14.Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Hank

Everything is strangely sunny when I step onto the front porch in the morning, even though it’s barely dawn. Or maybe it all just looks lighter because I can breathe more easily. I spent another night wrestling with my book, but I feel awake today. I feel alive .

“It’s probably delusion,” I tell Heather as I watch her break down her web to build it again. I’m not sure why she’s destroying it when it looks perfectly fine to me, but I’m also not a spider expert. As long as she isn’t packing up and moving, I’m fine with whatever she decides to do with her time.

I sip my tea, enjoying the experience of a hot beverage that is actually hot because for once I’m not too distracted to drink it right away. I feel like I’ve suddenly inhabited someone else’s body, and I can’t fully decide one way or the other if it’s a good thing. “I’m probably so exhausted that my brain has been tricked into thinking it’s functioning how it should,” I tell the spider.

Something buzzes in the house, and it takes me longer than it should to realize it’s my phone. I perk up. That will be Bonnie, since she’s the only one with my phone number.

Though I’m tempted to keep watching Heather do her thing, I slip back into the house and grab my phone where I left it in the kitchen. But it’s not Bonnie’s number at the top of the text. It’s not even her assistant, Trevor. I set my mug on the counter as I read the message.

Unknown number:

Hey Hank, I wanted to tell you thanks for looking out for Bonnie yesterday. I told her she didn’t need to do the stunt, but she insisted it would be better if she did it herself even though she hates heights. She’s too stubborn for her own good sometimes.

I frown, reading through the text a couple of times. Obviously it’s someone close to Bonnie. And someone she must talk to often, if they know me as Hank rather than Henry. But how did they get my number, and why are they texting me?

Though I would really rather ignore the message, I send a quick text back.

Hank:

Who is this?

Unknown number:

Right. This is Derek.

I grab my keys and head out the door without really knowing what my plan is. I don’t like the idea that someone like Derek Riley has my number. One, it means Bonnie gave it to him, and I feel more exposed than I would like. Two, he’s her ex-boyfriend. It may have been a fake relationship, but from everything I’ve seen online, Bonnie is incredibly close to the guy.

Too close.

By the time I get to the production area and slip past the security guard, who nods at me, there’s a strange buzzing sensation running through me. It’s not anger, but it’s not a positive feeling either. If this pretend relationship I have with Bonnie is going to include her famous friend, I probably need to set some boundaries.

I hear Bonnie’s voice before I reach her trailer, her words pulling me to a halt out of sight.

“You know why I can’t tell Hank any of that.”

My stomach twists, and I inch forward as another female voice responds, though it sounds like it’s coming from a phone or something.

“No, I do not know, Bonnie. And quite frankly, I am hurt that I am only just now hearing all of this, and only because Derek decided to share.”

There he is again. Derek Riley .

“I only shared,” Derek says on the call, “because I know you’re bottling it up again. You can’t keep it all to yourself, Bon.”

“I’m fine,” Bonnie says, clearly frustrated.

“You do not look fine,” the other woman argues. “You are wearing yourself down.”

This isn’t the kind of conversation I should be listening to, so I step forward and into Bonnie’s view.

She squeaks when she sees me, and both her friends say her name with worry coloring their words. “Hank,” she says, her eyes fixed on me. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s probably my fault,” Derek says.

Without offering my own answer for Bonnie’s question, I move until I’m standing next to her and have a view of the phone, mostly so I can see the guy who thought it was a good idea to send a stranger a text like the one he sent me. Derek looks pretty much like he does in all his photos, bright blue eyes set against dark hair and beard. I can see why he’s popular, but at the moment he’s not exactly on my list of people I like.

“Hank?” Bonnie says, her eyes on me rather than the phone.

I take in the blonde woman on the call, who looks intimidating and impossibly beautiful at the same time, and then I wave. “Hi,” I say, mostly to her, though I suppose I’m saying hi to Derek as well since he’s on the call. “I’m Hank.”

“Freya,” the woman replies with a warm smile.

Bonnie’s arm touches mine as she moves closer to be in the frame with me. “Freya Alverra,” she says to me. “Crown Princess of Candora.”

The blood rushes from my face. Princess? “Oh. Um.” What is a person supposed to do when meeting a literal princess ?

Freya waves, amusement in her expression. “There is no formality here, Hank.”

