"Punishing...Mom, I'm not punishing you. I'm getting an education." He blew out a breath, tipping his head back to look at the cloudy, grey sky. No point explaining. She heard nothing.

What was it his uncle had said? He wasn't talking to his mom, he was talking to the drugs and alcohol. Getting into the loop with her solved nothing.

"Okay, Mom."

"Okay, you'll come back?" She actually sounded hopeful.

"No. Okay, I'll try to answer my phone more often."

She sucked on what he hoped was a cigarette. "It's you and me, Dyllie. Don't you ever forget it. You and me against the whole world. I'm your mom, and no one in this world will ever love you the way I do."

He had a sick feeling that was completely true.

CHAPTER NINE.

"He kicked me out." In her anger, Nicole whipped her hand out of the dough, flinging a piece at her cheek. Her hands were too sticky to wipe it away.

James set the frosting bag down and took the big ceramic bowl away from her.

"I swear I didn't make a big scene. I didn't even think it showed on my face."

He walked her to the sink, turned on the faucet, and held her hands under the warm water, gently washing the dough off her fingers. "What does haggis have to do with sustainability? I don't get what he's doing." Still holding her hands, he leaned across her for a towel and then dried them.

God, she'd made a fool of herself yet again. "He said organ meats are the most concentrated source of nutrients. And they're cheap. So you can feed more people using all parts of the animal. It was disgusting. I swear he did it to test me."

He took a paper towel and wiped the dough off her face. "Was this haggis section on the syllabus?"

She nodded.

"Then he wasn't testing you."

"No, not that part. Making me come up to the front of the room and help him. He only chooses me when it's something gross."

"What did he say exactly?" The timer went off, and James left her to pull the two cake pans out of the oven.

She thought back to class when Chef had asked her to hold up the heart, liver, and lungs in front of everyone. The vile smells had hit her right away, and she'd known eating them would be a huge challenge. But she was determined not to fail. Unfortunately, after just one bite of the finished product she'd gagged.

"Tell me what he said."

Her head hurt. Her brain felt stuffed with cotton. "He said, Enough, in this big, booming voice. And he kicked me out of the room. He kept yelling at me as I packed up my stuff. What was I doing wasting his and everybody's time, this is college, not some cooking class for pampered princesses." She imitated his deep voice. "What if he kicks me out of the class?"

"For what? Gagging? I don't think professors can do that."

"He's not a professor. God, I was doing so well. I hadn't gotten sick in weeks. And now this." She looked away. "I blew it. There's no way he'll choose me. Dammit, I thought I'd made progress."

James stood beside her patiently.

"He's not, right?" she asked. "Choosing me?"

Her friend didn't say anything, but his lips pursed and his brow pulled in tightly.

"I know. He's not. I'm not getting in." Tears welled, blurred her vision.

James pulled her into his arms, and she just let go. Just wept. She'd wanted it so badly, but she'd failed.

"Maybe you should tell him."

"No. I can't. He'll think I'm trying to get his pity. I don't want his pity."

"Tell who what?" a male voice demanded.

Oh, dammit. She'd thought she was alone. Tuesday night, the house had been so quiet. When had he come home?

Dylan stood a few steps behind James, looking fierce. Flanking him were two party favors-Brittany and a new girl-and his usual guy friends. She lowered her face into James's neck, hoping the jerk would just leave.

She hadn't talked to him since Saturday. After his conversation with his mom, he'd headed into town. Since then, he'd acted like nothing had happened in that car. What an ass.

"What's going on?" Dylan demanded.

James twisted around, and she couldn't stop herself from watching the silent exchange between both guys. James tightened his hold on her, using his body to block Dylan's view.

Dylan turned to his friends. "Listen." He walked forward, forcing the whole group back. "I'm gonna call it a night."

"Are you serious?" Brittany said.

He didn't even answer, just herded them out of the kitchen. "I'll catch up with you later."

Nicole watched over James's shoulder as Dylan closed the door behind them, and then stormed back to her. He reached out, but James blocked him. "I've got her. Just go."

Dylan stood firm. She didn't know what they were doing with each other, but she did know there was something between them. Something special. For whatever reason, he didn't want her as his girlfriend, but she suspected she got the one thing he didn't give any of his hookups-a piece of his heart. The moment she let go of James, Dylan tugged her into his arms.

She burrowed into his chest, letting those strong, powerful arms band around her.

"Nic?" She heard the frustration in James's tone. Are you sure you want to go there?

But before she could answer, Dylan turned to him with a look that said, Let me. And she couldn't miss the edge of I need to take care of her.

With a soft smile, she let James know she was okay. The moment he left, Dylan took her hand and led her to the bench seat by the window. Sitting down, he put her on his lap, tucked her under his arms and held her. "Talk to me."

"I blew it."

"Culinary?"

She nodded. His big hands stroked her hair.

"Tell me."

"He made me touch sheep organs in front of the class."

He waited.

"I got sick."

She tensed, waiting for his response. Her dad would tell her to lighten up, it couldn't have been that bad, and to go back to class ready to handle whatever came her way. Her brothers would make endless jokes. Well, Brandon might. Ryan wouldn't even be around to hear about it.

Dylan kept stroking her hair. "I'm guessing he didn't like that."

"He kicked me out."

