Willpower was a tricky bitch.

Out of the gate, you felt strong in your resolution. Confident. Insolent, even.

You could so absolutely do this.

No question.

It was in the bag.

Easy-peasy.

Whether you had committed to quitting smoking or cutting your calories in half or giving up the bottle, that first moment you made that promise to yourself?

You were almost on a high. On top of the world. A champion.

Your only focus was why you should do it and why it would benefit you and the people around you.

No thought given to how hard it was actually going to be.

You hadn’t considered that when you woke up in the morning, it’d be the first thing on your mind or that it’d track you through the day. No deliberation of the niggling sensation at the back of your brain, constantly whispering that you were missing something.

And you definitely hadn’t given thought to the reality that when you tried to go to sleep at night, it’d be the only thing you could see when you closed your eyes.

But I did it.

I drove past that little shop every damned day for nearly two weeks and barely gave it a glance. And by the time I passed by it in the evening, I’d gun the accelerator, flying right on by, jaw rigid and teeth clenched, refusing to look that way.

Not allowing myself to wonder if she was still behind the doors. If she was smiling. If Evan was with her.

When I crawled in bed at night, I pretended she wasn’t the only thing I could see. Pretended I didn’t wonder if she was wet and thinking of me.

It was for the best.

It was stupid to even want her, anyway. It wasn’t like I was going to make something with her and that kid. A life like they deserved.

If I could even if I wanted to.

Just being around them had dredged up too many memories. Made me remember, and remembering fucking hurt. Gut told me if I got any deeper into Hope, any deeper into Evan, it just might ruin me.

So, I shoved that little obsession aside, buried it with the flickers of worry that kept flaring up when I thought of her shit-pile of a soon-to-be ex-husband, who was probably still giving her a hard time.

Restrained myself from looking him up so I could pay him a little visit.

None of my concern.

Right?

Right.

And then . . .

Then there was this little girl.

Five years old.

Tiffany.

Fucking adorable, black curly hair that was all kinds of wild around her chubby face.

She’d returned for her second visit with me, being worked up for intermittent high fevers that we couldn’t pin down the cause of.

The whole time, she’d been completely cooperative, smiling, following my requests.

In hindsight, maybe she’d been a little too cooperative.

Because the second we’d finished, she’d looked up at me with wide, hopeful eyes and told me she’d been a good girl during her examination and she wanted to know where her lollipop was.

Of course, she did.

With my mouth flopping all over the place, I’d finally managed to tell her I’d run out.

You’d think I had single-handedly taken down the entire Disney franchise.

That’d been my breaking point.

At least I was blaming it on that.

I scrubbed a hand over my face and looked to the Alabama sky, so blue with the day. “You’re an idiot,” I mumbled beneath my breath before I spun on my heel and moved the rest of the way down the sidewalk.

I didn’t hesitate at the door. I pulled it open and stepped inside.

Hoping I was making the right choice.

But I had no idea what else to do.

The bell chimed above when I stepped into the small shop. The second she saw me, Jenna grinned like she’d won the lottery.

But she wasn’t who held my attention.

It was Hope whose mossy gaze snapped up to meet mine when she felt my presence, those full lips parting in surprise.

Hope.

Fucking Hope.

The air got thick, and I felt a little dizzy while I was standing there just inside the doorway, looking at this girl who had to be the best thing I’d ever seen.

Red hair twisted into a loose braid and pulled over one shoulder, pieces falling out everywhere, those eyes so damned green. And she was wearing this floral dress that did funny things to me, twisting me up in knots of need.

Fuck.

I wanted her.

I wanted her so damned bad I could taste it.

“Kale.”

“Hey,” I said, taking one step in from the door, feeling flustered and hot. So unlike me, but this girl had me outside of myself. My attention darted to the spot where the lollipops had been, a bunch of coffee mugs filling the space. “I’m out.”

Hope frowned in confusion. “What?”

“I need more,” I stammered.

Her frown deepened.

Brilliant.

If only Ollie could see me, he’d be giving me shit for the rest of my life.

I drew a circle in the air with my index fingers, starting at the top and meeting at the bottom.

She looked at me like she was concerned for my sanity.

Yeah.

Me, too.

“The lollipops. I’m out of the lollipops,” I finally managed.

“Oh.” Disappointment or surprise, I wasn’t sure, but she blinked like she was rearranging the idea of why I was there around in her brain.

I guessed maybe I should have been doing that, too. Too bad all I could think about right then was stalking around the counter and propping her on it.

Kissing her and touching her and sinking inside.

All the reasons why I couldn’t slammed against the visions.

Cold, stark lights. That fucking flat line.

My heart shivered in my chest, and then I was thinking about why this was bad for her, too. The fact she was fucking terrified of whatever that dickhead was demanding of her.

