top of the head before disappearing around the side of the restaurant.
As soon as Mark is out of earshot, Shanna leans closer to me. “Shawn, listen, I know we don’t really know each other,

but I just wanted to tell you that I get it on some level. I was fostered for about sixteen months when I was in middle school.”
The admission surprises me. Mostly because she seems so much more at peace than I feel. “Really?”
“Yeah. My mom had split when I was a baby, and my dad became an alcoholic. The state took me away while he
served some time for a DUI.”
“Did he stay sober after you went back home?”
“Mostly. I was one of the luckier ones.” She lets a beat of silence pass before asking, “How long were you in for?”
I glance down at the condensation that’s pooled around her glass on the table. “Since I was seven. I left my last foster
home when I was sixteen and been on my own ever since.”
“Why’d you get taken away from your birth family?”
I keep my gaze fastened on the table. It’s not something I’ve ever talked about, even with my social workers. Of course
they knew what had happened; the police took a report, and the doctors told them about the whip marks on my back. The fact
that I weighed half of what I was supposed to for my age range. But I never talked about it, even when they pried.
Sitting here now, I want to tell Shanna about it. I knew other kids in the system, but I never got close to any of them. We
were all just trying to survive. We couldn’t take on anyone else’s shit at the time.
I take a breath and finally look up at Shanna. “The neighbors called the police because my father was beating me so
hard, they could hear it. They took me away, put me with a foster family for a few months while Dad attended some court

ordered anger management classes, and then they put me back with him.”
Shanna stays quiet while I pause, and I almost wish she wouldn’t. I want her to start talking, so I can stop. But she

probably knows that.

I wish Mark would come back to the table, but the longer I stay silent, the more I realize he’s gone this long on purpose.

Just like how Mark and Shanna move around each other almost like they can read the other’s mind, they must do that with other
things. Like conversations. She didn’t need to tell him that she wanted a few minutes alone with me because he could already
tell.
I clear my throat. “It wasn’t long before they came to get me again. And then it was about eight foster homes between
then and when I turned sixteen.”
“Why did you leave at sixteen and not go back to your social workers?”
That’s easier to talk about than what my dad to me. Easier than talking about what happened in some of the really bad
foster homes. “I guess I just got tired of being in places where people didn’t want me. I’d rather be on my own.”
Her eyes soften even more. “Did they tell you that to their face? That they didn’t want you?”
“No. Well, a couple of them did, but most of them, it was in their actions. Most of the time, people are approved to
foster kids, but they don’t know who they’re going to end up with. So maybe they want a baby, and they get an angry thirteen-
year-old instead, and it’s not what they were hoping for. It’s not like they’re horrible or mean about it most of the time; it’s just

that I’m not what they wanted.”

I shrug like it doesn’t bother me, even though it still stings. I know it wasn’t anyone else’s responsibility to take care of
me because my parents should’ve done that, but I just wish they wouldn’t put me with families who wanted something so
different from me.
“I’m really sorry.” Shanna reaches over and takes my hand. “I hate that you had to grow up like that.”
“It’s whatever.”
She smiles sadly. “It’s really not whatever. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it anymore, but I hope you know that
we’d love to keep in contact even after we’re done. I’m always here if you ever do want to share more.”
I squeeze her hand in return, my shoulders feeling a little lighter. It’s nice of her to let me know she’ll be there if I ever
do, I doubt I could ever really talk to anyone about everything that went on with my dad and some of the bad foster homes.
Maybe it’s not healthy, but I feel like all of that should stay buried in the past, where it doesn’t hurt as much.
 Eight
Lucas
When I pick Shawn up for dinner, he’s back in a T-shirt and ripped jeans, and he looks so fucking perfect that I want to
push him back into his hotel room and fuck him senseless. Instead, I clear my throat and ask, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.” He gives me a shy smile before following me out of the hotel. “How was work?”
“Good. Got a bit of a sunburn, but the money makes it worth it.”
“Oh, god, I feel that. Some couple hired me once to do their engagement photos, and they wanted them taken while they
were having sex.”
I pull open the door to my car but pause to look over the roof at him. “Arey you serious?”
“Yeah. Fortunately, I managed to talk them out of it when I told them their parents would see the photos.”
“Wow. You think a photographer would have tamer stories about their job.”
Shawn gets in the car and pulls his seatbelt on. “Most of them are. Some just think that sending nude photos as their
engagement pictures is classy and unique.”
I pull out of the parking lot and onto the freeway. “What about the couple you’re working with now? You like them?”

“Oh, yeah, they’re great. They’re really fun and down to earth.”
“I’m glad you got into a job you really like.”
“Thanks.” His voice goes quiet, and he turns his gaze out the window. “It’s definitely better than some of the other jobs
I worked.”
“Like what?”
He doesn’t respond, and an uncomfortable silence settles in the car. I don’t pressure him to say anything. He’ll either
tell me or he’ll change the subject, and I’ll be fine with either.
Finally, he says softly, “I slept with some people for cash. But I don’t really want to talk about it.”

My throat constricts, and I do my best to keep my focus solely on the road instead of looking at Shawn like I
desperately want to. I’d thought maybe he’d done something like that when he first came to live with us, but hearing him say it
now breaks my heart.
“I’m sorry if that’s weird for you,” he mumbles.
“It’s not.” I reach over and take his hand. “It’s not. I promise.”
“I—” Shawn stops as I park the car at the curb of my parents’ house. Then he turns to face me, his eyes wide. “What are
we doing here?”
“Going to dinner. I told you that.” I try to push as much innocence into my voice as I can, but I’m not sure it works.
“You didn’t say anything about it being dinner with your parents.” Shawn shakes his head. “They probably hate me. If
you were pissed at me, there’s no way they aren’t.”
 “Just relax. Mom’s the one who invited you, okay? She wants to see you again.” I wait because if he really wants to

leave, I’ll take him back.

His jaw clenches and for a minute, he looks just like he did when we were teens and he got angry about something. He

was always so careful with that emotion, as if he was afraid he would fly into a rage one day and be unable to talk himself
down.

Just like back then, he closes his eyes for a second and takes a deep breath. When he speaks, his voice is just a little too
even. “You should have told me we were going to see them.”
“I—”
“I don’t want an excuse,” Shawn interrupts, opening his eyes to look at me. “You knew I wouldn’t agree to this so you
tricked me into it.”
I want to argue with him, but he’s right, so I just keep my mouth shut. The only reason I brought him here is because
Mom wanted me to. I have a hard time saying no to either of my parents after what we survived together. And I’m pretty sure
they feel the same about me.
“They don’t hate you,” I say instead. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where we were going.”
The muscle in his jaw keeps working, but eventually he says, “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”
I get out of the car and round the front of it to walk to the porch with Shawn. His hands are clenched at his sides, and he
glances around a couple times, like he’s thinking about making a break for it. I’m trying to decide if I’d chase him down this

time when the door opens and Mom appears.

Her face breaks out into a huge smile when she lays eyes on who I brought with me. “Shawn! It’s so good to see you.
Come in, come in.”
He steps carefully into the house, like he’s afraid someone’s waiting on the other side of the door to hurt him. As soon
as he’s crossed the threshold, Mom pulls him into a tight hug. His entire body stiffens—something else that used to happen
when he lived with us. I don’t think he ever got used to me or Mom hugging him, but he did with Natalie. Dad never tried.
When Mom pulls away, she rests her hand on his cheek. “We’ve missed you.”
He gives her a tight smile and slides out of her grasp easily. “I missed you too. I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything. Lucas
didn’t warn me that we were coming here until it was too late.”
She waves her hand. “You didn’t need to bring anything. We just wanted to see you again.”
He glances at me over her shoulder, and guilt pinches my chest at the discomfort in his eyes. I should’ve warned him. I
should’ve given him the option to not come if he didn’t want to. What the hell was I thinking?
Dad appears in the entrance to the kitchen, another glass of scotch in his hand. “Shawn.”
Shawn’s shoulders tense immediately, but still he turns to give my father a stiff smile. “Mr. Miller. It’s good to see you
again.”
 “Yes, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Dad takes a sip from his glass as Mom moves around him to take the dish from out of

the oven. “You know, social services had a field day with us, wanting to know where you were, why you’d run away.”
“Dad.” Irritation flares to life in my veins. I hate that he’s bringing that up. I knew Dad was still upset about everything

that had happened, but who the hell says something like that?
“I’m sorry,” Shawn says when Dad doesn’t even look at me. “I didn’t realize they would do that.”

