in agony from where Bev kicked me, but what hurts more is the open gash in my heart from losing that violin. In a weird way, it felt like my mother bought it, like it was a gift from her to me. I know that's stupid. She never even gave me that kind of stuff when she was around, but maybe I'm not as impervious to childish dreams as I thought.

I admit, I feel better now though. When Elliot hugged me, I had never felt so safe and secure. Now warmth radiates from the plates of food lining the dinner table: stuffed turkey, scalloped potatoes, and Yorkshire puddings. And once again, I'm fuzzy inside. It's weird, but... this is nice.

"This gravy recipe is one of my highest rated," Elizabeth says. "So I hope you all enjoy it."

"Everything smells great, Mom," Elliot says.

Charlotte and her friend, Maddy, keep snickering at me. Then there's Adam; when he talks to me, I can't help but avoid eye-contact, paranoid about the fact that he's a cop. It's easier to focus on Ollie's two-year-old kid, Ana. Apparently he had her when he was eighteen. She blinks at me like I'm the most interesting thing in the world as Elliot bounces her on his lap and eats over her head, careful not to drop anything on her.

To say the food's delicious is an understatement. Elliot's mom is a professional chef, and even has her own cooking show called Elizabeth on a local station. I feel like I'm in a five-star restaurant; this food is even better than the pizza we had last time. So I have seconds, then thirds, but when not even Elliot has fourths, I call it quits. I'm already stuffed as Elizabeth brings out dessert, and everyone makes room on the table for trays of cookies shaped like snowmen and Santa Claus. On one plate, a pile of white balls sit in a perfect mound. Curious, I reach for those.

"Oh, El made those ones," Elizabeth says.

Elliot pretends he doesn't hear and feeds the toddler a spoonful of mashed potatoes, but his face reddens.

"What are they?" I ask.

Charlotte reaches over the table and snipes one. "Snowball cookies!"

Snowball cookies. The image of Elliot rolling them into balls and dusting them with coconut makes my heart swell.

Beside me, Ollie crams a huge piece of turkey in his mouth. "Cuba's gonna be so sick."

"Wait, you guys are going on vacation?" I ask.

"They all are," Elliot says. "I'm not."

Our eyes lock, and there's that weird tingling feeling again.

"Our flight is first thing in the morning," Elizabeth says. "Since El's not coming—he has too much going on with hockey—we're bringing Maddy along."

"I'm very grateful, Mrs. Wexler," Maddy says.

Everyone keeps talking, but all I can think is that Elliot's going to be here. Alone. He takes out his phone, and moments later, mine vibrates. I subtly check it beneath the table.

I texted Brett about what happened with Bev and Rosie, so he agreed to let me stay at his place for one night, since apparently Slater skipped town again. As soon as dinner ends, Elliot walks me to the door. I can feel his eyes burning a hole in the back of my head, the stupid contents of his text message still on my mind.

Once we're away from his family's ears, I face him on the porch as he leans against the doorway.

"What did you mean by that text, Elliot?"

He checks his shoulder before he whispers, "I meant exactly what I said. My family is gonna be gone for a whole week. If you have nowhere else to go..."

"We barely know each other." I cross my arms. "Are you this friendly with every girl you meet on the street?"

"I didn't meet you on the street though, did I? I met you right in my own backyard."

Even though I like this, I glower and look away. "You know what I mean."

"I know we don't know each other that well, but I'm gonna have this place all to myself."

"Things are complicated with me. I never stay in one place for too long."

"That's okay. You can stay for five minutes or the whole week. No pressure." He pauses. "It's safe here, Lucy."

Snow drifts from the dark sky above us, blotted by the porchlight. Elliot blinks at me with hope.

You're so naive.

But I'm drawn to that naivety. It's like staring into window of a life I could have. A life I want to have, where I have my own home like this one. Maybe I could never cook anything like Elizabeth, but there would be a dinner table. But if Elliot knew about my past, would he even want me to stay with him? I doubt it, but maybe it's okay to pretend, even for a little while. Maybe it's okay for me to like him, and for him to like me.

"Okay then," I say. "But I don't know how long I'll stay."

His face lights up, and it injects me with some strange happiness. I like that I'm able to make his eyes crinkle, like he thinks I'm the greatest thing in the world. I hold back a smile, just as Brett's box Chevy pulls up in front of the house.

"See you tomorrow, Junior," I say and leave. Elliot waits for me to reach Brett's car before he goes back inside.

Brett dials down his music, and I get into the passenger's side. As much as I love Brett, his vibe brings me from the magic of Elliot's house right back down to Earth. We're silent as I buckle my seatbelt.

"Thanks for picking me up," I say.

"No problem. Can't believe those bitches touched you."

"Yeah, it's whatever."

"But you know you can't stay for long, right? Slater could come back anytime."

"I know. Thanks, Brett. It'll be okay tonight though, right?"

"Yeah, he's gone. Last I heard he was driving to Toronto. But like I said, could come back anytime." Brett drives through the suburb, and snowflakes splatter his windshield, only to be swiped by the wipers. "You shouldn't be out by yourself at night, Luce."

"I wanted to come to your place." I blow my bangs from my eyes. "I wish he'd stay out of Godfrey. Is he still..."

Brett's quiet for a moment. "Yeah. Still asks about you. He doesn't suspect I know anything. But Luce, if you're in a tight spot again, just hit up a shelter."

Like hell.

City lights flash through the snow as we drive. I don't want to think about Slater—he can rot for all I care. I want to think about Elliot.

I bite my thumbnail. Maybe this is moving too fast. A couple of weeks ago we'd been total strangers, and now we're ready to sleep in the same house as each other? I mean, that isn't weird, but it's different with Elliot. What if he really is in it for sex? What if I sleep with him and he bails on me? I've never had to worry about this before. No guy has ever made me feel this warm inside, not once, not ever.

Rubbing my knees together, I try to get those images of out my head. It's not right to think about here. These thoughts belong alone in the dark with me, under the covers, where only I decide when and where to be touched. But I don't have a bed or a place to do those things. It's... frustrating.

"Lucy," Brett says.

I snap out of my trance. Brett was trying to talk to me and I didn't even notice.

"Come on." He focuses on the road. "I was serious. What's up with the pretty boy?"

"What about him?"

"He's like magazine, squeaky-clean, Photoshop pretty. What the fuck are you doing?"

"Yeah, he's cute, okay? So what?"

"So, you don't fit with someone like that. Top of the hill, all brick house, Christmas shit everywhere—"

"Okay. I get it, Brett. He's out of my league."

"That's not what I mean. How'd you think Slater would react if he found out you were fucking that guy over him?"

There's a bitter taste in my mouth. "Maybe he should find girls his own age. Elliot's only a year older than me. I should be with a guy like him."

"Whatever, Luce. I couldn't care less who you're using. Just don't bring it home with you."

"I'm not using him."

"Whatever you say."

I press my forehead to the cold window and shut my eyes. The darkness, along with the rumble of the wheels, relaxes me. Today was a good day. I love Brett, but I don't need his negativity. Tomorrow, it won't matter. Tomorrow, things will be different.

Tomorrow, I won't feel alone at night.