Those words hit me right in my chest, warming me. Feeling needed.
Balancing Cora on one arm, I crouch and lift her sister with my free arm and adjust them against my body. They both tuck their heads in the crook of my neck. A sense of completion fills my chest as I walk down the hallway toward the waiting area.
I can’t control what happened to Josh. I can’t even begin to process it right now. All I can do is keep moving, because if I stop to think about it, the grief will swallow me whole. Focusing on the girls is what I need to do. I will make sure I’m here for them.
The rest will have to wait.
THE MOMENT THE MOVING TRUCK pulls up in front of the two-story house with a navy blue painted exterior on Pineway Drive, I flip the door handle open. I grab the last of the lemon drops from the plastic bag and pop it inside my mouth and then hop out, eager to leave the confined space I’ve been sharing with my family for the last six hours. That was the last time my dad stopped to refill the tank. Dad flat out refused to make more than one stop. He said we needed to be in Willow Hill before nightfall.
I look around while shaking my legs to get rid of the stiffness there, then stare at the house in front of me. It’s similar to the ones on this street. The front lawn is a bit shabby, though. The grass is missing in some areas and there are no flowers to boast of. With a little TLC, though, it could flourish.
I don’t care as long as we have a place to live and sleep. I hope that Dad doesn’t get another promotion because it would mean us moving again.
Behind the house is a line of trees, which I guess is the Pineway Woods. I googled the location before we moved here to Willow Hill, Florida. Thank goodness for Google Earth, as I now have more information about this town.
Population: 68,023
Next popular destination: Jacksonville and Gainesville.
I turn around, ready to open the trunk, but stop when something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye.
Not something. Someone.
Two boys are standing on the front lawn of the house next to the one we’re moving in to. The only difference between the two houses is the exterior, since theirs is gray in color.
One of the boys is a foot taller and looks older. Older than me anyway, but not by much. He’s wearing an easy smile on his face, tossing a basketball between his hands. Even from here, I can see his eyes are a brilliant blue, like the Caribbean. He waves in our general direction in greeting and I reciprocate. The second boy lingers a step back, as though he doesn’t want to be noticed.
I notice everything about him, though. The black beanie on his head, the black wife-beater, the way the shorts hug his hips, his wide shoulders, his lanky form, angular jaw, full lips and lastly, his deep set gray eyes. There is nothing Caribbean in them. They are stormy, like his features. His gaze on me is intense and searching. When he hones in on my forearms, they widen, probably taking in the scars there. I swear I hear his sharp intake of breath from where I’m standing. He lifts those stormy grays to my face. I don’t see pity, just a million questions and something else I’ve never seen in the eyes of the opposite sex before.
Interest. Awareness. Its swiftness and fierceness as it sweeps through me, leaves me shaking in my sky-blue Keds.
God.
Is it even possible for someone to look at you as if they totally get you? Someone you had no idea existed until the very moment you met?
Clenching my jaw, I inhale, somehow finding the strength to glare at the boy who has managed to make me shiver. I cross my arms on my chest and raise a brow, challenging his stare. He narrows those astounding eyes at me, but I’m not about to give him an inch of me. I already gave him too much when my body betrayed how his perusal affected me. I doubt I have the ability to even walk right now. Honestly, he’s intimidating as hell. I feel drawn to him, which is insane. We just met. Things like this don’t happen in the real world. They don’t happen to me.
Or do they?
I’m insane, which is why I need to keep my distance from him.
Stormy Eyes has given a whole new meaning to the word interesting.
“Hello boys!” my mother chirps from somewhere behind me, effectively drawing my attention away from Stormy Eyes.
“Darn it, Caroline. Do you have to yell like that?” Dad’s voice is like a whip, slashing through the air, sending a chill down my spine.