“His miraculous hand went higher still, past his head. He stretched it as far as it would go and pointed it in the direction of the glow he’d seen from the parking lot. Mouse pointed to where he believed Blake might be. Just in case you need it, boss.”

“He checked her face first to see if she was all right, then dropped his eyes to the keyboard. It was like someone had plugged him in. His eyes widened, his mouth dropped open, and he stretched his fingers.“Will you play it, Blake? Will you?” Livia almost jumped with excitement.Blake covered his smile. He nodded. Livia plopped the keyboard on the kitchen table, which was still moist from where he’d wiped it with the kitchen sponge.Blake kissed her and then spoke solemnly. “I’ll play it for you.”

“That moment…that moment out there?” Blake pointed at the bed of army jacket, grass, and mint. “I’ve pictured it in my head for months. Months! I knew it would never really happen, but it kept me going. The beautiful, smiling girl would look at me like a man—a man worthy of her body, worthy of her kiss. Do you realize what a fool I am for hoping?”Blake took her face in his hands. “You let me touch you. Kiss you. Your skin? It feels like piano keys. My hands know just where to go.” He proved it by sliding one hand behind her neck and settling the other just over her heart.”

“You’re so real. You have a bedroom and a brush. All the times I waited for you, I could never picture where you came from—what had made you so extraordinarily different. But you made you different.” Blake ran his hand along his neck, smiling shyly in her direction.“There are a million girls just like me.” Livia almost hated to point that out.“No. There’s only you.” Blake looked away from her and squinted into the sun.Look at him looking into the sunlight!”

“Listen, Mouse wants us to find Blake,” Eve pleaded. “That’s why he’s pointing. That’s why he took out three assholes on his own like a gladiator. I want to sit and cry. I want to get him in the back of his own hearse and treat him like a goddamn king. But right now, we’re going to finish what he started.”Beckett stood and nodded. As wrong as it felt, he needed to leave his friend—no, my brother—lying dead here. At least for now.”

“He tried to remember the feel of her hand when she’d shaken his. “I’m Livia McHugh. It’s nice to meet you.”Smoke poured from the cardboard as he remembered his response. “Blake Hartt. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He’d said his name, but what he’d been thinking was: She touched me. I am someone. I count.”

“The next evening, Beckett had waited for Rick in his usual spot, head down and hands clasped in front like a condemned army cadet. As Rick approached, the sound of a solid punch suddenly snapped Beckett to attention. Blake stood in front Beckett with his arm in obvious recoil from the blow he’d landed on Rick.But instead of starting a brawl, Blake had assumed Beckett’s position, hands holding one another in submission. “I’d like to take Beckett’s beatings for tonight, if that would be acceptable,” he said.”