Always Carry a Silver Cross

Chapter 1

Guilt stalked Selene through aisles packed with king-size candy bars and preservative-filled snacks, still nipping at her heels when she reached a refrigerated case and stared at the rows of cans and bottles.

She didn’t need caffeine to stay alert, despite the excuse she’d made to herself for this stop.

That reason would have made sense two hours ago, but not at a convenience store just past the sign welcoming Selene, and anyone else who happened to take that particular county highway, to Avondale, California.

This small town, nestled in an idyllic valley six hours north of Los Angeles, wasn’t a logical rest stop to break up her long drive. She’d reached her destination . . . almost. Another few miles and she’d pull into the driveway of Emma and Allison Bancroft’s house.

Selene’s throat tightened as she watched her eyes become too shiny in the muddled reflection cast by the glass case. She’d promised herself she was done crying. That Emma wouldn’t want her to keep suffering the loss. But Selene had broken that promise too many times to count.

Only Allie’s house now, she reminded herself. Allie’s. And mine.

Stomping out the flare of grief, Selene pulled open the door and shivered at the blast of cold air that hit her.

Gooseflesh rose on her arms, a welcome distraction from the ravaging sorrow that threatened whenever she thought of Emma.

Selene’s best friend had died six months ago, but her loss remained a fresh, raw wound.

That was the reason Selene had stopped. To delay the inevitable.

Despite all their discussions of what would be best for Allie’s future, and realizing that meant returning to the place that felt like home to the grieving girl, the finality of moving to Avondale was what cemented the truth that Emma was gone.

Forever. And Selene was faced with the impossible task of stepping into Emma’s place in Allie’s life. It wouldn’t be easy for either of them.

But there was no putting it off any longer. She was here, and Allie was sitting in the car, waiting for Selene to drive those last few miles to the house.

To their home.

Selene grabbed an iced cappuccino and started toward the counter, but stopped, reconsidering. She’d been on edge the entire drive from Los Angeles, growing more tense the closer she came to Avondale. Hammering her already frayed nerves with espresso and sugar wasn’t a good call.

Irritated with herself, Selene spun around and opened the case again. She shoved the cappuccino into its place, but in her haste the bottle didn’t make it all the way into the slot. Instead, it slipped through her fingers and smashed onto the floor.

“Goddammit!”

A puddle of beige liquid punctuated by glints of glass shards spread around her feet.

You wanted a delay, Selene, she grumbled inwardly as she crouched and made a futile attempt to dam the flow of coffee. Congratulations. You got it.

“You don’t need to do that, ma’am.”

Selene yelped, lost her balance, and landed on her ass. Her jeans were instantly infused with frigid cappuccino. Wonderful.

When she’d entered the store, she’d spared a glance and a polite nod in the direction of the counter, catching sight of a teenage boy whose dark, longish hair flopped over his eyes.

In her frustration with her clumsiness, she hadn’t heard him approach.

But there he was, mop in hand, frowning down at her.

“I’m so sorry.” Selene grimaced. “I should have been more careful.”

The young clerk offered her a tight-lipped smile. “It’s no trouble.”

With a reluctant nod, Selene pushed herself off the floor. And of course she planted her hand right on top of one of the glass shards.

“What the . . . ow!”

She wrapped her fingers around the cut on her left hand. It wasn’t deep, but wow, capillaries really liked to bleed.

The clerk had gone very still . . . and yikes . . . very pale.

Oh god. He looks like he’s going to pass out. Please, please don’t pass out, kid.

He didn’t pass out.

While he stared at the blood seeping from beneath her fingers, he said, “I’ll . . . just . . . get you a Band-Aid.”

He turned and in odd, stilted steps went through the employees-only door at the back of the store while Selene drowned in embarrassment and cursed herself for making this stop. Her procrastination punished with a damp ass that reeked of coffee and a sliced palm that smarted like a son of a bitch.

Less than a minute later, the clerk was back and brandishing a butterfly Band-Aid and some sterile gauze.

“Thank you.” Selene pulled her fingers away from the cut and was rewarded with a fresh gush of bright-red blood.

The clerk inhaled sharply and pressed the gauze to the wound. Selene couldn’t stop herself from hissing at the pain.

“Sorry,” the clerk said. “Just thought I should stop the bleeding.”

“It’s okay,” Selene replied. “Really. Thank you.”

Despite his trembling hands, he applied the Band-Aid with care, offering her a timid smile when it was secured.

“All good?” he asked.

“Yes.” Selene pulled her hand from his, then frowned. “Ugh. Now you’ve got blood all over your hand.”

“It’s no problem,” he replied quickly, not bothering to look at his hand to confirm her words. “I’ll just wash ’em after I clean this up.”

Selene glanced at the mess on the floor. “I hate that I made extra work for you.”

He laughed, but it was a tense sound. “Keeps things interesting. You can go ahead and take another bottle, then be on your way.”

“Oh.” Selene shook her head. “No. I’m okay, but let me pay you for the broken one.”

“No, ma’am.” There was that closed-lip smile again. “No charge.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I won’t,” he told her. “My, uh . . . dad . . . owns the store. Don’t worry about it.”

Selene offered him a sympathetic smile. “Is that why you get the shift that sucks?”

She’d meant it as a jest but found herself frowning. He looked young enough to be in high school. It was after eleven. Awfully late for a kid to work on a school night.

“Yeah.” He bobbed his head. “I guess.”

Glancing at the front door, he added, “You probably have somewhere to be. I don’t want to keep you.”

“Are you sure I can’t help?”

“I’m sure,” he said quickly. “I hope you have a good night.”

“Um, thanks?” Selene decided the best thing to do at this point was get out of his way. “I appreciate the first aid.”

“Yep.”

With a brief wave, Selene showed herself out of the store. She was halfway to her car when she realized her ass was still soaked with coffee and she should grab some paper towels from the bathroom to do what she could to keep the driver’s seat dry.

Huffing out a breath, Selene marched back to the store. She grabbed the door handle . . . and froze. The teenage clerk was in her line of sight, still standing in front of the refrigerated case. He was . . . no, he wasn’t . . . yeah, he was . . . licking his hand.

Her stomach churned. That wasn’t the hand she’d bled all over, was it?

As quickly as the idea jumped into her mind, she dismissed it. No way. That was just too gross. He probably got coffee on himself when he was cleaning up. Still super gross. But gross was pretty much normal for teen boys, right?

Determined to scrub the image of that kid’s tongue swabbing up her blood from her mind, Selene pivoted back to the parking lot. She could deal with a wet, coffee-smelling seat more readily than store clerks with zero hygiene boundaries.

Ugh. Poor Allie. That’s her dating pool right there.

The girl in question waited in the passenger seat, her face washed by the bluish light of the phone screen she was bent over. Her thumbs flew across the digital keyboard.

Selene had opinions about kids and too much screen time, opinions backed up by articles she’d read, but given all Allie had been through, it hardly seemed fair to limit her ability to message the friends she’d been missing the past several months.

When Selene opened the car door, Allie’s head jerked up and she flipped the phone over to hide the screen.

“Everything good?” Allie asked.

“Good enough,” Selene replied, starting the car.

As she pulled out of the parking lot, Allie’s nose wrinkled. “Why do you smell like Frappuccino?”