Chapter 11

“Eat your lunch,” she ordered.

“Can’t,” Shane repeated, and put the lid back on the box. “I’ll take it home. For later.”

“You can’t go…”

“You’re not my mother, Bex.” The words were half-sighed, half-snapped, and Shane grimaced the minute they were out. “I’m sorry. Sorry, I just…”

“I know,” Rebecca said softly—perhaps the one of them who would understand the most, and Shane’s smile felt almost genuine on his face.

“Option three,” Sophie said, tapping the table with her pen. “Option three is you tell your dad some good excuse to stay here.”

“There’s no good excuse.”

“Medical school,” she replied promptly.

“I can’t tell him that I’m not going into the…”

“It’s either that, or tell him you’re, you know,” she waved a hand. “Which would be less likely to end up in a murder?”

“Sophie!” Luke protested.

“Which one, Shane?” she insisted, and Shane shook his head.