Clay walks over and sits on the floor next to me. He slips the book in my hand.

“Ro … me … o and—What’s this?” I ask, pointing to the last word.

“Romeo and Juliet. It’s a love story. It’s a dang tough one, too. It’s written in this funky English. Been working on it for six months.”

I run my fingers over the worn paper binding. The picture on the front is a man and woman enfolded in an embrace. With Clay sitting this close to me, the image brings a blush up to my own cheeks.

“Why’d you get embarrassed?” I lift my eyes to his face. There are two red ovals on the bridge of his nose where the glasses were perched.

He shrugs. “My pa’s got no love for book learnin’. Used to tease the hell outta me if he found me reading. Don’t know why I like it so much. It’s just …” He pauses, thinking. “It takes me somewhere else for a while, you know?”

I hand him the book. “Anywhere but here,” I say quietly.

For a moment we sit in silence. I can feel his body next to me purring like an engine, thrumming, giving off heat. He leans over, picks up a can and slides it to me. “Ethan said you’d like fruit cocktail, so we opened that one.” Clay hands me a spoon. The fruit tastes deliciously sweet in my mouth. I roll the little chunks of peach or pear around on my tongue. For a while it helps take my mind off Clay’s even breathing, his increasingly familiar scent. I must smell like gasoline and body odor. What I wouldn’t give to smell like meadow flowers just once when he’s around.

“Must be hard for you,” he says quietly.

I turn to him, trying to read his expression in the dark. “What do you mean?”

He nods toward my little brother. “I know how much I care about the little bugger and he’s not even mine. Must be hard to worry about him every minute of every day. Bet it wears on you.” He turns and gives me that reassuring smile I’ve come to depend on.

God, how can he be so good when I’m so awful? My eyes fall over the soft curves of his cheeks, the hard line of his jaw, the dark lashes around his comforting eyes.

He smiles at Ethan’s sleeping form, the curled dark shadow in the corner. “Hell of a kid to go through what he did and still want to play cards with me.”