“You’re one of us for now,” Derek adds.

For now . I didn’t miss that distinction, and Derek knows it. His eyes are narrowed, and he’s studying me the same way I just studied him. I’m glad we’re not meeting in person for the first time because he would look far more impressive than I ever could.

“Derek, will you stop?” Bonnie says. “What do you mean you’re the reason Hank is here?”

“He texted me,” I say before Derek can make an excuse.

All three of them wait for me to say more, but that was the reason.

Frowning, I fold my arms against the chill of the morning. “I would prefer my phone number to stay between us,” I murmur to Bonnie.

As color rushes into her cheeks, she shifts the phone so we’re no longer in the camera. “I’m so sorry, Hank. Derek said he wanted to thank you for something, and I thought— ”

“It’s fine.” It’s not, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. And Bonnie’s guilt is somehow making me feel guilty. “As long as no one else has it,” I add.

Bonnie turns even more red.

Oh boy.

“None of my friends will share it with anyone,” she says, and it almost looks like she might start crying.

My guilt builds, settling heavy in my stomach. “It’s fine,” I say again, but this time I mean it. I can only imagine how Shelby would look at me if she knew how curmudgeonly I’ve gotten since losing her, and that’s not who I want to be.

Derek clears his throat, and Bonnie pulls her phone back up. “Hank,” he says, “I was going to tell you that I’m glad Bonnie has someone looking out for her while she’s out there.”

Bonnie scoffs before I can say anything, though I don’t know what I might have said. “I don’t need someone looking out for me.”

“You were up in the middle of the night,” Freya says sternly. “If that script is keeping you awake, then—”

“It wasn’t the script.” Bonnie’s eyes dart over to me for half a second. “Besides, you guys are the ones preventing me from working on the script this morning.”

“Just let Kasey handle it, Bon,” Derek says. “You’re doing too much.”

Something flashes in Bonnie’s eyes. Anger? I’m not sure she’s capable of anger, but there’s something there. “Derek, I offered to fix the script. I’m going to do it.”

“At the expense of your health? You’re exhausted, and you shouldn’t…”

I stop listening, turning my focus to Bonnie. As much as I hate the way Derek is talking to Bonnie like she’s incapable of looking out for herself, he’s right about one thing. She looks like she barely slept last night. A good chunk of that is probably my fault—anyone in her position would lose sleep over what I told her last night—but I’m guessing she doesn’t have a lot of free time around her filming schedule.

Interrupting whatever dumb argument Derek is saying to Bonnie, who is looking more and more furious, I grab Bonnie’s hand and say, “Will you let me help you?”

Bonnie’s attention immediately shifts to me, and I feel a strange sense of triumph when I catch a glimpse of Derek’s frustrated scowl before Bonnie drops her arm to her side, phone and all. That’s right. She’s listening to me . “What?” she says, her eyebrows pulling low.

I have no idea how to write a script, and whoever this Kasey person is, she can probably do it. I don’t think Derek would suggest her if she couldn’t. But Bonnie’s going to need some convincing to let go of the task, and Derek’s way clearly isn’t working. “Can I help you with the script, Bonnie?”

“Thank you,” she says, “but I can fix it.”

“I know you can. But don’t you think it will go faster if you share the load?”

She blinks, staring at me like I just said something revolutionary. “Oh. I don’t…yeah, it would.”

I slip my hand into hers. “So can I help you?”

The smile she gives me warms me way better than a cup of tea ever could. “Okay. Thanks.” Then she seems to realize her friends are still on the video call, and she lifts her phone with wide eyes.

Derek’s lips are pursed, but Freya is grinning. “I am eager to know you better, Hank, but alas, I am late for a Council Meeting.”

“No, wait!” Bonnie says in alarm. “We didn’t even get to talk about your hunky new bodyguard.”

“We might have if Riley did not decide to interrupt,” Freya says, throwing a glare to her camera.

Derek glares right back, but I don’t think it’s real. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay after yesterday, Bonnie,” he says .

“You can check on her on your own time,” Freya replies. “Besides, my bodyguard is not hunky.”

“He looked pretty hunky to me,” Bonnie argues.

Freya lets out a stream of words in a language I don’t understand. “He is hunky, yes, but he is going to last no more than a month. Not even Gregor likes him.”

