From there, I head over to visit Nan. When I walk into her room, an orderly is tidying up around her bed and aims a kind smile my way when she sees me at the door.

  “Hey, sugar. She’s been sleepin’ most of the morning,” she warns me.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. They gave her somethin’ to calm her down. She was real nasty when she first woke up this mornin’. Wouldn’t listen to nobody.”

  I nod in understanding. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  She leaves, dropping her hand to my shoulder in quiet support, and then I pull up a chair beside Nan’s bed, reaching out to take her fragile hand in mine. Her skin is papery thin as I run my thumb back and forth across her knuckles. I sit like that for a while, just studying her as she sleeps peacefully.

  “Sorry you had a bad morning, Nan. Want me to read to you for a bit?”

  I pull out a heavy textbook from my bag and plop it on the edge of her bed so I can flip open to the chapter I started reading last night. If Nan were awake, she’d be happy to listen to me read. She was the one who first encouraged me to study hard and focus on my education. She fostered my love of learning, and even though my courses at Caltech were a bit over her head, she was so proud to hear about what I was up to in California.

  When I was little, she’d tell me all the time, “You’re gonna go to the moon one day, Birdie.”

  Turns out, I’m going nowhere but here.

  In Piggly Wiggly later, I grab what items I need and add them to my basket, tallying up the price in my head as I go. I can’t spend more than twenty dollars and I’d like to get Nan some of her favorite caramel candies, so I put back the grapes I was eyeing and grab some bananas instead. As I stand in line at checkout, everyone’s chatting on about Ben and the rest of the basketball players. It’s all anyone wants to talk about these days.

  “I hear they’re only in town two more weeks before they head to Tokyo,” Debra says to the customer she’s ringing up. “We’ll miss them when they go. That fancy chef of theirs has been putting in huge grocery orders to feed ’em all.”

  The world seems to shrink around me as I process that news.

  Two weeks.

  A blink.

  Somehow I’d forgotten Ben wouldn’t be staying long.

  “What about you, Birdie?”

  I look up and realize Debra’s staring at me expectantly.

  “Sorry. What?”

  She laughs. “You guys over at Dale’s gonna miss them when they go? I’ve heard they come in and eat there sometimes. I’m sure they leave good tips and such.”

  My stomach hurts too much to give her a decent reply, so I just nod.

  Yeah, we’ll miss them.

  I pull up to the trailer just as the sun’s going down and unload the groceries from the passenger seat. After I put them away, I check my phone and see another missed call from Professor Olmsted. I know I’ll have to give her a call back one of these days. I can’t keep putting off the inevitable. For now though, I turn off the phone and shower before fixing myself some dinner. I’m sitting at the table a while later when there’s a knock on the door of the trailer.

  I leap out of my skin.

  Holy—

  No one ever comes knocking, and definitely not at this time of night.

  Once my shock subsides, I realize it’s probably Sheriff Corbin wanting to pass along some of his wife’s cooking. He does that from time to time, and I’m always appreciative.

  “Hold on!” I holler. “I’m coming.”

  I stand up and edge around the side of the table so I can grab a sweatshirt to throw over my tank top since I’m not wearing a bra.

  “Birdie?”

  Ben’s voice stops me in my tracks and I spin on my heels, making my way for the door before I think better of it.

  I fling it open, half surprised, half relieved to see him leaning against my doorjamb wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, his hair still damp from a shower.

  He looks up and his brown eyes pierce me.

  There’s no joy there. No relief in the fact that I opened my door to him.

  There’s accusation in his narrowed gaze and furrowed scowl.

  “You’re a Goldwater Scholar,” he blurts accusingly.

  I rear back in surprise.

  “What?”

  “Yeah. Not just that,” he says, pushing off the doorjamb and making his way inside my trailer without my permission. “A National Merit Scholar too, and a Fulbright Fellow.”

  He brushes right by me, jostling me to the side.

  There’s no time to assess the fact that I’m very inappropriately dressed. Shorty shorts and a flimsy tank top don’t hide a damn thing. Worse, my hair’s still air drying from my shower, starting to curl and riot.

  I cross my arms over my chest as if that’ll help—not—and listen as he keeps on ranting.

  “You had a full ride to Caltech. There’re a dozen articles about you online. A lot of them are about Professor Olmsted, but your work is mentioned too.”

  “Are you done yet?” I say, my voice dripping with sass.

  “No,” he steps forward, his finger pointing at me and everything. “They were throwing grant money your way trying to keep you there. Jesus, it sounds like they would have changed the name of the damn school for you if you’d asked them to.”

  I roll my eyes and look away. “So you know how to use Google, good for you.”

  “Birdie, what the hell are you doing here?” he asks, stepping forward until his shoes brush my toes. Still, I don’t look at him.

  “I already told you that,” I say through clenched teeth, keeping my face to the side.

  “Yeah? Taking care of your grandmother? No one else can help you with that?”

  I hate that my lip quivers as he needles the most sensitive part of my humanity. No, Ben. There’s no one else to help me. There is no one but my nan and me. Is that what he wants to hear? Is that what he wants me to admit?