I’d seen it. Written all over her when she’d made that admission in the examination room. When she’d told me what she had to lose, which was so much more than I could even comprehend or imagine. Knew I wasn’t even close to understanding what she was going through.

The thought of that sent a fresh round of rage rushing through me.

I had this intrinsic need to know what that asshole was demanding of her, of Evan, all the while I was contending with all these images of what their lives might have been like when he was in them. If it was good or bad. If she missed him or was glad he was gone.

If he’d hurt them.

My nerves zapped with the threat of rage.

Fuck. I couldn’t even tolerate the thought.

She smoothed her hands over her apron nervously. “I’m still out. I was planning to make some over the weekend at the house. If you want to come back on Monday, I’ll have them ready for you to pick up.”

Right then, the swinging door to the kitchen swung open and Evan came bounding out.

Joy.

Life.

Hope.

It swirled through the air. Filling the space.

Radiating and vibrating and confusing.

It made it difficult for me to stand, the solid ground suddenly unsteady, those memories trying to press themselves into the forefront.

His entire face lit up when he saw me, and he pushed his glasses farther up his nose with both his hands like he was making sure it was really me he was seeing.

God, the kid looked like the cutest little bug when he blinked at me from behind the thick lenses.

Heart squeezing in a fist, I lifted a hand to wave at him.

HI, he gestured. Now that I could read.

He gestured a bunch more while he mouthed, Dr. Bryant.

All of a sudden, he darted back into the kitchen, the door swinging behind him. In a flash, he was bursting back through, holding a big spiral-bound notebook and a marker. He went straight to the counter and started writing on the notebook.

He held it up.

Hope fidgeted beside him, her expression nearly unreadable because it said too much.

Why are you really here?

You’re only making this harder.

I wish things were different.

Stay.

Carefully, I edged across the space, eyeing Hope as that energy lit between us. That insane attraction I felt when we neared.

Flares.

Fire.

Flames.

I wanted to lick her up and down. Touch her and fuck her and maybe hold her afterward.

That right there was the reason I should hightail it out the door.

Among a million others.

Instead, I accepted the marker Evan offered.

His attention dropped to read it and then he looked back up at me.

I swore the magnitude of his smile knocked me back a step.

REALLY? he gestured. I got that, too.

“Really,” I said.

He went back to writing.

I rubbed at my chest, having to wonder exactly what it was this kid was doing to mine.

Hope cleared her throat and touched his shoulder to get his attention. Apparently, she’d been watching the interaction over his shoulder. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. The kitchen is already going to be pretty crowded with the three of us.”

She didn’t even sign. She was talking to me. Expecting her son to pick up on what she was saying.

“That’s okay. I get it.”

Jenna made a dramatic gasping sound. Her phone was held out in front of her, her eyes wide in an exaggerated way. “Oh goodness, Harley Hope, I am so sorry . . .”

Harley Hope.

A smile edged my mouth at her full name, and I tucked away that information for another day.

Jenna continued without pausing, “But I just got word Maw-Maw needs her hair done up real nice for bingo tonight, and I’m not going to be able to help like I promised. Apparently, there’s a man she has her sights set on. I’m afraid I’m going to have to bail. I feel so bad.”

Hope shot her a look that promised she was going to be sorry before saying, “Evan and I can handle it. No worries.”

Jenna’s brow twisted in horror. “Are you sure? That is a lot of work.”

“Completely sure. We have all weekend.”

“Oh, I have a good idea!” Jenna turned her gaze on me, forged innocence written all over her face. “Why don’t you help? You’re the one who needs them, after all. Plus, Hope here is gonna have all these supplies she needs to carry in, and they’re super heavy, and she’s had a really long day here at the shop. It might be nice for her to have a big, strapping man help her out.”

Could the girl be more obvious?

She shot me an exaggerated wink.

Apparently, she could.

Hope hissed something under her breath and smacked Jenna’s hip. Clearly, she thought I couldn’t see it, so I stood there trying not to laugh.

But it was Evan who was suddenly jumping up and down and waving his arms, the nod of his head about as overdramatic as the ridiculous story Jenna had just told.

That was what nailed me to the spot.

The little lip-reader.

Had the feeling he always knew more than people gave him credit for.

I rubbed a hand over my mouth.

Not knowing what to say.

Because there was Evan basically begging me to, and Hope begging me with her eyes to stay away.

I glanced around at all three faces that were waiting for me to respond.

It didn’t seem all that hard to figure out.

How could devoting a Friday night to helping out a single mom ever be considered bad?

I had been the one who walked through the door, asking for the favor. The one who’d come here after I’d committed to stay away and put Hope on the spot, telling her the kids needed more candy.

I’d lend a hand. Help out. Put a smile on the kid’s face and make a fat contribution to their charity when we finished.

That was it.

Nothing more.

Easy-peasy.

Because just like that willpower?

Right then, I was riding a high.

Resolved.

Confident.

I could do this . . . said every addict trying to give up a vice.