They gleamed in his late-day approaching stubble. Carly had always distrusted that smile, because it was his “gotcha” smirky look. Sometimes in their dating, it had been matched by the warmth in his eyes. But this time, his eyes were as silver as a cold steel blade. “You’ve got a few minutes. Norma’s car is at Jimmy’s getting a new battery. She doesn’t think it looks right to make official calls in his wrecker and she’s hurrying him. It’s Saturday, and Jimmy doesn’t like coming in to work on his day off. You’d better start packing your things. Get that junk out of my bathroom.”Carly hurled her bath scrub-net at his face and it bounced to the floor. She’d lost almost an hour sobbing over the shoebox of valentines she’d discovered in her search for the diary. Tucker had kept every valentine from her and no one else. Her handwriting on the back had been crossed out by a big black marker. His adult masculine script had graded every one, from “Not bad for a first attempt at spelling my name”
