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off the bar, but he doesn’t back away. He stands there devouring me with his eyes. I want so badly to take him up on his offer and stay after closing, but if I’m not home on time, Destiny will come looking for me. If she finds me with Bran, we’ll be in another U-Haul tomorrow, on our way to another nowhere town.
    At least this town has Bran.
    So, instead, I slip off the stool and put my guitar away, then empty my tip jar into my bag. “I need to head out.”
    Bran leans his hands on the bar across from me, his pecs flexing with the motion. “Why?”
    “Someone’s waiting for me.”
    His full red lips press into a line and he nods slowly. “You’ll be back next weekend?”
    “If you want me.”
    His eyes flash an inferno into mine. “I definitely want you.”
    I gush into my panties as my breathing goes shaky. I take a deep breath to settle my nerves. “Then I’ll be here.”
    I feel his eyes follow me to the door and when I pass through, the cool night air feels good on my scorched skin. I take my time walking home and feel the fire inside me begin to cool. I hope by the time I walk through the apartment door three minutes before curfew that my face isn’t still flaming.
    Destiny’s on the couch with a tub of chocolate ice cream, watching one of the Jurassic Park movies. “How did it go?”
    I pull the money from my bag and lay it on the table. “Probably around a hundred.”
    “They’re too polite around here not to tip good.”
    “Looks that way,” I say, sliding into the chair. I start sorting and count. One hundred and forty six tonight.
    “Grab a spoon,” she says when I stand, unfolding her long legs from under her and sitting up straighter.
    I go to the drawer and grab one, then drop onto the couch next to Destiny.
    She hooks her elbow around my neck and pulls me closer. “I think we’re going to be okay here.”
    The raised crescent scar on her forehead rubs against mine and the image of blood floods my memory. I can barely remember a time when Dad didn’t hit Mom, but other than yelling at us any time we happened to cross his path, he mostly ignored Destiny and me. But that scar has something to do with Dad—and the fire. I just can’t remember what, exactly. Destiny and I don’t talk about that night. Ever. So, instead of asking any of the myriad questions that have haunted me for the last two years, I dip my spoon into the ice cream. “The waitressing is working out?”
    “The money’s not great yet, but it will be better when I take over nights in a month or two. And I’ve got a longer-term plan in the works. I’m feeling pretty good about things, actually. You?”
    I nod as I lick my spoon. “It’s way different from home. I miss Lo. But I think it will be good. Like I said, I can get a real job here and—”
    “I thought we agreed you’re starting school next week,” she cuts in, all concerned mother.
    I grab a handful of hair. “Why?”
    “Because you’re sixteen, Delilah! It’s the law. We don’t need the local authorities deciding you’re truant and snooping into our business.”
    I blow out a sigh. “Fine. But I’m still getting a job. I’ll find something after school.”
    She nods, relieved. “As long as you still have time to study. School first.”
    “Fine,” I repeat, even though the idea is about as appealing as vomit on toast.
    “Have you met Vicky?” she asks me, settling deeper into the cushions and pulling her legs back up now that it’s settled.
    “Who’s Vicky?”
    “Bran’s mom. She owns the bar, but she’s probably gone by the time you get there.”
    “Must be. I haven’t met her.”
    “And Bran?” she asks.
    I can tell she’s still looking at me and I keep my eyes on the TV, because at Bran’s name, I’m suddenly hot all over. “What about him?”
    “He’s sort of intimidating, but he’s a really great guy.”
    “He seems okay,” I say, working to keep my tone indifferent.
    She gouges out a huge hunk of ice cream.