“Would that have stopped you?” Dad presses.

“No.” His voice is cool, indifferent. Like it was when he first came to live with us. “It was time for me to leave.”
“Yeah, it’s no wonder you got a job where you can just disappear whenever you want to.”
I open my mouth to tell Dad to back off, but Shawn speaks before I get the chance to.
“I’m going to see if she needs any help in the kitchen.” Shawn moves around me to leave the room without even looking
in my direction again.
“What the hell was that?” I demand of Dad as soon as Shawn’s gone.
“What? I was asking him questions.”
“You didn’t have to be such an ass about it.” Maybe I’m just sensitive from what Shawn just told me in the car, but the
way Dad’s talking about him is grating me.
“Watch it,” Dad snaps, his hand tightening around his glass. “Shawn is a grown man; he should be able to handle an
honest conversation.”

I fight back my urge to argue. This is about Natalie. Anytime Dad gets this heated, it’s about my sister. We both know
Shawn had nothing to do with her death, but it’s still hovering over us. Between us.
“You know he didn’t do anything wrong by leaving.” I remember the visits after the social workers found out Shawn
had run away, but it wasn’t a field day like Dad said. They actually weren’t surprised at all. Apparently, Shawn had run away
from every other home they’d put him in. He’d lasted the longest in ours.
Dad shakes his head but doesn’t fight me. He drains the last of his scotch and places the glass on the bar. Then he asks,
“What’re you doing with him anyway?”
“I told you. I ran into him.”
“Don’t give me that. You guys are looking at each other the same way you did when he lived here eight years ago.”
I jerk my gaze from the entrance of the kitchen back to my dad to find him watching me. I’d thought Shawn and I had
been careful, to the point where no one else knew about what we were doing late at night.
“What?” Dad asks when I look at him. “You think I didn’t know? You were living here, for God’s sake, Lucas. Of
course I knew.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
At this, he finally softens, his eyes turning gentle. “Because…because he wasn’t a bad kid. You were happy with him.
And I knew you were being safe because you used my credit card at the pharmacy.”

Embarrassment floods my face in a wave of heat. “Oh my god, Dad.”

He laughs a little, even though the sound is sad. “You were the one who did it.” He sobers and moves closer to put an

arm around my shoulders. “You have to understand, when Shawn left, he didn’t just hurt my one child. He hurt both of you. And
that’s what gets to me.”

I guess when he puts it that way, I understand it a little more. I still wish he’d look beyond that and realize that what
happened to Natlie isn’t the reason Shawn left in the first place. But if I can’t figure out the true reason why how am I supposed
to expect my dad to do it?
 Nine
Shawn
I grit my teeth through the whole dinner with the Millers. Not only am I uncomfortable as fuck, but I’m also royally
pissed at Lucas for this. I’d made it pretty obvious that I had no intention of seeing either one of his parents while I was in

town, and Lucas had lured me here anyway.

The irritation sits in my stomach, making it hard to eat. I do my best to choke the food down because I don’t want to upset
Katherine, but I can only get through about half the plate.
The entire time, Lucas sits beside me chattering away like there isn’t a problem. Like his father isn’t pissed that I showed
up here.
It’s definitely one of the most awkward nights of my life.
By the time we finally leave, it feels like as though a whole week has passed. I can’t get out of that house fast enough.
Especially when Katharine hugs me again at the door, squeezing tightly.
When we get in Lucas’s car, I pull my seatbelt on then stare out the windshield. It rained while we were inside, and
water drops dot the glass, making the streetlights twinkle.

Lucas gets in the driver’s seat and shuts the door. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I don’t respond. My teeth are gritted so tightly together that they hurt.
“You’re not even going to speak to me?” Lucas asks when I let the silence linger. “Shawn, look, I’m sorry I didn’t warn
you but—”
“But what?” I cut him off. “But it was more fun this way? More entertaining?”
“You know that’s not what I was doing.”
“What you were doing was being an ass. You said we were going out somewhere, then you brought me here where you
knew your dad still hated me. How do you think it felt to sit across him all night while he was glaring at me?”

Even as the words leave my mouth, I know it’s not what’s really bothering me. I’ve sat through worse dinners, nights
where I was nursing broken ribs or fractured arms. But this seems almost as bad those times. And it takes me a second to
realize that it’s because I trusted Lucas wouldn’t put me in a situation where I would be uncomfortable. At least, not on
purpose.
Lucas starts the car, the engine growling into the quiet night. “It wasn’t that bad. And it’s good for you to get out of your
shell and visit people.”
“Stop fucking acting like you know me. We’ve been apart eight years, Lucas. I’m not the same guy I was when I left.”
Lucas’s jaw works, an obvious tell that he’s fighting the urge to either argue or insult me. He’s silent as he guides the car
from the neighborhood and out onto the freeway. Then he says, “I never thought you were the same guy you were when you left.
I had no ulterior motive for bringing you here. My mother said she wanted to see you. That’s it. Maybe I should’ve told you
where I wanted to take you, and that’s on me, but please stop acting like I strapped you to the electric chair. I took you to a
dinner.”
I lapse back into silence because I don’t want to say something I’ll regret. I know I should look at this from his point of

view. He doesn’t know what I overheard that night I left. He was trying to do something nice for his mom, which I’m guessing
he tries to do frequently since he’s the one cancer left behind. Their only surviving child.

But I can’t stay in his point of view because I keep coming back to being unsure of if Lucas knew the real reason why I
left. He’s acting like he doesn’t, but what if I’m wrong? What if he’s just pretending to not know to save face? Or to get back
into my bed?
Those thoughts plague me the entire drive back to the motel. When Lucas parks in the lot, he doesn’t hesitate to turn the
engine off and get out of the car with me. I don’t really want to talk to him, but I don’t stop him either.
I take the stairs up to my room because I don’t want to lock myself in an elevator with Lucas. I don’t even really want to
be in the room with him right now.
When I push open the door to my hotel room, the first thing I see is my unmade bed, which has me remembering when
Lucas was in there with me. The sheets had still smelled like him this morning.
Lucas follows me into the room and shuts the door behind us. “Are you going to talk to me?”
“I don’t know.” I toss my keycard on the desk and reach out to close the curtain above the heater. “I’m not sure what you
want me to say.”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Look, I-I’m sorry. You’re right. I should’ve given you a heads-up about where
we were going. For the record, I didn’t know my dad was going to act like that.”
I swallow and cross my arms over my chest, leaning back against the side of the desk. “Lucas, you… you know your dad
didn’t really want to take me in, right?”
Something flashes across his face, like he wants to defend his father, but he stops himself and just nods. “Yeah. He
wasn’t excited about having a stranger in the house with me or Nat.”
“He wasn’t mean about it, but it was kind of obvious sometimes. But it didn’t really bother me because he’s a good guy.
Other foster parents who didn’t want me around…well, they weren’t nearly as nice about it.” I shut my eyes as flashes of past
foster homes push their way into my head, but I do my best to shove them back out.
“Shawn—”
“Just let me finish,” I interrupt. When I’m sure I’m going to have some kind of panic attack, I open my eyes to find Lucas
watching me, concern written all over his face. “A few nights after we learned about Natalie’s diagnosis, I heard your parents
talking about me. About how they didn’t know who would keep an eye on me while they were with Natalie, and how I
shouldn’t be in the hospital with you guys because I wasn’t technically family. Your dad wanted to tell me to go, and your mom
wouldn’t let him. They got into an argument about it, and… Lucas, I couldn’t be responsible for bringing them anymore pain.
I’m sorry I left like I did without a goodbye, but I did what needed to be done.”

