“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? It’s nearly two weeks!”

So her temper’s up. Although it’s not just temper. She’s nervous. She was never nervous of me when I was in bully mode.

“Do you still want to go to Tim Hortons?” I say.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well ... because I’m a jerk?”

“I was worried about you!”

AQ has me by the throat. “I was afraid you’d be sorry you made a date with me. And sorrier for telling me about Buddy.”

“No and no. But it was a big deal talking about Buddy. Then you just walked away—and stayed away—as though nothing happened.”

“I’m sorry.” I really am. Another insight zaps me between the eyes. What I do matters to Tully.

She bends down to pick a dandelion and begins shredding the petals. “Okay,” she says.

“Rolf thinks the world of you. Told me so.”

Her hands grow still. “I love my dad.”

“You’re lucky. I mean, I know it was hard, early on, but now you’re safe. You and your mom.”

“You will be too,” she says fiercely.

“Docker knows about Floyd.”

“Docker would lay charges if anything happened.”

I pick a dandelion too. The broken ends of the stem curl up. “I wanted to tell Rolf the truth. But I chickened out.”

“You’ll tell him. Or Mom. Sooner or later.”

I look at her helplessly. “I’m scared to death of Floyd.”

“You’d be a fool not to be.”

“Dunno if I can fight him. I’m such a coward, Tully.”

“Would you have called my mom a coward when Buddy was six feet tall, built like a wrestler, and mean to the core?”

“Um ... no.”

“You’re not a coward to be scared of Floyd. You’re smart.”

“You really mean that?”

“How old were you when he started hitting you?” she says.

“Six.”

“Of course I mean it!”

I shuffle my feet in the grass. “I thought the world would come to an end if I ever talked about Floyd.”

“Guess what? The garage is still standing, the house is still Sunshine Yellow, and I bet Caramel and Cassie are snoring on the kitchen floor.”

I lean forward and kiss her on the cheek. So quick I barely feel her skin—and then it’s over.

She says, “Let’s not wait for school to start before we go to Tim Hortons. We could meet in town some day. I landed another babysitting job, with tourists staying at Seaview Cottages.”

“Yeah,” I say, my smile just about splitting my face in two, “let’s do that. And I plan on speaking to Della about the lawn. I’ll ask her if she’s okay with you doing it.”

“We could divide it up. You one week, me the next.” Then she reaches up, kisses me on the mouth, and steps back. “We better go in,” she says.