He didn't even flinch. Just kept gently stroking her hair, twining a lock around a finger every now and then. "Of that class? Or class in general?"

"I don't know."

"What is it that James thinks you should tell him?"

Outside her family, only three people knew her story. Her best friend, her ex, and James. No one else needed to know. Including Chef Desmarais. "He thinks I should tell him why I react the way I do."

"There's a reason?"

She shrugged, sitting up, conscious of her weight pressing on him. When she started to move, his hands clamped down on her thighs to keep her in place. "I'm too heavy." She slid back a bit, until her butt hit the cushion and her legs draped across his thighs. "He's not going to choose me for the culinary minor."

"It doesn't seem likely. Which is why James wants you to tell him what exactly to convince him to choose you?"

She knew she could trust him. But he'd hurt her so badly, flashing hot and cold, that part of her wanted to shut him out. "It doesn't matter. I'm not going to."

He was quiet for a moment, but he didn't stop sifting his fingers through her hair. Huh. He wasn't going to push for more information? "So what do you want to do?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. If I ignore it, he'll keep thinking I'm some kind of spoiled brat. But I'm not. Yeah, raw meat and haggis make me sick, but I fight through it. I do my assignments. It's not like I run out of the room crying."

"You could tell him that."

"That I think he's being unfair to me?"

"No, that'll just piss him off. Tell him how much you want to be in his program, and that you know you've had some bad reactions, but that you're working through it."

She shook her head. "No, he told us from the start he didn't want to hear from us. He doesn't want to hear our sad stories."

"Does your sad story have to do with your mom?"

The way he looked at her made everything in her soften, leaving her with nothing but the warmth and trust she felt for him. "Yeah." She'd already told him she'd been neglected. Why not give the details? She knew he'd be able to relate. "So, I told you that when my parents divorced, I went with my mom. My brothers were a little older, so they chose to stay with my dad."

"Why would your dad let you move in with an alcoholic?"

She shrugged. "She didn't fight for the marriage or her sons, but she fought for me. From what I'm told, she was getting help at that point. Or she told my dad she was anyway, and I guess he believed her. I don't know. I was seven. All I know was what she was like around me. She'd go on benders all the time. I didn't know what to do. My clothes were dirty, there was no food to eat. I mean, I was starving."

"Jesus, Nicole."

She hated the look on his face. "Hey, don't feel bad for me. I've more than made up for all the meals I missed out on." She patted her belly.

Grabbing her wrist, he pressed a kiss into her palm. "You can't expect me not to feel bad for the little girl who lived through that."

The darkness outside the window, the warmth of his body where they touched, brought back all their moments of intimacy. How could he feel this connection and then forget it ever happened? How could he hook up with someone else? She couldn't even think about other guys when all she wanted was him.

"So your food issues came from that?"

She nodded. "I remember this one day I was so hungry I passed out. Of course, I didn't know what happened at the time. Only that the world shifted, I felt nauseous, and I woke up on the floor."

His body tightened. "Fuck."

"Yeah. My mom rarely shopped, but even when she did, she didn't cook anything. She'd just leave the bags right in the entryway and then go straight for the freezer. Stuff as many bottles of vodka as she could fit in there. And then I wouldn't see her for days."

His hand came down to her thigh and squeezed.

"I, um, I'd eat whatever I could find. Sometimes..." A knot formed in her throat. Heat washed through her. This was the one little bit she hadn't shared with anybody. Because it made her sick to think about it. Because it was too...God, it was just so awful. "There'd be packs of raw chicken legs or meat in the refrigerator, you know? And I didn't know what to do with them." She paused. "I just...I was so hungry." Her voice sounded thick.

His closed his eyes.

She should probably stop. He didn't need to hear this. But something compelled her to go on. "One time, I tore off the plastic from the chicken, and it didn't smell right. But I was so hungry my mouth watered. I was just sitting in front of the open refrigerator in my nightgown and bare feet, holding this rancid chicken. I didn't know what to do. I'd looked through all the cupboards, and the fridge was empty except for a few packs of raw meat. So, I ate it."

"Jesus fucking Christ."

"Yeah, it was awful. I got really sick, and that was it. After that, my dad took me away from her."

"Good. I don't know why he let you live with her to begin with."

"He didn't know she wasn't going to meetings. And after she stopped getting help, she scared me into not telling anybody what our lives were like. Before he'd come pick me up for visits, she made me promise not to tell him about whatever had happened that week."

"I understand that."

She was sure he did. "I did my best to hide it, but at some point it was really confusing because as much as I didn't want to live with her anymore, I couldn't stand leaving her all alone. But after I ate that bad chicken...well, the next time he came to pick me up, I told him how sick I'd gotten that day."

"Wait, who took care of you? When you got sick?"

She couldn't believe how quickly she could be thrown back into those memories of helplessness and abject fear. That day, with her stomach cramping, she hadn't known what to do. She'd curled up on the kitchen floor, sweating and balled up in pain. So completely alone in the world.

When she didn't answer, Dylan said, "Your mom didn't help you?"

She shook her head. "But as soon as I told my dad, he packed up my stuff and took me home. And that was it. The nightmare was over." She remembered so vividly waking up that first morning in her old bedroom in a warm, fully-stocked house. The utter relief she'd felt.

"You left her."