Lucas is quiet for a long moment, and as I watch the disbelief in his eyes slowly turn to sadness and then anger, I realize
he really didn’t know what had happened that night.

“Are you serious?” he finally asks. “Dad actually said that?”

I shrug. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve been kicked out of plenty of homes.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“Look, Lucas, the bottom line is that you and Natalie were their kids. Why should they have put up with me when you two
needed them?”
“It’s not ‘putting up with you.’ It’s called honoring a promise they made to foster you. You were supposed to stay with us
until you turned eighteen.”
“I never really believed I’d stay that long anyway.”
He takes a step toward me but doesn’t come any closer than that. “I wish you had told me. I could’ve talked to them.”
“No.” The word comes out fiercer than I intended, but I don’t take it back. “No, I wouldn’t have wanted that. I don’t like
to stay where I’m not wanted. I told you that when I first moved in with you guys.”
“But you being there wasn’t making anything worse. It devastated Natalie when you left, and that was their fault. She kept
asking if you were coming back to see her when she was in the hospital.”
I rub my upper arm and look away from him. “I did go see her. Toward the end.”

He stills, and even though I’m no longer facing him, I feel him watching me. “When?”
“About five days before she passed.” I swallow again, my throat so tight that it hurts. “She couldn’t really talk, but she
knew I was there.”
I don’t tell him anymore than that. The rest is between me and Natalie. Most days, I try not to think about the way she’d
looked at me as I sat at her hospital bedside, having snuck in way after visiting hours were over. I’d held her hand and told her
she wasn’t the reason I’d left. I didn’t tell her the truth because I knew what I’d overheard her parents talking about would
upset her.
“A few days before she died, she said she’d seen you, but I thought she was just high on meds,” Lucas says, his voice
hoarse. “I-I wish you’d come by to see me.”
“I couldn’t.” I’d told myself at the time that it was because I didn’t want to see his parents. But the truth is that I didn’t
know if I could walk away from him a second time. The Millers’ house was great, but it was Lucas who made it feel like home
to me. I’d never looked forward to actually going home before. But when I lived with them, I didn’t mind leaving school in the
afternoon. I was glad to be home and around Natalie and Lucas. With them, everything felt a little bit brighter.
Lucas shakes his head then moves closer to me. He doesn’t say a word as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into
a tight hug. I feel his heartbeat against my cheek, and I try desperately not to return his embrace because I don’t want to
remember how good it felt to have him so close to me.

But it only takes seconds for my resolve to break. I lift my arms and hug him back, and it feels like a piece of my heart is
settling back into place. It’s dangerous to let him hold me because then I start thinking about how maybe I really don’t need to

leave again. Maybe I really could call anywhere with Lucas home.
Except…I know better than that. Those endings don’t happen to kids like me. Most of us stay displaced our whole lives,

roaming in search of the place that will keep us. And I could never ask or expect Lucas to be that place for me. No matter how
badly I want it.
 Ten
Lucas
When I pull away from Shawn, I lower my gaze to meet his, unsurprised at the sadness in his eyes. Shawn’s always been
like that. Too much pain for any one person to carry by himself.

I lift my hand and cup his cheek, my body warming at the way my thumb catches along the stubble on Shawn’s face. For
so long, he was stuck in my mind as the same sixteen-year-old he was when he left. Now he’s a man. Still not as tall as me.
Still mostly sharp angles. Still covered in scars.
Fuck, I’ve missed him.
I meet his gaze, making sure he’s okay with it before I lower my head and press my lips to his. He responds immediately,
his fingers digging into my upper arms as he kisses me back. His tongue slides into my mouth, but I don’t let him dominate the
moment. I let him do that when were kids, but it’s mine turn now.
I slide one hand down to his ass and grab a handful of him, making him whimper into my mouth. He allows me to back
him up into the wall, and I keep a firm hold on his ass, pressing hard against it so his crotch pushes into mine.
He breaks our kiss to pull in a breath, and then his lips are on my neck, sucking and licking my skin.

“Do you have any idea how much I’ve thought about this?” I ask, my voice husky. “The other night was barely enough for
me. I want you under me all the time. Every day and night. I want to be so deep inside you that you don’t ever forget what it
feels like.”
“Then do it.” The words shake as they come out of him. His cock is pressing hard into me, and he tries to move his hips
for friction, but I squeeze his ass hard.
“None of that. We’re doing this my way tonight.”
“We did it your way last night,” he replies with a grunt when I pinch his ass.
“And we’re doing it my way again. And again. You’re the one who said to fuck you for all the times I wanted it and you

weren’t there. Well, I wanted it a hell of a lot, Shawn. And I’m not going to be shy about collecting.”
A shiver runs through him, and he pulls back from kissing my neck to meet my gaze. His eyes are wary, letting me know
he’s just the smallest bit nervous. The other night when we were together, everything happened so fast, I don’t think he realized
how much he was submitting to me. But now, he’s about to give it up consciously.
He swallows before giving me one nod.
I relax my hold on his ass and pat it once. “Good boy. Get out of those clothes.”
Shawn obeys immediately, though he still does it with his front to me, unwilling to show me his back. I’ll have to get him
to change that eventually. I want to see every bit of him, scars and all.
“Are you gonna behave this time or do I need to tie you to the bed again?”
He bristles and glances away from me, making me realize I said something wrong.
 “Shawn—”

He blinks and clears his throat before meeting my eyes again. “No, you don’t need to tie me down. I’ll behave.”
His voice doesn’t have the confidence it did just seconds ago. Instead he sounds like…like how he sounded when he

came to live with us. Wondering if we were going to treat him as badly as the last foster home he was in.
“I’m sorry.” I reach a hand out and cup the back of his neck. “I’d never really hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”

A blush steals over his cheeks and he scoffs. “Of course I know that. Now are you gonna fuck me or what?”
Part of me wants to tell him no, but I know he won’t respond well to that. He’s embarrassed by what he sees as a
weakness, even though his flash of fear was an understandable reaction.
So I let him shrug it off like he wants to. I’ll just be more careful with what I say. I’d never want to send his thoughts
back to anything horrific he went through.
“If you want me to fuck you, take my clothes off.”
His mouth picks up in a little smile, and he reaches for the buttons on my dress shirt. But instead of undoing them one by
one, he grips the shirt and jerks it open, popping the buttons off. The little things scatter across the floor, and I jerk back in
surprise.
Shawn laughs a little and tugs the shirt off me. “You look sexy even when you’re startled.”
It’s a little strange to know he thinks of me that way. I knew on some level, but it feels hotter hearing him actually say it.
He pushes my pants down, and I step out of them before kicking them out of the way. Then I grab Shawn and pick him up,

reveling in the way he wraps his legs around my waist instantly. Our cocks press together, and the only reason I don’t reach
down and wrap my hand around them is because I’m holding onto Shawn.
As soon as I reach the bed, I push him down onto it and pull his arms from around my neck. “Lie down.”
Shawn obeys quickly, his skin flushed with excitement. As soon as he’s in position, I grab his knees and push them apart
so I can look at him. Even though we were together the other night, I didn’t really get to stop and admire him. I plan to take my
time tonight.
He blushes and tries to close his legs, so I move closer to the bed, pressing my knees into the end of the mattress where I
stand. “No, no. I want you to keep these open for me all night long.”
He mumbles my name as I lower to my knees on the carpet.
“Just relax,” I say, running my hands slowly up his thighs. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”
I don’t give him time to become any more self-conscious before I lean forward and take him in my mouth. His hips buck
instantly, so I push my hands firmly down on his thighs as I suck him, holding him in place.
He swears and slides his hands into my hair, urging me further down on him. His grip is relaxed enough that I could pull
back if I wanted to, but I don’t. I want to make him feel good. I want him to never forget tonight.
Slowly, I slide a finger into my mouth alongside his cock and wet it before pulling it out to press it to his entrance. His
muscles flutter, but he opens quickly for me. I fingered him last night to stretch him, but I didn’t get nearly enough time to do