“This is the third bodyguard you’ve had in as many months,” Bonnie says. “Are you sure you’re not driving them away?”

“If I am going to have someone a step behind me for the rest of my life, I must be able to trust him. Not a single one of these men has shown me I can do that.”

Bonnie snickers. “I’m not going to argue. But you can’t honestly tell me you don’t think this latest one is attractive. He’s a beautiful Candoran specimen with a smile that would distract anyone who might be attempting to harm you. He’s like a Norse god.”

Freya snorts out a laugh but stifles it with her hand. “I will be certain to tell him you think so. I was unaware that Norse god was your type, Bonnie.”

I shouldn’t be feeling as jealous as I am. Derek is one thing, but a questionable bodyguard who seems only distantly connected to Bonnie? Something is wrong with me, and yet I want to ask if Bonnie thinks I am attractive. There is no way she would ever call me hunky —my metabolism doesn’t lend itself to bulk, even when I’ve tried in the past—but I want to know if I have at least a little something going for me. Otherwise, the only external image I have of myself will be from June, who doesn’t consider me a man .

Not exactly a confidence booster.

“He can be attractive without being my type,” Bonnie says.

“I feel like I shouldn’t be a part of this conversation,” Derek mumbles, and then he’s gone .

Freya snickers. “It serves him right. But I really do have to go.” She blows a kiss to the camera. “Please try to get more sleep if you can, Bon. I know you want to do your best work on this movie, so you must take care of yourself. Hank, I will neither text you nor share your phone number, so you have nothing to fear from me.”

I groan, but a smile plays on my lips at the same time. “That’s going to follow me, isn’t it?”

“Most likely,” Bonnie says. “Good luck with your bodyguard woes, Freya!”

Freya blows another kiss and hangs up, leaving Bonnie and me on our own.

I decide to ask my most burning question before the awkwardness builds. “I know I shouldn’t ask, but what did Derek mean when he said you were bottling things up?”

As she tucks her phone into her pocket, Bonnie bites her lip. She deflected last night too, so I don’t know what I expected. “Hank.”

I duck my head. “Sorry. Like I said, I shouldn’t have—”

“I don’t trust easily.”

“June’s the only other person who really knows what happened to Shelby.” I wince as soon as the words leave my mouth, mostly because they make no sense in the context of our conversation. “I mean, I get it. Not trusting people. It’s hard.”

Bonnie squeezes my hand, reminding me that I’m still holding on to her. The feel of her fingers between mine has apparently become comfortable enough for me to forget they’re even there. Strange, considering how long it’s been since I was in a relationship or even around other people.

“No one else knows?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Before she moved to Laketown, I was entirely alone. ”

“Being alone is awful.” Whether or not Bonnie meant to say those words out loud, she seems to regret them as she turns her focus anywhere but on me. She can’t hide her blush, though. “Um, I should probably change. I have a meeting with Jonah and the chemistry coach pretty soon.”

After what I saw on set yesterday, I have no idea why they need a chemistry coach. They’re perfectly fine. Too fine. But instead of fixating on how much I hope I don’t have to watch Bonnie act any more scenes with Jonah, I shift our conversation back to what she first said. It’s a risk, but I’m feeling bold this morning. As someone who has spent a significant chunk of his life alone, it’s impossible not to wonder how anyone could let someone like Bonnie Aiken feel alone when I know she hasn’t been single in years.

“Is that why you’ve been in so many relationships? So you’re not alone?”

Fully crimson now, Bonnie tugs me up the stairs and into her trailer. “They haven’t been real,” she says and drops my hand, heading for the closet farther back.

“I know that, but I didn’t want to call them fake in case anyone outside was listening.”

That gets her to pause and look over at me. “Oh. Smart. I wasn’t…” She shakes her head, like she’s trying to shake something out of it. “I need to be more careful when I’m outside or Fran’s going to murder me.” She gasps and covers her mouth. “Oh, Hank, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

Surprisingly, nothing about what she said hit me like it might have a week ago. I don’t know if that means I’m numb or healing, but it certainly feels better than the ache I’ve had for the last four years. Smiling, I settle myself on the couch. “It’s okay, Bonnie. It’s getting easier.”

