Page 28 of Dotted Lines (Runaway 5)

“Hey.” Karson sat in the main room with a deck of cards spread out in a game of solitaire.

The sight of him playing alone broke my heart.

Karson had been alone a lot this past year. When Londyn had lived here, she’d been his constant companion. Best friends. And though Aria and I were here, it wasn’t the same.

I’d always be grateful to my parents that I’d been born with my best friend. Even on the darkest days, I was never alone. I always had Aria.

“Want to play a game?” I settled across from him on the floor.

“Sure.”

“Here.” I handed him the sandwich. “Dinner.”

“Thanks.” He took it and chomped a huge bite. “Mmm. Peanut butter and honey. I haven’t had this in so long.”

I laughed. “Like a day?”

“Two.” He chewed, a grin forming on his lips.

“What are we playing?” I asked, scooping up the cards.

“You beat me at both gin and poker last time, so a rematch of either would be good.”

“Gin.” I dealt the cards.

He swiped his hands clean after demolishing the sandwich, then picked up his hand. “One of the guys at work bought me beer.”

I blinked, stunned by the admission. “Really?”

“It’s not the first time.”

“Oh.” How had I missed that? “Do you, um . . . drink a lot?”

“Nah. I am not about becoming my mother.”

Right. He’d mentioned once that she’d get really nasty after too many vodkas.

“I brought the six-pack home with me. Want one?”

“Um . . .” Why did this feel like breaking the rules? Because it was. Despite my current living situation and the fact that we were basically trespassing, I still tried to follow the rules. Even in the beginning when we hadn’t been able to get good jobs, Aria and I had never stolen food like he did. “I’ve never had a drink before.”

“You don’t have to.” Karson stretched behind him, reaching past the partition to his room. Then he lifted the six-pack and set it down at his side.

The cans were white with red letters. The tops were a shade of brassy gold. Karson plucked one from the plastic rings and the top hissed as he popped it.

“I guess . . . I’ll try it.” My voice cracked a little with the thrill.

He handed over the can, then opened his own to raise in the air. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” I tipped the can to my lips and sipped. And gagged. “Gross.”

He chuckled, swallowing his own gulp. “It’s different.”

“If different and horrible mean the same thing, then yes, it’s different.”

The smile that stretched across Karson’s face was worth the nasty beer. His laugh boomed through the tent, drowning the fears I’d had of losing him.

“You haven’t smiled much lately,” I said.