that as I wanted. Tonight, I’m a lot slower. Gentler. Gliding my fingers in and out, brushing his prostate only every other time.
I keep my lips wrapped around his dick, licking away the precome every time it gathers at his tip. I work him until he’s

whimpering, his thighs shaking with the urge to help his body thrust upward, but I don’t let him.
I release him and look down at his cock, red and rock-hard. Then I slide my gaze down to his balls, so heavy it looks as

though they could burst. And finally down to where I have three fingers nestled deep into him. Watching the way he’s stretched
so tautly around me nearly has me coming right there.
“Lucas.” Shawn’s voice is breathy. “I need you in me. Please. I don’t think I can hold on any longer.”
I want to wait, to keep driving him to the edge over and over again until I’ve had my fill. But just like he needs me in
him, I need to be inside him. My body is begging me for it.
Slowly, I pull my fingers from him and watch as he clenches over and over, searching for something else to fill him. Then
I roll a condom on and get to my feet.
Shawn stares up at me, his cheeks flushed and his pupils blown wide. His lip is red and a little swollen from biting it.
He looks vulnerable.
When I lean over him, he reaches up immediately and grabs my shoulders, pulling me close to him. His knees tighten on
either side of my body, and he kisses me fiercely.
“Easy,” I mumble against his lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I position my cock at his entrance and push in. It’s a lot easier tonight than it was last time, but there’s still some
resistance. I keep my gaze fastened on his as I press in, watching as the muscle in his jaw tightens and sweat beads on his
forehead before his body relaxes and allows me the rest of the way in.
As soon as I’ve bottomed out, I lean closer to him and press my lips to his. He tastes like coffee and sunshine and the
beach. I never want to stop.
“Lucas.” It’s the only thing he says as he arches up to meet my thrusts. I keep them shallow and slow because I want this
to last as long as possible. I want to stay inside him all night long. I want to just be with him.
“Promise you won’t leave again without saying goodbye?” The words come out of my mouth in a hurried whisper.
Shawn meets my gaze and licks his lower lip. His cheeks are flushed, and his fingers are digging into my upper arms. His
mouth is swollen and red from my kissing him. “I won’t leave without saying goodbye,” he says softly. “I promise.”
I press closer to him, feeling the truth in his words. Maybe it’s wrong to make him promise something like that, but I can’t
help it. I want him so badly that it hurts. It’s the only thing that keeps me from going over the edge tonight and spilling into him.
It’s not until he finally does, his muscles constricting over and over around me, that I find my own release.
This time, I don’t hesitate to pull him close afterward, keeping him nestled against me as I fall into a dreamless
sleep.
 ***

When I wake up the next morning, I slide out of bed and get dressed so I don’t wake Shawn. He looks so peaceful
sleeping, but as soon as I leave his hotel room, my stomach starts twisting.

I spent so long angry with him for abandoning Natalie. Abandoning me. But now it all makes sense.
Of course Shawn wouldn’t stay if he heard my parents talking about him like that. He’d rather get out before they told him

to. And what’s worse is, I know my dad had to have known Shawn could hear him. Mom and Dad always had their “big” talks
in their bedroom closet, where they thought we couldn’t hear them. But ever since Natalie and I were little, we’d crouch in my
closet that was on the other side of theirs whenever they were talking in there.
We heard everything. The pregnancy scare Mom had when we were in middle school. The day Dad got laid off work.
The moment they got the call about Shawn coming to live with us.
It wasn’t until Shawn moved into my room that I told Dad we could hear it all. I didn’t want them to talk about him or
have a fight in there and have Shawn overhear them. I hated giving it up, but he needed to know. I didn’t hear them have another
conversation in there.
So if Shawn overheard them in my bedroom, they had to have been back in the closet, where Dad would know.
It’s all I can think about all day long. It hovers over me while I’m at work, and I’m thankful we’re finished by noon.
Benny tries to get me to go to lunch with him and the others, but I’m not in the headspace for that. I won’t be until I actually talk
to my parents.

So after work, I drive over to my parents’ house, my stomach in knots the whole way. I hate feeling like this. Being with
Natalie during her cancer battle and then trying to come to terms with her death made us all closer than we used to be. We
rarely fight, but now all I can feel is the anger running underneath my skin. I try to tell myself that it’s not their fault because
they should be allowed to have conversations in their own house, but that does little to soothe my rage.
Maybe it’s because I got really close to Shawn while he lived with us. Or maybe it’s because my parents had to have
known on some level that Shawn staying with us wouldn’t make anything worse.
Or it’s the haunted look in his eyes last night when he was talking to me about it all.
I know my parents can’t make him feel anything, but he’d spend half his life being pushed in and out of foster homes, and
we promised we’d be a safe place for him.
When I get to my parents’ house, I park behind my dad’s BMW and get out of the car. The summer sun beats down on the
back of my neck as I make my way up the walkway and knock on the door.
Mom opens it and gives me a wide smile. “Lucas, what are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you and Dad about something.”
She steps back to let me inside, her smile turning down at the corners. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
As soon as I hear the panic in her voice, guilt swoops through me. We all know better than to say we need to talk without
any warning. “Nothing’s wrong. I just need to talk to you guys about when Shawn was living with us.”

“Oh, okay.” Doubt shines in her eyes, but she closes the door and yells down the hall for my dad before turning back to
me. “You want something to drink?”

“No, I can’t stay.” It’s not the truth, but I know I don’t want to stay. I don’t want to be in this house right now. No matter
what Dad says, it won’t matter. I already know the truth.

He appears at the end of the hall, his glasses folded neatly in his hand. “Lucas, what’s up?”
I don’t wait for him to sit in his favorite armchair. “Shawn overheard you guys talking the night he left.”
Mom frowns. “Talking about what?”
“Arguing about who was going to keep an eye on him and how you didn’t want him at the hospital because he wasn’t
technically family.”
Mom gasps, her hand flying to cover her mouth. “He heard that? How did he hear that? We tried to be quiet.”
I turn to look at Dad and search his face for any indication of guilt, but nothing’s there. “Dad knows.”
His eyes narrow just the slightest. “Lucas. Do you really think that’s the only reason that boy left? He’d run away from
every other foster home he’d been in.”
“He was going to stay with us.”
“What? Is that what he told you?”
“He has no reason to lie, Dad. It’s not like telling me changes anything.”

“Is that true?” Mom asks, her gaze fastened on my dad. Sadness has lined her face; her shoulders are slumped.
“It’s not some big, horrible thing,” Dad insists. “We couldn’t keep him at the time, so I made sure he knew without being
cruel about it.”
“Yeah, it was really not cruel to make sure he heard you guys talking about how much you didn’t want him.”
“I wanted him to stay,” Mom protests. “I would never have told him otherwise. I wanted to try to make it work. Richard,
I can’t believe you did that.”
The despair in her voice makes me feel bad because she’s not the one I’m upset with. She had every right to talk to Dad
about Shawn in her own house. My anger is with Dad for using a secret I told him about to hurt Shawn.
“I did what needed to be done,” Dad says. “And I’m sorry if it upset Shawn, but he was sixteen years old and fully
capable of taking care of himself. It wasn’t the right time to be fostering him. Not with everything going on with Natalie.”
“You never wanted to foster,” I snap. “You just used Natalie as an excuse to kick him out of here.”
Anger fills Dad’s face, darker than storm clouds. “Don’t you dare—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” I interrupt, turning for the door. “Don’t call me.”
It feels as though I can’t get out of the house fast enough. Anger pounds through me, heating my blood as I get in my car
and take off.
 I don’t want to go see Shawn because I don’t want him to see how angry I truly am. I know how much rage could scare

him, and I don’t want him to think I’d ever hurt him. So I drive aimlessly around town, too keyed up to even go to the cemetery
and talk to Natalie.