She watches me for a long time, and so many emotions cross her face that it’s impossible to guess what she might be thinking. I hold my breath, hoping she’ll trust me enough to open up to me, even if it’s only a little bit. Yes, I told Bonnie that our relationship would only ever be fake, but we agreed to be friends last night. Friends share their burdens with each other.

Besides, the longer I watch her in return, the more I’m worried my heart is starting to lean in the wrong direction. I took a step by talking about Shelby, and now it feels like I can’t stop walking. I have been at a standstill for so long, and I’m over it.

Please let me in .

“Yes,” Bonnie says after a long time. “Yes, that’s why I’ve been in so many relationships. Partially, anyway.” She starts sorting through the clothes hanging in her closet. “More than anything, they were calculated decisions for my career.”

Like ours. If she thinks I didn’t notice the shift in her tone, then she doesn’t know me very well. Which, admittedly, is true. But I’m pretty sure I’m now watching Bonnie the actor, not the real Bonnie, and I don’t know how to bring her vulnerability back. I’ve gotten lucky, so I probably shouldn’t push. But I do anyway. “Will you tell me about them?”

She glances at me. “Why?”

Because I want to know you, Bonnie. But I don’t say that, because I’m a coward. What I do say sounds ridiculous and like something a guy like Derek would say. “Because I want to know how I measure up.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “There’s no need to compare yourself to anyone, Hank. You’re all different.”

And she’s good at deflecting. “Please? I would rather hear about them from you than have to look it up online.”

Sighing, she turns her attention back to the clothes in front of her. “Are you sure you want to hear about all this?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

“I believe you. You are one of the most sincere people I’ve ever met, Henry McAllister. ”

The only reason I don’t feel like an idiot for blushing is the fact that she’s refusing to look at me, so my embarrassment—and maybe pleasure—go unnoticed. “So? Are you going to spare me from the horrors of the internet?”

“My first boyfriend was Jeremy O’Hara.”

“Am I supposed to know who that is? I’ve been cut off from the world for four years, and before that I only paid attention to whatever Shelby was into, which was mostly artists and poets.”

Oh, that makes me sound like I didn’t have a life. I did, but I’m the sort of guy who has generally been content to follow.

Her hands begin sorting through the clothes again as she talks, and she sounds like she’s talking about the weather instead of her love life. “Jeremy played for the Seahawks. Tight end. A bit handsy at times—I was brought in to try to fix his bad boy reputation—but he got me a lot of attention in the beginning, so that was nice. Before that I’d just been doing little films and TV shows.”

I try to say something but realize my jaw is clenched too tight. I force it open. “What do you mean by handsy?”

She laughs as she pulls out a pink sweater and holds it up to her body. “Nothing terrible. He liked to put on a show more than anything, but our contract kept him from doing anything he shouldn’t.”

I really don’t like that a piece of paper was the only thing protecting her. Nor do I like how she brushes it all to the side. So far, this is doing nothing to break through the actor mask she’s put on, but I’m not ready to give up. “Why did it end?” I ask, my voice strained.

“Jeremy got bored and hired a, well, some company one night and got caught by the paparazzi. I got to stage a tearful reaction video, which caught the attention of a director, Michael Bobby, and that’s how I got into one of my first big roles. He’s an amazing director, so all the stuff with Jeremy was totally worth it.” She puts the sweater back in the closet and resumes her browsing .

I don’t even have words. Maybe it’s because I was with Shelby for eight years and she was my only significant relationship, but I can’t wrap my brain around how casually Bonnie is saying all of this. Does it not bother her at all that she offered up a piece of her heart, however small, only to have it disrespected so horribly?

“After that was Michael, of course.”

I regret asking. “Michael, as in Michael Bobby? Your director?”

“Yep!” Bonnie pulls out a different sweater—blue this time—and then shimmies out of her fleece jacket that she was wearing. “That relationship turned out to be a double-edged sword. Some fans loved the idea because of our business relationship, and others hated it because he was about twenty years older than me, so it didn’t last very long. My publicist had me start dating a YouTube star pretty soon after Michael thought we should part ways.”

I can’t stop the surge of protectiveness that keeps building as she talks. She makes it all sound so normal, like pretending to date people to boost their images is no big deal. I know she is smart enough to see the dangers in this sort of thing, and I can’t help but wonder if this is the same thing I encountered when I offered to help her with the script.

