He hesitated for a moment, then flipped straight to the last few pages. One broad stroke of his hand, and Patrick Harding sprawled across the signature line.
He stepped forward, pulled me into his arms, and pressed a kiss to my forehead, a gesture that almost passed for tenderness.
"Whatever you want, it's yours. Now be good and go home on your own."
Then he left without looking back.
I watched his retreating figure, and eight years of memories crashed over me at once.
When the Fox family first brought me back, everyone in the house hated me. My brother Carl said I'd stolen June's love. June herself found every possible way to bully me, to tear me down.
It was Patrick who stepped forward, shielded me behind him, and told June, stone-faced, to apologize.
He knew I was terrified in that unfamiliar house. Every day after school, he'd come to sit with me, bringing warm milk, saying, "Don't be scared. I'm here."
He promised he'd protect me for the rest of his life. That he'd never let anyone hurt me.
Back then, I was the only one in his eyes.
The door swung open, cutting through my thoughts.
"Ms. Fox, where would you like these pastries and flowers?"