Dragging my tired butt out of bed, I head to the bathroom.

The house is quiet. Casey and Dad must still be sleeping.

Showered, teeth brushed, hair tied into a ponytail, and dressed in my work uniform, I’m ready to go half an hour later.

I head out into our tiny kitchen, which overlooks our tiny living room.

Dad’s in there with Casey.

She’s watching cartoons while eating breakfast. Typical seven-year-old. You wouldn’t know, aside from her short hair, that she only finished having radiotherapy six months ago. She only lost hair in a patch on the part of her brain they were treating. But she said she looked stupid with long hair and a bald patch, so she had me take her to the hair salon to cut it all off.

Casey had an ependymoma, grade II, brain tumor. And she’s the bravest kid I have the privilege to know and love.

The tumor was discovered ten months ago, only two years after we’d lost Mom.

Out shopping for my birthday presents, my parents had gotten into a car accident while I was in school and Casey was in preschool. A truck driver had a heart attack behind the wheel, lost control, and careened through the midsection, straight into my parents’ car.

Mom was killed instantly. Dad survived, barely.

Casey and I had to go into foster care while Dad recovered in the hospital, as we had no other family to take care of us. Our grandparents on both sides had died before we were born.

Dad had taken some pretty severe trauma to the head, which affected his short-term memory, and he lost use of his right arm.

He can never work again.

My dad had been an accountant. We’d had a great life. We weren’t rich, but we weren’t poor either.

When Dad had to quit work, it was tough. Fortunately, his old job covered his medical bills. But we still had a mortgage to pay, and the compensation he’d received from the accident wasn’t going to last forever.

Then, Casey got sick, and things got worse, substantially worse.

Casey had been having headaches. Our doctor checked her over, and had referred her to see an ophthalmologist. Before she even went to the appointment, she collapsed at school. They rushed her to the hospital, and that was when they discovered the tumor on her brain.

She had surgery where they removed as much of the tumor as they could. Then, she began radiotherapy four weeks later. What was left of the tumor after surgery shrank to nothing with the radiation therapy. The cancer was gone, and the doctor said her physical signs were well. So, she was going to be fine.

But we were left with big medical bills. After Dad had left his job, he didn’t take out private healthcare. And surgery and radiation therapy didn’t come cheap. So, we had to sell the house and downsize to a three-bedroom rent-controlled apartment on Carbon Canyon Road. The money from the sale of our old house and the compensation that Dad received from the car accident paid off Casey’s hospital bills.

Dad’s disability checks as well as the money I bring in from working at Grady’s are what keeps us afloat. But it’s not enough. I work as much as I can at Grady’s, taking on extra shifts when they come up, like what I’ve been doing this week. But I will have to go to part-time hours once school starts back up, and when I graduate, I’ll work for Grady full-time until I can find something that pays more.

I would quit school now and work full-time, but Dad won’t let me. It kills him that I go out to work now. He wants me to be a normal teenager, enjoying summers at the beach with friends. But I told him that’s just not the way it’s supposed to be for me at the moment. So, he’s given up fighting me on it.

I get a Pop-Tart and warm it in the toaster.

Grabbing my bag, I check to make sure my sketchpad and pen are in there.

I go into the living room.

“I’m going to work.” I lean over and kiss Dad on the top of his head.

“You got a hug for me, Case?”

She gets up with a beautiful big smile on her face. “Have a good day at work.”

“I’ll try to. Love you, Case.” I give her a big squeeze before letting go.

I head out the door and do the ten-minute walk to the bus stop. I’m only waiting a few minutes before it pulls up, and I jump on to take a seat.

I pull my sketchpad out of my bag and continue working on a new sketch I’ve had stuck in my head since yesterday.

Before I know it, the bus is pulling up to my stop. I get off and make my way to the store. Grady is just opening up as I arrive.

“Morning, Evie Girl,” he says. Opening the door, he lets me through first.

“Hey, Grady. You want some coffee?”

“You see? This is why I hired you. Because you know just what people want at the exact right time.”

“It’s a gift.” I smile at him.

“Damn good gift to have.” He chuckles. “It’ll take you far in this world.”

I let out a laugh. “If only that was the truth. I’ll make us that coffee.”

The day is dragging like hell, and my days never drag here. There’s always something to do. We’re always busy with customers, or we have new stock coming in. The place is always buzzing.

Today hasn’t been any different. I’ve been nonstop busy, but that hasn’t stopped the clock from slowing down.

I can only put it down to one thing. I want it to be five p.m.

At five p.m., I’ll get to go to the beach, and I’ll get to see Adam.

I’ve turned into one of those girls who go all dreamy-eyed over a boy.

Do I walk up to his beach house or just go straight to my rock?

I mean, he’s usually out there when I’m walking along the beach.

I guess if he’s there, I can go over and say hi.

And if he’s not, I’ll just go to my rock and wait for him to come over.

What if he doesn’t come over?

Oh God, I’ve turned into one of those annoying overanalytical girls.

To stop myself from going insane, I go into the stockroom and grab a box of T-shirts that’s just been delivered, intending to get them out on the shelves. I hear the shop bell ring as I’ve just lugged the box down from the shelf.

Grady’s out back with Base, cleaning the boards from the lesson they’ve just done, so I’d better get back out on the shop floor.

Armed with my box, I walk back into the store and then freeze on the spot.

Adam.

He’s here in the Shack.

He looks so much more imposing here in the shop than he did yesterday. I mean, I knew he was tall, but I feel doll-sized compared to him.

And he looks even more gorgeous, if that’s possible. He’s wearing a pair of black board shorts, a red T-shirt, and flip-flops.

He even has nice feet. And I don’t like feet, especially men’s feet. They’re usually all hairy and gross.

But Adam? Well, he has nice feet. They’re all tan and sexy and not too hairy.

Oh God.

I lift my eyes back up his body to his face, my eyes meeting with his.

There’s a sexy smile on his lips.

He totally knows I was checking him out. And you know what? I don’t even care that I got caught.

He’s hot. It should be illegal not to stare at the man.

I grin at him, and that smile of his deepens.

And I melt into a puddle of goo.

“You need a hand with that?” He nods at the box weighing my arms down.

“Um, sure.”

He comes over, and I get a whiff of him. He smells like the ocean and sunscreen.

His hand brushes my arm as he takes the box from me, and I have to control the shiver it elicits in me.

“Where do you want it?”

“On the counter is fine. Thanks.”

I watch him walk over to the counter before putting the box down.

He’s here. I can’t believe he’s here.

Did he come here to see me?

I doubt it. I never told him I worked here.