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ourselves to include Donald in our dreams, that we'd spent even one second giving him the power to dash our hopes. And most of all, that Marlo had given something precious to a loser who didn't deserve it.
    Marlo had told me the story of Donald that night when she'd come into our trailer, muddy, shivering, and defeated. She'd cried in my arms and I'd cried, too, for her, for me, for dashed dreams, for the pain of loneliness, and the deep hope that someone would come along and save us. And the fact that no one ever did. Of course, we both should have known better after what happened to our mama, but I guessed the promise of love is about the strongest pull there is. I didn't blame Marlo. Our father had been the first one to teach us that men were ultimately selfish and uncaring and would put themselves before anyone else, regardless of who depended on them. And even still, for me, it was so hard not to dream that somewhere out there, there was someone strong and gallant who would dance with me under a starlit sky and call me his beloved—and mean it.
    "Hey."
    I let out a small scream and jumped back, dropping one of my bags, my groceries rolling out onto the ground. When I looked up, it was Kyland. "This is funny to you, isn't it?" I asked.
    He held his hands up in a surrender gesture. "Sorry, sorry. I swear, this really is a coincidence. I was walking back from Evansly. I saw you come out of Rusty's." He bent down, picked up my bag of groceries, and then gestured for me to give him the other one. I almost resisted, but then I decided he should at the very least carry my bags after giving me a mini heart attack for the third time in a week.
    "Hmm, likely story," I said, cocking an eyebrow.
    He grinned when I handed the bag over and some sort of strange tickling feeling moved through my ribcage. I frowned.
    "Still holding strong, huh?"
    "It's been quite the effort, let me tell you," I said.
    He laughed and my stupid heart flipped. Evidently I was kind of bad at this swearing off men thing—a few smiles and I had a full-blown crush. Truthfully, he hadn't even worked that hard to get me to this point. How completely annoying.
    "How's the ever-charming Rusty?" he asked after a minute, moving his head backward to indicate the store.
    "Rusty wasn't there. Dusty was."
    "Oh, well how's Dusty? In-bred as usual?"
    I laughed, but sucked it back in. "That's mean." I paused. "Dusty, she's all right."
    He chuckled. "I know. I'm just kidding. I mean . . . mostly." We walked in silence for a few minutes.
    I looked to my left when I heard a car engine approach and watched as a black Mercedes drove slowly by. I averted my eyes quickly, turning my head away and toward Kyland. He furrowed his brow. "You know Edward Kearney?" he asked.
    I kept looking at him until I heard the car drive past us. I shook my head. "No. Not really," I said, blushing slightly as I watched the back of his car move away—the car that cost more than the yearly salary of three miners. Kyland didn't need to know my family's dirty laundry. I wondered what Edward Kearney was doing driving through this town, though—there was nothing here that would interest him. I should know.
    "They found all kinds of safety infractions at the old mine," Kyland said, his eyes still on the back of the car. "After the collapse, Tyton Coal paid a fine. A fine ," he repeated bitterly.
    "I know," I said. "I heard that." I couldn't blame him for being bitter about that. He'd lost so much. We walked without speaking for a while, the birdsong in the trees ringing out around us, filling our silence. After a few minutes, the mood seemed to lift, Kyland's shoulders relaxing.
    As we were about to approach the trail that led to the cliff where Kyland had followed me a few days before, he said, "The sun's about to set. Should we catch the show, Princess?" He winked and my hormones went a little wonky.
    I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. "Well . . . I was going home to soak in our multi-jet