She could have said no to all of these relationships, but she chose not to. How much of her life has been spent doing what’s best for everyone but herself? “Bonnie, maybe we should— what are you doing ?” I turn my head away from her, but she already has her shirt off. I’m facing the other end of the trailer, but I cover my eyes with my hand anyway. Just in case.

“Oh! Sorry. I wanted to change, but I forget sometimes that not everyone is used to seeing me.”

“Why is anyone used to seeing you?” And why am I so tempted to turn around? That’s a dumb question, though I’m surprised by the attraction sparking to life in my chest. I thought that part of me was broken .

“Makeup and wardrobe have seen plenty of me,” Bonnie replies with a tittering laugh, as if it’s no big deal. “Sorry to scandalize you, and it’s okay if you don’t like what you see.”

“It’s not that. I don’t want…” My words falter, and my face blazes hot. Yeah, definitely not broken.

Bonnie sits on the couch next to me and takes hold of my arm. She waits until I cautiously look her way—thankfully she’s wearing the sweater now—and then she smiles at me. But it’s not a real smile. It’s a nervous smile, with a healthy dose of wariness and fear behind her eyes. “You don’t want what, Hank? We made our rules, remember? You should always be comfortable in this relationship.”

Is that what she thinks this is? Adjusting my glasses, I take a moment and study her face, hoping she’ll be willing to show me more than the surface again. “Are you comfortable?” I ask her, looking down at her hands circling my forearm.

She snickers. “Hank, I dated the stuck up son of an oil tycoon. You’re about as tame as they come.”

“I didn’t mean with me, though I hope you’ll tell me if you’re ever not. I mean with all of this.” I gesture to the trailer, hoping she knows I mean everything beyond it as well. “With your public life. Never having any privacy.”

She smiles, and at first it seems like she’s going to brush my question away. One of her hands even lifts in the air as if to wave it all off. But then she pauses, her eyebrows slowly dipping lower, and it’s like she’s finally cracking a window into the real Bonnie again. Somehow, she looks even more tired than she did when I showed up, and the urge to pull her into my arms rises to the point where I almost wrap my arm around her by the time she speaks.

“Trust me,” she says quietly. “A lack of privacy is worth it.”

I frown. “Why?”

“Because it’s better than being totally alone. ”

There it is again, only this time she keeps her eyes on me. The acting mask is gone, leaving a woman who desperately wants me to see her but doesn’t know how to let me in. I know exactly how that feels. I may never heal from Shelby’s death, but I can’t keep hiding from the world either.

“Have you…” This could be my riskiest question yet. “Have you ever had a real relationship?”

Something changes in her expression, and it’s as much sadness as it is happiness. “Houston.”

My heart stumbles in my chest as I remember the conversation I had the other day with Chad and Hope in June’s store. “Houston Briggs?”

She nods. “I didn’t take you for a baseball fan.”

“I’m not. I… His brother, Chad.”

Recognition sparks in her eyes, bringing a smile to her face. “One of your five friends?”

“He owns a house down the street from me.”

“What a small world!”

Not small enough. If Houston is anything like his brother, I have to wonder why that relationship ended. Sure, Houston is famous, but Chad has always spoken highly of his pro pitcher brother. “How did you end up dating a baseball player from New Mexico?”

She turns a bright pink, which I don’t especially love, given the fact that her relationship with Houston is the only real one she’s had in the last who knows how long. “We met at a party in California. He and a few of his teammates decided to crash it after a game, and he was too charming to ignore.”

I’ve never been accused of being charming. Even Shelby told me more than once that I had the charm of a sea slug. “It’s a good thing you’re cute,” she would tell me right after and then kiss me senseless. How is a guy like me supposed to compete with a professional pitcher ?

Wait, do I even want to compete? This relationship isn’t real and has no potential to become real. I shouldn’t have to keep reminding myself of that.

“He’s getting married at the end of the week,” Bonnie says, and for some reason that seems to disappoint her. Which only makes me feel worse. Of course the relationship she’s the most sad about is the only one that wasn’t orchestrated for her. I don’t think anyone could truly be happy about having people thrust on them as romantic interests. “Are you going to the wedding?”

