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wait.” She sashays to the door, swaying her hips with each exaggerated step.
    When she’s gone, Beau licks his lips. “So, Emma, I’ve been meaning to mention something.” He rolls the cigar over his tongue with his stubby fingers. “You sure have matured, haven’t you?”
    My stomach seizes. I slump into my seat and tuck in my shoulders, hoping he’s referring to the extra inch I grew this past year and not the reason I graduated out of a training bra. Just in case, I drape a long hank of hair over my chest.
    “Um, yeah, thanks. I guess,” I mumble into my lap.
    Cooper groans. “Come on, Dad.”
    Beau scoffs and waves him off.
    Cooper holds his hand out for me to grab and pulls me out the chair. “Emma and I have something we need to do.”
    Upstairs? With Cooper? Away from his creeper of a dad? I’m totally there.

Chapter Four
    I flip on Cooper’s computer and tap my fingers on his desk, waiting for it to boot.
    “Hey, Cooper,” I twist and call over my shoulder, about to ask him for his password, but the words freeze in my throat.
    He’s tugged off his shirt and is standing in the middle of his room, bare chested.
    I swallow hard and avert my eyes. But that doesn’t stop the flitty somersaults in my belly.
    “Sorry, I couldn’t stand the stink of that shirt.” He laughs, balls up the dirty fabric, and tosses it in the hamper.
    A rocket of red-hot embarrassment flushes my cheeks. I gulp and turn back to the computer.
    “Oh, here, let me get that for you.” He leans across me, poking the keys with one hand, entering his encrypted code. Not that I’m even looking at what he’s typing. I’m too busy reveling in his Cooperness—which just happens to be the perfect mixture of sun and salt—and trying not to faint. He might claim to stink, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
    He pulls a fresh shirt and shorts from his dresser. “I’m going to take a quick shower and will be right back, Emmaline. You should be able to search whatever you need now.”
    Um, yeah, if I could think straight and my hands weren’t shaking.
    He used my real name. Finally. I’ve waited a whole school year to hear it, and it sounds just as good as I remember, slipping easily off his tongue. No one besides my parents calls me that, and that’s only when I’m in serious trouble. I’ve banned its use by everyone else because no one can get it right, always mangling the “line” to “lynn” or even “leen,” and that drives me crazier than Brillo on a chalkboard. But Cooper has always known how to pronounce it, almost singing it in that silky southern accent of his. It was worth the wait.
    The bathroom door clicks closed, and I stare at the blank search engine, trying to remember what I’m doing here. Oh, right. Burn remedies for Jack.
    Even though I already know how to treat the burn, I do a few searches anyway, just in case Cooper checks. A few clicks later, I’ve seen pretty much all I need to know. Compared to the nasty burn pictures splattered across the screen, Jack’s wound is a joke.
    Bored and alone in Cooper’s room, I go through the stuff on his desk. The edge of a glossy photo sticks out of his school agenda. My pulse pounds. Maybe it’s a picture of him and a girl from school. Even though I know I shouldn’t look, and he’s totally free to date whoever he chooses, I can’t resist. I peel the corner of the agenda back and sneak a peek.
    My heart cracks. It’s a picture of Cooper and his mom, probably taken just before she died. He looks about five and is nestled in her lap, gazing at her in adoration. She’s beyond beautiful—golden-blonde with a kindness in her eyes and a warmth to her smile that reaches right off the paper and wraps around you. I’ve only seen this picture once before, by accident, when I was looking for a sweatshirt on a cool summer night, and it was tucked inside one of his hoodies. Just as I did then, I slip the photo back in its hiding place, vowing never to