For so long after Shawn left, I thought maybe I’d done something wrong, pushed him away. Dad had told us that Shawn
most likely left because of Natalie’s diagnosis. And that’s the biggest piece I can’t forgive. Because she blamed herself for the

fact that he was out alone in the world again.

How the hell am I supposed to forgive that?
 Eleven
Shawn
When there’s a knock at my hotel room door, I hurry toward it, hoping it’s Lucas. The only other people who know
where I’m staying are Mark and Shanna, and I don’t see them having any kind of reason for dropping by.

But when I check out the peephole in the door, I see Katharine Miller on the other side, nervously twisting her wedding
ring around her finger.
I open the door and try to stop the nervous knots forming in my stomach. “Yes?”
“Hi, Shawn.” She tries to smile, but her bottom lip quivers.
“Are you okay?” I widen the door. “Come in.”
She steps over the threshold tentatively, like she’s not sure she should even be here. “I-I’m sorry to just drop by like
this.”
“It’s okay.” I close the door. “You want a water or something?”
“No, I’m okay. Thank you.” She keeps twisting her ring, and a horribly awkward silence settles over us until she breaks
it by saying, “I, um, found you through that little app on Lucas’s phone. I don’t think he even knows I put it on there. It’s a mom

thing.”
She laughs a little, but it’s sad and watery, like she’s still struggling not to cry.
I let the silence stretch between us a little longer before asking, “Can I do something for you?”
“Oh, no.” She clears her throat, and when she talks again, her voice is a little stronger. “Lucas came over earlier this
afternoon and told me what you overheard his father and I talking about the night you left.”
My stomach drops, and horror zips through me. “Are you serious? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything by telling him.
We were arguing, and it just came out—”
She holds up a hand to stop my rambling. “I know, Shawn. I’m not upset with you about it. I wanted to come tell you

that I’m sorry.”

That only makes everything worse. It’s not like she did anything wrong. “You don’t owe me an apology.”
“I do,” she says firmly. “I made a commitment to foster you, and I didn’t follow through on it. You ran away because of
something that had happened in my house, the place I said you’d be safe in.”
I look away from her because the guilt in her eyes is twisting my stomach. “Natalie was—”
“Happier when you were there,” she cuts me off again. “It was my husband and I who were scared, and I’m so sorry
that it caused you to leave.”
“It’s really fine,” I say. “It wasn’t the first home I left on my own. I was okay.”
“Shawn.” She waits to continue until I glance back at her. “Did you at least wind up in a good place afterwards?”
I think of the nights spent on park benches or rest stop bathrooms. The morning I woke up to find some guy pinning me
to the ground and trying to pull my clothes off. The people I fucked in dirty alleys in exchange for money or a place to sleep.
“Yeah,” I say, though my voice sounds rusty. “The place I ended up in was good.”
I see it in her face that she doesn’t believe me. She presses her lips together and shakes her head.

“I’m fine,” I insist. “You don’t need to be worrying about me, okay?”
She takes a step closer to me and reaches up to pat my cheek. “You always were so good. I’m sorry everything turned

out the way it did.”

I want to tell her again that it’s okay, but the words get lodged in my throat. It doesn’t feel okay. It still hurts when I
think about lying awake and hearing Richard talking about me like that. It hurts to remember realizing it was just another home
that I wasn’t good enough for. Realizing there probably wasn’t a home out there for someone like me. My scars and my
nightmares were too much.
I’d tried to leave a note for Lucas and Natalie, but in the end, I couldn’t write anything down. Everything was too raw
in the moment. And when I try to think about it, that same pain comes right back.
Katharine releases me and steps back. “I’m glad you and Lucas found each other again.” She gives me one more
tentative smile, then leaves the hotel room, closing the door softly behind her.
Even after she’s gone, the scent of her perfume lingers, reminding me of that summer when I was sixteen. I never fully
trusted that I’d stay there for a long period of time because at that point, I’d been in so many homes, I knew how it worked.
When I first got there, I’d waited for them to start hitting me, yelling at me, holding food from me. But they never did

any of that. There was so much peace in that house. Then Natalie got sick, and it was like they didn’t know how to operate with
that. Not that I can blame them; I don’t have any children, but I can’t imagine having to watch one of them having to go through
something like that.
Still, it was the first home I ever really didn’t want to leave. Most of it was probably because I was falling in love with
Lucas, but it was also because I started to feel safe there. I didn’t wake up every night searching the corners of the room for my
dad or someone else waiting to hurt me. I stopped flinching when doors slammed shut. I’d started hoping that maybe I’d found
somewhere I could stay until I turned eighteen.
Going back out on the streets was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It felt like I’d grown soft while I lived with
the Millers. Everything was brighter and harsher and colder than I remembered it being.
And not going back into the system meant no food or shelter or anything. I’d given a couple of guys blowjobs when I
spent a few nights on the street between homes, but after I left the Millers’ house, I did it a lot more frequently. In a twisted
way, it helped me forget about Lucas for a little while.
I back up and sit on the edge of the bed, trying not to go back there. Back to the place in my life where nothing made
sense except pain. I knew what to do with someone hitting me. I knew what to do with someone pushing their hand down my
pants no matter how many times I said no. But I didn’t know what to do with the feelings that came after leaving Lucas and his
family.

I felt so adrift and out of sorts. I hated that I’d already started depending on them in certain ways. Something I’d tried
really hard not to do ever since I lived with my father.

Without really thinking about it, I lift my left hand to run it along my right forearm. My fingers catch on the scars that
wrap around close to my elbow. I’ll never forget the fire that burned through my skin when that whip cracked across my back

before the tip of it snapped on my arm. I remember crying and begging my father to stop, but it was like he couldn’t hear me. Or
maybe he just didn’t want to.
I close my eyes when my vision blurs with tears. I hate thinking about that time in my life. I hate remembering how
much my own dad hated me. How much most of the foster families didn’t truly want me.
Lucas was the first person to ever make me feel like maybe I belonged somewhere. It’s part of why it hurt so bad to
leave him.
A sudden knock sounds at my door, and I wipe my eyes before standing. This time when I look out the peephole, it’s
Lucas I see looking back at me. As soon as I open the door to let him in, he frowns.
“Are you okay? You look upset.”
“I’m fine.” I step back to let him enter the room, then close the door after him. “Your mom came by. I can’t believe you
went and chewed them out.”
“I didn’t. Well, I guess I chewed my dad out. But…” He lifts a hand and runs it down the back of his neck. “It’s not her

fault. My dad’s the one who knew you could hear everything they said.”
My stomach dips. “He did?”
Regret flashes in his eyes. “Oh, um, yeah. That’s why I got so angry when you told me.”
“You don’t need to be mad at him,” I say softly. “It was their house, Lucas. They had a right to talk about me, whether or
not I could hear them.”
He shakes his head like he wants to argue, but instead, he takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine gently.
“Why were you crying before I got here?”
I look away from him, hating that he could read the redness around my eyes and nose. “It was nothing. I was just
thinking about my dad. That’s all.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” It was hard enough to even tell Shanna the small part of it. I don’t want that stuff in Lucas’s head.
“Okay, you don’t have to. I just want you to know that if you ever wanted to, I’d be here to listen. You wouldn’t scare
me away.”
He’s quiet for a minute, as if giving me a chance to change my mind. I don’t
After a beat, he says, “I stopped by to see if I could take you out for dinner.”
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 A violation of the terms of the armistice by private
individuals acting on their own initiative, only confers the
right of demanding the punishment of the offenders, and, if
necessary, indemnity for the losses sustained.

{363}

SECTION III.
On Military Authority over Hostile Territory.

ARTICLE XLII.
Territory is considered occupied when it is actually placed
under the authority of the hostile army. The occupation
applies only to the territory where such authority is
established, and in a position to assert itself.