  ’Cause if so, I’ll tell him.

  I’ll give him this part of me and make him feel the weight of being Raelynn Birdie, if only for a second. I turn to him, my gaze hot and angry, and I let him have it.

  “You go snoopin’ around online, figure you know shit about me, and then show up here like this? Pissy as all get-out? I already told you why I’m here, Ben. You know the answer to all these questions you’re asking. I’m a girl with the oldest story in the book. Teenage parents who loved drugs and drinkin’ more than dealing with a newborn. They left me with my nan and never came back. Last I heard, my mom was shacked up with some meth head near Jersey and my dad was locked up.”

  The shift is so subtle on his features, someone else might miss it. The pain there, the pity he feels for me. It’s not obvious, and he’s trying so hard to keep it tamped down. I get some sick, twisted satisfaction out of doing this to him, dumping my life right over his head and making him wallow in the waste like I’ve been doing for as long as I can remember.

  “I have fifty dollars to my name, no family, no one to lean on except for my grandma. I’m doing everything I can to take care of her the way she took care of me. You think I—”

  “I can help you, Birdie.”

  That…

  That is not what I was expecting.

  I sneer, taking full offense at his gallantry. It only pisses me off more. I’m not a damsel.

  “I don’t want your help.”

  “You just said you have no one.”

  “I have Nan,” I spit out bitterly.

  His face falls like his heart is breaking for me. When he speaks again, his tone is gentle and goading.

  “She can’t help you anymore, Birdie.”

  I’m not ready to hear that, even if deep down I know he might be right. I’m not in a place to accept that fact.

  My eyes cut to the trailer door behind him, and I start pushing him back toward it. “Get out, Ben.”

  “Raelynn. You can’t do this to yourself. You’re a fucking genius, and you’re rotting away in this town.”

  His hands circle my wrists so easily as he tries to get me to stop pushing him, but I don’t let up. I push with all my might and relish the feel of physically hurting him. I want to be hurting him, hurting someone, but it’s useless. I might as well be an ant trying to move a boulder.

  His grip on my wrists tightens and he tugs me forward so I tumble against him. I crane my head back to look up as our chests press together. I’m fuming mad at the world, and if he keeps pushing me, he’s going to end up getting the brunt of that anger.

  “Let me help you,” he implores, his voice low and tempting.

  His attention leaves my eyes for a moment to skate across my lips, and then our gazes lock again and his brown eyes seem to dig into my soul. My breaths come quick and shallow, and my anger is starting to morph into something scarier. Desire. Heat. Our two bodies touch without a lick of space in between. He’s as hard as I imagined, and his muscles and size have a way of hijacking my senses. My anger trickles away with every second we stand chest to chest.

  He dips his head and I stiffen, anticipating a kiss that doesn’t come.

  His chin rests on my hair, and I listen to him inhale as his heart thumps against my hand.

  “Little Bird.”

  I squeeze my eyes closed as a shudder racks through me.

  We don’t speak for a long while, but his offer still hangs in the air between us. Let me help you. We’re embracing, but not in a conventional hug. He still has a grip on my wrists. I’m still fisting his shirt as if at any moment I’ll gather up my residual outrage and kick him out of my trailer for good. I can’t remember the last time someone held me like this outside of Leanna the other day, but it was likely Nan. She gave the best hugs. She gives the best hugs, I remind myself angrily.

  Thoughts of her bring me back to this trailer, and I step away from Ben and open the door.

  “I leave for the Games in two weeks,” he says, confirming what I overheard at the grocery store earlier.

  I nod to let him know I heard him.

  “If you change your mind…”

  He slips out and I slam the door, turn my back to it, and start to cry.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Raelynn

  I’m on edge the next morning, expecting Ben to walk into Dale’s at any moment. I took the time to put some makeup on before my shift, made sure my dress wasn’t too wrinkly either. It’s not that I want him to walk in, per se. I’m not sure what I want. I slept like crap last night, tossing and turning and trying to get him out of my thoughts. I hate him for looking me up like that, for digging up dirt that should have stayed buried. Why’s it any of his business if I’m wasting away in Pine Hill or not? Up until a few weeks ago, we didn’t even know each other.

  The bell over the door rings again, and it’s still not Ben.

  Good, I tell myself. I don’t need to worry myself with him anyway.

  I’m not taking him up on his offer. There’s no way I’d accept his help, whatever that might mean. I’ve been managing just fine on my own until now, and I’ll manage just fine in two weeks when he leaves. My stomach twists in protest, but I choose to blame the sharp pang on the fact that I didn’t eat much breakfast this morning.

  “Are these two free?” a man asks, pointing between two empty stools at the counter.

  I nod, reaching out to clear the empty plates. It’s been a busy morning and I’m dragging. I’m tempted to force down another cup of coffee, but I know it’d only make me a jittery mess.

  “I’ll be back to grab y’all’s drink order in just a second.”

