Free Suffer Love by Ashley Herring Blake

. . . it’s just . . . my parents are going through a hard time. I guess it would be nice to have someone else there with me. Someone who’s not them, you know?”
    I slide my gaze to him, but he’s focused on his plate, blinking rapidly and rubbing at his forehead. “Why aren’t you close with your dad anymore?”
    I swallow hard. My lower lip feels unsteady, so I press my teeth over it until it stills. “He just . . . isn’t who I thought he was. And I can’t seem to get over it.”
    God. My voice sounds so small and pathetic. Weak.
    â€œI’m sorry,” I say a little too loudly, sitting up on my stool. “I don’t know why I’m talking about this.” I barely know this guy. I hardly talk about my parents to Kat, much less a ballplayer who’s probably only interested in whether my bra’s clasp is in the front or the back.
    But from the way he keeps moving the salt shaker in front of the pepper shaker and back again, his eyes a little glazed on the black and white ceramic, it doesn’t look like my bra is what’s on his mind at all.
    â€œNo, it’s fine.” He finally knocks over the salt, and white granules skitter over the counter. “I get it. When things get too heavy, Livy and I always head out to the movies. We spend all day theater hopping and making ourselves sick on popcorn and candy.”
    â€œThat sounds like a good distraction.”
    â€œYeah.” He sweeps up the salt and tosses it in the sink. “The best is when we get a slasher movie back-to-back with some Disney flick or cheesy romantic comedy.”
    â€œSort of like a visual yin and yang?”
    â€œExactly. And Livy is hilarious to watch rom-coms with. She eviscerates them. The acting, the plot, the saccharine endings. It’s classic.”
    I laugh. “I think Livy and I might have a lot in common.”
    His smiles fades a little, but he finally looks at me. “Maybe you could come with us next time. Get your mind off things.” He blinks and steps back a little. I feel the unmistakable warmth of blood seeping into my cheeks. To cool them, I take a too-large gulp of Coke and half of it slides down the wrong tube, bubbles searing my nose.
    Sam raises his brows in concern as I proceed to cough up a lung. He hands me a bottle of water and I take a few sips while he moves around the kitchen, unpacking only half a box before moving on to another. Outside the window over the sink, a female robin lands and pecks at the sill.
    â€œOh, shit.” Sam’s voice pulls my eyes from the window. Off the kitchen, an automatic garage door rattles and creaks. Sam’s face is completely white.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” I slip off the barstool, a pinch in my stomach. “Is that your mom?”
    He hangs a hand on the back of his neck and shakes his head at the ceiling. “Yeah, and you need to go now.”

Chapter Eight
Sam
    I circle the island and grab her arm, all but dragging her from the kitchen toward the front door.
    Shit, shit, shit.
    It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She wasn’t supposed to look at me like that and feel like that, all smushed up against my arm, and talk about her dad like he broke her heart into a million bloody pieces. I sure as hell wasn’t supposed to invite her to the goddamn movies.
    I spent the day avoiding her and distracting myself with Josh and couple other guys from the baseball team, Matt Pavers and Noah Harrington. Even though Josh spent the entire lunch block staring at a cheerleader with a pixie cut, my new friends kept me occupied, reliably steering clear of topics other than boobs, asses, and PlayStation. During English, I slouched down in my desk and texted with Ajay the entire period just to keep myself from looking at Hadley. So beyond double-checking that Livy wouldn’t be home until after six, I didn’t have much time to think about what a sick