And your father? He wasn’t in the picture?

I don’t even remember him.

I see. I’m sorry.

Don’t be. This isn’t about me.

You’re the one who said to get my mind on something else. ;-)

I’m the distraction?

You did tell me you were a good listener.

That’s true. How am I doing so far?

I haven’t called Axel yet. I count that as a success. What do you do for a living?

I work at New Horizons. Maintenance, repair and grounds, he added so she wouldn’t think he had some lofty job or the kind of education his brother, who’d recently become the principal of the new girls’ side of the school, did. While he had no plans to give her the dirtier details of his life, he also wasn’t out to make her think she’d found someone she might be interested in.

New Horizons is that correctional school not too far outside town, right? The one for troubled kids?

Did he tell her he’d been one of those kids? That he’d wound up in a much worse place than a correctional school?

No. This wasn’t about him. This was about her—about helping her get through this rough patch in her life. He could be anyone. Most are good kids who are just a little turned around at the moment.

He happened to glance up while waiting to see if she’d continue the conversation and froze. Atticus was rolling down the sidewalk toward him.

“Shoot,” he muttered under his breath. He often wondered if it was as hard for Atticus to see him as it was for him to see Atticus. If it was, Jada’s brother never gave any indication.

Shoving his phone back in his pocket, Tobias pushed away from the truck. “Hey, man. You’re looking good.”

“Gotta please the ladies,” Atticus joked as they exchanged their usual hand slap, fist bump, half hug.

“You got your eye on someone special these days?”

“No. Too hard to narrow it down,” he joked.

“The women of Silver Springs had better watch out.” Tobias laughed, but this subject made him even more uncomfortable than simply encountering Atticus in his wheelchair. He didn’t know if he’d robbed Atticus of a sex life when he’d robbed him of the ability to walk—and absolutely cringed at the thought that maybe he had.

If only he could take back what he’d done that night…

But he couldn’t. He had to live with it. And that was the greatest punishment there was, far worse than prison. “Did you just leave the store?”

“Yeah. Maya texted me. Wanted me to come down and try her new cookie.”

“Well? What’s the verdict?”

“This one’s pretty damn good.”

“Must be if your mother’s letting her sell it in the store.”