Page 143 of Tattered (Lark Cove 1)

“Right again. Are you getting all settled into town?”

“I am. I didn’t have much to move so it made unpacking easy.”

Jackson said something else to Dad, but my heart was beating so hard I couldn’t focus on their conversation.

Jackson. His name was Jackson. And he lived in Lark Cove.

“Willa.”

Jackson and Willa. Willa and Jackson. Our names went together like peanut butter and jelly.

“Willa.”

Maybe people in town would merge us into a nickname. Will-son. Jack-illa. Both were terrible, but I’d think of something better tonight.

“Earth to Willa!”

I flinched, my eyes whipping up. “Huh?”

Dad shook his head and laughed. “Lost in outer space again?”

“Yeah.” Heat crept up my cheeks as I bent to pick up my fallen Snickers. With it in hand, I came out from behind the aisle.

“Jackson, meet my daughter.” Before Dad could finish his introduction, the clerk stole his attention, asking if he wanted his weekly scratch ticket too.

“Hey.” Jackson waved. “I’m Jackson.”

“I’m Willa,” I mumbled. Articulating words was impossible standing in front of him.

“Nice to meet you, Willow.”

“It’s, um . . . Willa.”

But Jackson had already turned away. The clerk had his attention again, joking with both Jackson and Dad that if either won the lottery, he wanted a kickback.

With his purchases in hand, Jackson said good-bye to Dad and went right for the door and pushed outside.

“Ready to go?” Dad asked.

I nodded and handed him my Snickers.

As the clerk rang up my candy bar, Dad’s ticket, a bag of M&M’s and two cans of Coke, I peered outside, hoping to get one last glimpse of Jackson. But with the front windows stacked full of beer boxes and a rotating rack of maps blocking the only other free space, I couldn’t see anything past our car parked right outside the door.

I drummed my fingers on the counter, willing the clerk to make change faster. Finally, he handed Dad a dollar and some coins, and I bolted for the door, stepping into the bright, summer sunshine just in time to see Jackson slide into an old Chevy truck.

“Did you forget something, honey?” Dad appeared at my side, handing me my Snickers and Coke.

“Whoopsie. Sorry, Dad.”

He just laughed. “It’s okay.”

I took my things, then slowly walked toward our car, keeping one eye on Jackson’s truck as it pulled onto the highway. When it disappeared behind a patch of trees, I sighed and resumed normal speed, opening the passenger door and sliding inside.

Luckily for me, Dad didn’t comment on my strange behavior. He just popped the top on his Coke, took a sip and backed us out of the parking lot to go home.

“Um, Dad? Who was that?”

He pulled onto the highway, going the opposite direction of where Jackson had turned. “Who was who?”