  He and his friend take their seats and start chatting. I eye them as I get them some water, assessing their sport coats and button-downs. Their pressed khakis and the weight they carry around their middle. They look like grown-up frat boys.

  I slide the waters in front of them and put on a cheerful smile.

  “What can I get you two?”

  They glance between each other for a brief moment, and then the blond one leans forward with a conspiratorial smile. “How about some pancakes and whatever information you can give us about Ben Castillo.”

  My gut seizes.

  How do they know I know Ben?

  Have they been watching him?

  Watching me?

  “I hear he sometimes comes here,” the man continues, pulling out his phone like he wants to get my reply on record. “Have you ever served him?”

  My moment of hesitation seems to last forever, but it’s only a second before I shake my head.

  “Who?” I ask with a confused frown.

  “Ben Castillo. He’s one of the basketball guys. The Olympian.”

  “I have no earthly idea who that is,” I say with a shrug. “Now can I get you a coffee or a stack of pancakes? They’re our specialty. The pancakes, not the coffee. The coffee’s barely potable.”

  The men share a hardy laugh at my expense, looking at one another like, Get a load of this girl.

  I hold my breath. This is when they’ll reveal their cards if they have any up their sleeves. This is when the first guy will turn to me, level me with a stare, and tell me to cut the shit.

  Instead, he pockets his phone and picks up one of the diner menus.

  “Oh well. Pancakes, you said? Give me a short stack, please. And a cup of that coffee.”

  A second day passes without Ben coming into the diner, and I convince myself I’m glad for it. I reexamine everything he said to me when he showed up unannounced at my trailer, and I double down in my feelings that he was out of line and intrusive and arrogant. I wonder how he would have reacted if I had dug into his past like that.

  Angry with him or not, I still notice his absence, which only annoys me more.

  I’m wiping down the counter toward the end of my shift at Dale’s when a heavy Louis Vuitton duffle bag gets slung right onto the spot I was about to clean. I freeze and glance up to find a beaming Leanna staring back at me. Her black hair is long and straight. Her dark skin is so flawless it looks airbrushed.

  “Hey, Birdie.”

  I roll my eyes at the familiar name.

  “What? It’s a cute name. I heard Ben use it when he was talking to Trey about you.”

  I narrow my gaze on her. “Why was Ben talking to Trey about me?”

  Her smile widens. “I think you know why.”

  A shiver of pleasure rolls down my spine before I can help it.

  God, why does he affect me like this? Why do I care whether or not he brings me up to his friends?

  She slides onto the stool and pushes her bag to the side so it doesn’t sit between us.

  “You look really pretty,” she tells me with a smile.

  I arch a brow to make it clear I don’t believe her.

  “What? You do!”

  I don’t buy it.

  “Are you trying to butter me up for some reason?”

  She gives me a wicked smile. “Maybe. But I honestly do think you look pretty. I like when you wear your hair like that.”

  “In a high ponytail?” I ask incredulously.

  “Yes! It shows off your bone structure.”

  Oh good grief.

  I go back to wiping off the counter around where she’s sitting.

  “Ben heard some reporters came in here asking about him,” she volunteers out of the blue.

  How?

  “You didn’t tell them anything did you?”

  My eyes go wide. “No. Of course not. Not a word.”

  She nods as if she already knew that. “Good. I figured. It’s just some people…” She shakes her head. “They see these guys as their meal ticket.”

  “Well I’m not one of those people,” I say with a stubborn tone.

  She smiles apologetically. “I know. Forget I asked. Anyway, do you have a house to clean this afternoon?”

  I nod. “A big one about fifteen minutes from here.”

  “Is it toward Maken?”

  “Yeah.”

  She beams. “That’s perfect. I have a plan for us.”

  “Does it involve you helping me again? Because last time I ended up having to take you to the doctor afterward.”

  She laughs. “It wasn’t from helping you clean! Besides, I’m in the clear now. Baby’s doing just fine in there, and tonight we’re going to celebrate.” Then she unzips her large duffle and pulls out some sky-high heels. “Tell me you can pull off a size eight.”

  Unfortunately, I can.

  As we drive, I ask Leanna where we’re going a hundred times, but she just says “dinner”. As if dinner requires me to wear a dress like this—one that bares too much cleavage and flares out around my hips, cutting off to expose damn near every inch of my legs. She went crazy for it once I put it on. I changed in the back of her car and then she made me sit up front in her passenger seat, face her, and let her apply makeup.

  “This isn’t like a ‘you could be pretty if only you tried’ scenario, you realize that, right? You’re one of those girls who might look better without makeup on, even. I just love doing this, so humor me.”

  I did humor her, sitting patiently while she flipped through eye shadow palettes and contour kits.

  Then I flipped the visor down and inspected my reflection. I ticked all the boxes: healthy glow, sultry eyes, seductive lips. But overall, I still looked like myself, which was a nice surprise. I was scared she’d go a little too overboard.

  “You’re good at this,” I told her with an appreciative smile.

  “Thanks. I get really bored when I travel with Trey, so I end up going down the beauty influencer rabbit hole.”