ARTICLE XLIII.
The authority of the legitimate power having actually passed
into the hands of the occupant, the latter shall take all
steps in his power to re-establish and insure, as far as
possible, public order and safety, while respecting, unless
absolutely prevented, the laws in force in the country.

ARTICLE XLIV.
Any compulsion of the population of occupied territory to take
part in military operations against its own country is
prohibited.

ARTICLE XLV.
Any pressure on the population of occupied territory to take
the oath to the hostile Power is prohibited.

ARTICLE XLVI.
Family honours and rights, individual lives and private
property, as well as religious convictions and liberty, must
be respected. Private property cannot be confiscated.
ARTICLE XLVII.
Pillage is formally prohibited.

ARTICLE XLVIII.
If, in the territory occupied, the occupant collects the
taxes, dues, and tolls imposed for the benefit of the State,
he shall do it, as far as possible, in accordance with the
rules in existence and the assessment in force, and will in
consequence be bound to defray the expenses of the
administration of the occupied territory on the same scale as
that by which the legitimate Government was bound.

ARTICLE XLIX.
If, besides the taxes mentioned in the preceding Article, the
occupant levies other money taxes in the occupied territory,
this can only be for military necessities or the
administration of such territory.

ARTICLE L.
No general penalty, pecuniary or otherwise, can be inflicted
on the population on account of the acts of individuals for
which it cannot be regarded as collectively responsible.

ARTICLE LI.
No tax shall be collected except under a written order and on
the responsibility of a Commander-in-chief. This collection
shall only take place, as far as possible, in accordance with
the rules in existence and the assessment of taxes in force.
For every payment a receipt shall be given to the taxpayer.

ARTICLE LII.
Neither requisitions in kind nor services can be demanded from
communes or inhabitants except for the necessities of the army
of occupation. They must be in proportion to the resources of the
country, and of such a nature as not to involve the population
in the obligation of taking part in military operations
against their country. These requisitions and services shall
only be demanded on the authority of the Commander in the
locality occupied. The contributions in kind shall, as far as
possible, be paid for in ready money; if not, their receipt
shall be acknowledged.

ARTICLE LIII.
An army of occupation can only take possession of the cash,
funds, and property liable to requisition belonging strictly
to the State, depots of arms, means of transport, stores and
supplies, and, generally, all movable property of the State
which may be used for military operations. Railway plant, land
telegraphs, telephones, steamers, and other ships, apart from
cases governed by maritime law, as well as depots of arms and,
generally, all kinds of war material, even though belonging to
Companies or to private persons, are likewise material which
may serve for military operations, but they must be restored
at the conclusion of peace, and indemnities paid for them.

ARTICLE LIV.
The plant of railways coming from neutral States, whether the
property of those States, or of Companies, or of private
persons, shall be sent back to them as soon as possible.

ARTICLE LV.
The occupying State shall only be regarded as administrator
and usufructuary of the public buildings, real property,
forests, and agricultural works belonging to the hostile
State, and situated in the occupied country. It must protect
the capital of these properties, and administer it according
to the rules of usufruct.

ARTICLE LVI.
The property of the communes, that of religious, charitable,
and educational institutions, and those of arts and science,
even when State property, shall be treated as private
property. All seizure of, and destruction, or intentional
damage done to such institutions, to historical monuments,
works of art or science, is prohibited, and should be made the
subject of proceedings.

SECTION IV.
On the Internment of Belligerents and the Care of the Wounded
in Neutral Countries.

ARTICLE LVII.
A neutral State which receives in its territory troops
belonging to the belligerent armies shall intern them, as far
as possible, at a distance from the theatre of war. It can
keep them in camps, and even confine them in fortresses or
localities assigned for this purpose. It shall decide whether
officers may be left at liberty on giving their parole that
they will not leave the neutral territory without
authorization.

ARTICLE LVIII.
Failing a special Convention, the neutral State shall supply
the interned with the food, clothing, and relief required by
humanity. At the conclusion of peace, the expenses caused by
the internment shall be made good.

ARTICLE LIX.
A neutral State may authorize the passage through its
territory of wounded or sick belonging to the belligerent
armies, on condition that the trains bringing them shall carry
neither combatants nor war material. In such a case, the neutral
State is bound to adopt such measures of safety and control as
may be necessary for the purpose. Wounded and sick brought
under these conditions into neutral territory by one of the
belligerents, and belonging to the hostile party, must be
guarded by the neutral State, so as to insure their not taking
part again in the military operations. The same duty shall
devolve on the neutral State with regard to wounded or sick of
the other army who may be committed to its care.
{364}

ARTICLE LX.
The Geneva Convention applies to sick and wounded interned in
neutral territory. The Convention establishing these
regulations was not signed by the delegates from the United
States, nor by those of Great Britain. The reasons for
abstention on the part of the latter were stated in a
communication from the British War Office, as follows: "Lord
Lansdowne … considers it essential that the revised Articles,
together with the Preamble and final dispositions, should be
submitted to the most careful examination by the high military
authorities and by the legal advisers of Her Majesty's
Government, before he can pronounce a definitive opinion on
the three points raised. Subject to such reserves as may
result from this examination, Lord Lansdowne is of opinion
that the Project of Convention is in general of such a nature
that it may, in principle, be accepted as a basis of
instructions for the guidance of the British army, but he is
unable, until that examination has been completed, to offer an
opinion as to whether it is desirable to enter into an
international engagement. Lord Lansdowne would therefore
suggest, for Lord Salisbury's consideration, that instructions
should be given to Sir Julian Pauncefote to reserve full
liberty for Her Majesty's Government, to accept only such
Articles as, after mature examination by their military and
legal advisers, they may approve of." Probably the delegates
from the United States were similarly instructed by their
government.

Added to the Convention relative to Laws and Customs of War

were three Declarations, separately signed, as follows:

1. "The contracting powers agree to prohibit, for a term of

five years, the launching of projectiles and explosives from
balloons, or by other new methods of a similar nature."
2. "The contracting parties agree to abstain from the use of
bullets which expand or flatten easily in the human body, such
as bullets with a hard envelope which does not entirely cover
the core, or is pierced with incisions."

3. "The contracting parties agree to abstain from the use of

projectiles the object of which is the diffusion of
asphyxiating or deleterious gases."

The first of these Declarations was signed by the delegates

from the United States, but not by those from Great Britain.
The second and third were signed by neither British nor
American representatives. In the discussion that preceded the
adoption of the second Declaration by a majority of the
Conference, Captain Crozier, of the American delegation,
presented the objections to it, on which he and his colleagues
were in agreement with the British representatives. He said
"there was a great difference of opinion as to whether the
bullets of small calibre rifles sufficed to put men 'hors de
combat,' which was admitted on all sides to be the object
which rifle fire was expected to achieve. He considered the
proposition before the Conference to be unsatisfactory, since
it limited the prohibition to details of construction which
only included a single case, and left all others out of
consideration. He would not enter into a recapitulation of all
the advantages of small calibre rifles, since they were
perfectly well known; but he felt sure that certain Powers
might adopt calibres even smaller than those at present in
use, and, in this case, he maintained that they would be
compelled to secure increased shock by some new method of
construction of the projectile. He considered that it would be
perfectly easy to devise such projectiles while keeping within
the terms of the proposed interdiction, and he thought that
the result might be the ultimate adoption of a bullet of an
even less humane character than those aimed at by the
Resolution. He declared that he had nothing to say for or
against the Dum-Dum bullet [see, in this volume, DUM-DUM
 BULLET], of which he knew nothing except what had been stated
during the meetings of the First Commission, but that he was
not disposed to make any condemnation without proofs, and
these proofs had not been forthcoming."

