Tears clogged her throat again, and when she saw he was serious about it, she reached out and grabbed his hands. Big hands, scarred over the knuckles from fights; gentle hands, too, when it counted. Hands she loved, especially when, like now, they rose up and touched her burning cheeks, cradled them in coolness. His thumbs traced her cheekbones softly, and he bent closer to whisper, ‘I am so sorry, Claire. Please. Please don’t go away.’

‘I—’ She closed her eyes because she felt dizzy, pulled by the force of his wanting, and even a deep breath didn’t set that right. ‘Shane, I have to go. I have to. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you, or that I won’t come back.’ She opened her eyes and met his fierce, desperate gaze. ‘I said I’d marry you someday. I still mean it, if you mean it.’

That woke an equally fierce grin. ‘Oh, I mean it. I’d do it tomorrow if—’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘But I can’t. Not yet.’

He let go of her, but he didn’t step back; he took her hands and raised them to his lips to kiss them, one at a time. She shivered at the heat of his lips, and the longing on his face that he didn’t give a voice.

‘If you need me …’ he said, and then stopped himself with a bitter little smile. ‘But you probably won’t.’

She silently held up her cell phone. ‘Speed dial.’

‘Call me today,’ he said. ‘Call me every day.’

‘I will,’ she promised. ‘Shane—’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘Look, I hate goodbyes, too. But sometimes, we need them just to survive.’

He meant that, and it left her wordless and stunned, and all she could think to do was kiss him one more time, gently. It was a promise, and she meant it with everything in her heart and soul.

And then she walked over to where her suitcases lay, and helped her dad load them into the back of the minivan. Shane moved to help but she discouraged that with a shake of her head; she needed to do this herself. She was afraid she’d break down and run back home to Morganville, to the house they all shared, if she didn’t go now, on her own.

It didn’t take long to change her life. Ten minutes, maybe. With the morning sun washing golden over the billboard, over Shane standing with his arm around Eve next to the hearse, with Michael safely behind tinting in the back, she tossed her backpack in, closed the door, and waved. They waved back.

And then somehow she was in the passenger seat, buckled in, though she didn’t remember doing it, and the minivan was accelerating north, away from Morganville.

Away from everything she’d left behind.