As for the third Declaration, it was opposed by Captain Mahan,

who spoke for the Americans, because "he considered the use of
asphyxiating shell far less inhuman and cruel than the
employment of submarine boats, and as the employment of
submarine boats had not been interdicted by the Conference
(though specially mentioned with that object in the Mouravieff
Circular), he felt constrained to maintain his vote in favour of
the use of asphyxiating shell on the original ground that the
United States' Government was averse to placing any
restriction on the inventive genius of its citizens in
inventing and providing new weapons of war."

PEACE CONFERENCE:
Convention for the adaptation to maritime warfare of the
principles of the Geneva Convention of August 22, 1864.

ARTICLE I.
Military hospital-ships, that is to say, ships constructed or
assigned by States specially and solely for the purpose of
assisting the wounded, sick, or shipwrecked, and the names of
which shall have been communicated to the belligerent Powers
at the commencement or during the course of hostilities, and
in any case before they are employed, shall be respected and
cannot be captured while hostilities last. These ships,
moreover, are not on the same footing as men-of-war as regards
their stay in a neutral port.

ARTICLE II.
Hospital-ships, equipped wholly or in part at the cost of
private individuals or officially recognized relief Societies,
shall likewise be respected and exempt from capture, provided
the belligerent Power to whom they belong has given them an
 official commission and has notified their names to the
Hostile Power at the commencement of or during hostilities,
and in any case before they are employed. These ships should
be furnished with a certificate from the competent
authorities, declaring that they had been under their control
while fitting out and on final departure.

ARTICLE III.
Hospital-ships, equipped wholly or in part at the cost of
private individuals or officially recognized Societies of
neutral countries, shall be respected and exempt from capture,
if the neutral Power to whom they belong has given them an
official commission and notified their names to the
belligerent Powers at the commencement of or during
hostilities, and in any case before they are employed.

ARTICLE IV.
The ships mentioned in Articles I, II, and III shall afford
relief and assistance to the wounded, sick, and shipwrecked of
the belligerents independently of their nationality. The
Governments engage not to use these ships for any military
purpose. These ships must not in any way hamper the movements
of the combatants. During and after an engagement they will
act at their own risk and peril. The belligerents will have
the right to control and visit them; they can refuse to help
them, order them off, make them take a certain course, and put
a Commissioner on board; they can even detain them, if important
circumstances require it. As far as possible the belligerents
shall inscribe in the sailing papers of the hospital-ships the
orders they give them.

{365}

ARTICLE V.
The military hospital-ships shall be distinguished by being
painted white outside with a horizontal band of green about a
metre and a half in breadth. The ships mentioned in Articles
II and III shall be distinguished by being painted white
outside with a horizontal band of red about a metre and a half
in breadth. The boats of the ships above mentioned, as also
small craft which may be used for hospital work, shall be
distinguished by similar painting. All hospital-ships shall
make themselves known by hoisting, together with their
national flag, the white flag with a red cross provided by the
Geneva Convention.

ARTICLE VI.
Neutral merchantmen, yachts, or vessels, having, or taking on
board, sick, wounded, or shipwrecked of the belligerents,
cannot be captured for so doing, but they are liable to
capture for any violation of neutrality they may have
committed.

ARTICLE VII.
The religious, medical, or hospital staff of any captured ship
is inviolable, and its members cannot be made prisoners of
war. On leaving the ship they take with them the objects and
surgical instruments which are their own private property.
This staff shall continue to discharge its duties while
necessary, and can afterwards leave when the
Commander-in-chief considers it possible. The belligerents
must guarantee to the staff that has fallen into their hands
the enjoyment of their salaries intact.

ARTICLE VIII.
Sailors and soldiers who are taken on board when sick or
wounded, to whatever nation they belong, shall be protected
and looked after by the captors.

ARTICLE IX.
The shipwrecked, wounded, or sick of one of the belligerents
who fall into the hands of the other, are prisoners of war.
The captor must decide, according to circumstances, if it is
best to keep them or send them to a port of his own country,
to a neutral port, or even to a hostile port. In the last
case, prisoners thus repatriated cannot serve as long as the
war lasts.

ARTICLE X.
The shipwrecked, wounded, or sick, who are landed at a neutral
port with the consent of the local authorities, must, failing
a contrary arrangement between the neutral State and the
belligerents, be guarded by the neutral State, so that they
cannot again take part in the military operations. The
expenses of entertainment and internment shall be borne by the
State to which the shipwrecked, wounded, or sick belong.

ARTICLE XI.
The rules contained in the above Articles are binding only on
the Contracting Powers, in case of war between two or more of
them. The said rules shall cease to be binding from the time
when, in a war between the Contracting Powers, one of the
belligerents is joined by a non-Contracting Power.

ARTICLE XII.
The present Convention shall be ratified as soon as possible.
The ratifications shall be deposited at The Hague. On the
receipt of each ratification a "procès-verbal" shall be drawn
up, a copy of which, duly certified, shall be sent through the
diplomatic channel to all the Contracting Powers.

ARTICLE XIII.
The non-Signatory Powers who accepted the Geneva Convention of
the 22d August, 1864, are allowed to adhere to the present
Convention. For this purpose they must make their adhesion
known to the Contracting Powers by means of a written
notification addressed to the Netherland Government, and by it
communicated to all the other Contracting Powers.

ARTICLE XIV.
In the event of one of the High Contracting Parties denouncing
 the present Convention, such denunciation shall not take
effect until a year after the notification made in writing to
the Netherland Government, and forthwith communicated by it to
all the other Contracting Powers. This denunciation shall only
affect the notifying Power.

In faith of which the respective Plenipotentiaries have signed

the present Convention and affixed their seals thereto.

[Signed by the representatives of Belgium, Denmark, Spain,

Mexico, France, Greece, Montenegro, the Netherlands, Persia,
Portugal, Roumania, Russia, Siam, Sweden and Norway, and
Bulgaria]

----------PEACE CONFERENCE: End--------

PEARY'S EXPLORATIONS.

See (in this volume)

POLAR EXPLORATION, 1895, 1896, 1897, 1898—.

PEKING: A. D. 1900.
The siege of the Foreign Legations and their rescue.
Occupation of the city by the allied forces.
Looting and outrage.
March through the "Forbidden City."

See (in this volume)

CHINA: A. D. 1900 (JUNE-AUGUST);
and (AUGUST 4-16, and 15-28).

PEKING: A. D. 1900-1901.
Seizure of grounds for a fortified Legation Quarter.

See (in this volume)

CHINA: A. D. 1900-1901 (NOVEMBER-FEBRUARY).
PEKING SYNDICATE, Chinese concessions to the.

See (in this volume)

CHINA: A. D. 1898 (FEBRUARY-DECEMBER).

PELAGIC SEAL KILLING, The question of.

See (in this volume)

BERING SEA QUESTIONS.

PELEW ISLANDS:
Sale by Spain to Germany.

See (in this volume)

CAROLINE AND MARIANNE ISLANDS.

PENNSYLVANIA: A. D. 1897.
Great strike of coal miners.
Conflict at Lattimer.

See (in this volume)

INDUSTRIAL DISTURBANCES: A. D. 1897.

PENNSYLVANIA: A. D. 1900.
Strike of anthracite coal miners.

See (in this volume)

INDUSTRIAL DISTURBANCES: A. D. 1900.

PENNSYLVANIA, University of:

Expeditions to explore the ruins of Nippur.

See (in this volume)

ARCHÆOLOGICAL RESEARCH: BABYLONIA:
AMERICAN EXPLORATION.

PENNY POSTAGE, British Imperial.

 See (in this volume)
ENGLAND: A. D. 1898 (DECEMBER).

PENSIONS, Old-Age.

See references (in this volume) under

OLD-AGE PENSIONS.

PEONES.

See (in this volume)

PORTO RICO: A. D. 1898-1899 (AUGUST-JULY).

PEOPLE'S PARTY, The.

See (in this volume)

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA:
A. D. 1896 (JUNE-NOVEMBER);
and 1900 (MAY-NOVEMBER).

{366}

PERRY'S EXPEDITION TO JAPAN,

Proposed monument to commemorate.

See (in this volume)

JAPAN: A. D. 1901.

PERSIA: A.D. 1896.

Assassination of the Shah.

The Shah of Persia, Nâsr-ed-din, was shot, on the 1st day of

May, when entering the mosque of Shah Abdul Azim, by one Mirza
Mahomed Reza, said to be of the Babi sect. Nâsr-ed-din had
reigned since 1848. He was succeeded by his son,
Muzaffar-ed-din, who was forty-three years old at his
 accession.

PERSIA: A. D. 1897-1899.
Recent exploration of the ruins of Susa.

See (in this volume)

ARCHÆOLOGICAL RESEARCH: PERSIA.

PERSIA: A. D. 1899 (May-July).

Representation in the Peace Conference at The Hague.

See (in this volume)

PEACE CONFERENCE.

PERSIA: A. D. 1900.
Russian railway projects.

See (in this volume)

RUSSIA IN ASIA: A. D. 1900.

PERSIAN GULF, Railways to the.

See (in this volume)

TURKEY: A. D. 1899 (NOVEMBER);
and RUSSIA IN ASIA: A. D. 1900.

PERU: A. D. 1894-1899.
Overthrow of an unconstitutional government.
Legitimate authority restored.

The death of President Bermudez, in March, 1894, brought about

a revolutionary movement in the interest of ex-President
Caceres. Constitutionally, the First Vice-President, Dr. del
Solar, would have succeeded the deceased President, until a
new election was held; but the Second Vice-President, who was
a partisan of Caceres, and who had the army with him, seized
control of the government. In May, Caceres was proclaimed
 Provisional President, and in August it was claimed for him
that he had been elected by Congress; but the election was not
recognized by his opponents. A formidable rebellion was
organized, under the lead of ex-President Pierola, who had
been in exile and now returned. Civil war raged for nearly a
year, Pierola gaining steadily. In February, 1895, his forces
reached the capital and laid siege to it. On the 17th of March
they entered the city, and there was desperate fighting in the
streets of Lima for three days, nearly 2,000 of the
combatants being killed and more than 1,500 wounded. Chiefly
through the efforts of the Papal delegate, the bloody conflict
was finally stopped and terms of peace arranged. A provisional
government, made up from both parties, was formed, under which
a peaceable election was held in the following July. Pierola
was then elected President. Caceres and his partisans
attempted a rising the next year (1896), but it had no
success. In the northern department of Loreto, on the border
of Ecuador, an abortive movement for independence was set on
foot by an ambitious official, who gave the government
considerable trouble, but accomplished nothing more. In 1899,
President Pierola was succeeded by Eduardo L. de Romana,
elected in May. A rebellion attempted that year by one General
Durand was promptly suppressed.

PERU: A. D. 1894.-1900.
The dispute with Chile concerning Tacna and Arica.

See (in this volume)

CHILE: A. D. 1884-1900.

PESCADORES ISLANDS:
Cession by China to Japan.

See (in this volume)

CHINA: A. D. 1894-1895.

PHILADELPHIA: A. D. 1897.
Opening of the Commercial Museum.

A Commercial Museum which has acquired great importance was

opened in Philadelphia on the 2d of June, 1897. "In both aim
and results the institution is unique. Other countries, also,
have their commercial museums, which are doing excellent work.
Their scope, however, is much more limited; the Museum of
Philadelphia differing from them in that it is an active, not
merely a passive, aid to the prospective exporter. The foreign
museums, situated in London, Bremen, Hamburg, Stuttgart,
Vienna, Havre, Brussels, and various other commercial centres,
do not extend active aid, but content themselves with more or
less complete displays of samples of domestic and foreign
competitive goods sold in export markets. The theory of their
organization is, that the manufacturer, contemplating a
foreign business campaign, will be enabled to pursue it
intelligently through the study of these samples. The
initiative is left to the exporter himself, who must discover
what opportunities exist for him abroad; and it is also left
to him to take advantage of his opportunities in the way that
may seem best to him. The display of manufactured samples is
only a small part of the work of the Philadelphia Museum. This
institution shows not only what goods are sold in foreign
markets, but also where those markets are, what commercial
conditions obtain in connection with them, what particular
kinds of goods they demand, how these markets may be best
competed for, and where the raw material may be most
profitably purchased. It furnishes information, furthermore,
as to business connections as well as the credit ratings of
the agents or firms recommended. To secure specific
information it is not necessary to visit the institution
itself; for reports of trade opportunities abroad are
distributed by the Museum to its members; and these reports
are provided with photographs of many of the articles which,
at that particular time, are in demand, in certain parts of
the world. Under these circumstances, the exporter is
practically provided with a staff of expert, foreign
 representatives, without any expense to himself beyond the
merely nominal fee for membership. While its activities are
dependent to a certain extent upon the income derived from
subscribers, the Museum is not a money-making institution.
Indeed, its income from this source does not cover half the
expenditures. It is enabled to carry on its work only by
reason of the generous, annual appropriation provided for it
by the City Councils of Philadelphia. But a very large income
is required to maintain a staff of 150 employees in
Philadelphia, as well as 500 regular and several thousand
occasional correspondents scattered throughout the world. The
only advantage which the city itself derives from the Museum
is that resulting indirectly from the presence of foreign
buyers attracted to Philadelphia by the Museum's work."

W. P. Wilson,
The Philadelphia Commercial Museum
(Forum, September, 1899).

PHILADELPHIA: A. D. 1899.
National Export Exposition and International
Commercial Congress.

See (in this volume)

INTERNATIONAL COMMERCIAL CONGRESS.

{367}

----------PHILIPPINE ISLANDS: Start--------

PHILIPPINE ISLANDS:
Number, area, shore line, and population.

"In regard to the number and areas of the islands in the

archipelago there must necessarily be a certain inaccuracy,
because the group has never been properly surveyed, and the
only method of determining the number and areas is by counting
 and measuring on the charts. The following figures are
probably the best ever compiled. They are drawn from
enumeration and mensuration on maps recently obtained by the
United States commissioners to the Philippines and which are
without doubt the most complete and the most thorough ever
made. The following is quoted from the introduction to these
maps, which are being published by the United States Coast and
Geodetic Survey. All the islands or groups having an area of over
20 square miles have been measured, and the areas are here
given in square miles and square kilometers. Many different
statements have been made in regard to the number of the
islands composing the archipelago. The cause for this must be
attributed to the scale of the charts on which the count was
made and the difficulty of distinguishing between rocks and
formations of sufficient area to dignify them by the name of
islands. Thus on a small-scale Spanish chart of the entire
group 948 islands were counted; on various large-scale charts
of the same area there were found 1,725. The principal
islands, with the extent of shore line of some of them and
their area, are given on the following lists. The areas were
carefully measured, but are subject to the inaccuracy of the
length of general shore line.

Name. Square Miles. Square

kilometers.

Babuyan 36
93
Bagata, or Quinalasag 27
70
Balabae 38
98
Basilan 350
907
Batan 21
54
Bantayan 26
67
Bohol 1,430
3,727
Bucas 41
106
Burias 153
422
Busuanga 328
850
Calayan 37
96
Calamian 117
303
Camiguin (Babnyanes group) 54
140
Camiguin 71
184
Catandunanes 680
1,761
Cebu 1,742
4,512
Dalupiri 20
53
Dinagat 259
671
Dumaran 95
246
Fuga 21
54
Guimaras 176
456
 Leite (Leyte) 2,713
7,027
Linapacan 40
104
Luzon 47,238
122,346
Mactan 20
52
Malhou (Homonkon) 35
91
Marindugna 287
743
Masbate 1.200
3,341
Mindanao 36,237
93,854
Mindoro 3,972
10,987
Negros 4,854
12,571
Olutanga 71
184
Panaon 57
148
Panay 4,708
12,194
Panglao 24
62
Pangutaran 32
85
Polillo 231
598
Samal 105