I got an invite, though I’m pretty sure Chad knew I would ignore it. I’ve never even met Houston, though I have no doubt Chad and Hope have both spoken to their family about me. Given the enigma that is a man in his early thirties living life as a hermit, I wouldn’t blame them. “No,” I say, answering Bonnie’s question later than I should have. But then something sparks in my mind. “Are you?”

“Yeah. It got worked into the schedule before we started filming. Beckett’s not happy about it, but what can he do?”

I hate that my mind is scrambling for a way to convince Beckett that he has to do something to keep Bonnie here. I don’t have any right to be jealous, but I am. “It’s not common for people to go to their ex’s wedding.” And that sounds like I’m being rude, so I add, “That’s nice that you’re still on good terms with Houston.”

Bonnie smiles, shaking her head. “We were always more friends than truly attached to each other romantically.”

Why do I get the feeling that that’s a lie? It’s like that cracked window keeps opening wider, and the longer I look at her, the more I can see the nerves she’s trying so hard to hide. This woman is an actor. A good one. But I’m starting to see through the sheen and find the woman underneath.

And I’m pretty sure she’s been hurt more than she’ll ever admit .

“What if…” I swallow, trying to hold back my thoughts, but the words are going to keep coming whether I want them to or not. “I could come with you. To the wedding.” What in the world did I just say? I don’t want to go to a wedding! Sure, it would give me a chance to see Chad and Hope, but I’ve barely managed to find the will to leave my house. There’s no way Houston’s wedding will be small.

But even as my anxiety rises, something in me wants to go with Bonnie and make sure she’s okay. She’s so good at pretending she’s happy with the way her life is, but I’ve started getting glimpses of the truth. No matter how strong she is, she’s been passed around from man to man, and it doesn’t sound like any of them valued her like they should. Not even Houston.

If he did, he never would have let her go.

Bonnie seems to think I was joking about going to the wedding—her smile hasn’t changed—but the longer we look at each other, the more her expression turns to confusion. “You want to go to Sun City with me?”

I absolutely do not . My heart is already racing at the thought. I nod anyway, trying to smile. “I think people would be concerned if I didn’t. Houston is famous enough that there will be plenty of attention on his wedding.”

“And plenty of people expecting to see you at my side,” she finishes for me. “I didn’t think about that. But Hank, I know you’re not big on public events.”

“I can manage.” Hopefully.

“Besides, I’m flying to Los Angeles for a couple of days right after the wedding to do an interview with Derek about the latest movie we’re in together.”

Oh, this just keeps getting better. “I could go to California.” Keep breathing, Hank. “If you want me to.” Keeping calm is a struggle, but based on the way Bonnie’s expression turns grateful, I know I can’t take back my offer. In fact, she looks downright relieved by what I’m saying. That’s a bad idea. What if I mess everything up like I did with our ice cream date? This scenario would be so much worse.

It’s one thing to spend time alone with Bonnie as I get to know her better, another to wander around my small town and the watchful eyes of my neighbors. But Los Angeles? That’s a completely different situation and far from the baby steps I’ve been taking.

That’s a leap over a chasm too deep to see the bottom. A jump from an airplane with no idea if I have a parachute.

Bonnie grabs my hand, her eyes bright with what I’m going to have to assume are happy tears. “I would love that, Hank. I’m not going to know anyone at the wedding outside of Houston and his family, so it would be nice to have a friend. Derek was going to come with me originally, but…” She shrugs with a laugh that isn’t at all believable. Whatever acting skills she had earlier are gone. “I can’t believe you would be willing to do something like that when you have already done so much with this relationship. I’ll need to find some way to pay you back.”

If only she knew how much she has changed my life in a few short days by giving me a reason to wake up and live again. Even if she hadn’t, I’m getting the sense that Bonnie is used to doing what’s best for everyone but herself. I’m not social in any sense of the word, but Shelby was. And I know even Shelby would have hated going to something like an ex-boyfriend’s wedding by herself. I’m sure Bonnie can make friends anywhere, but she’s too well-known for anyone to treat her like a regular person.

No wonder she’s felt so lonely.

I put my other hand over hers. Hopefully this unexpected adventure won’t send me scurrying back into hiding when it inevitably overwhelms me. “I’m happy to go, no repayment necessary. It’s been a long time since I’ve been…anywhere, really. And I wouldn’t mind seeing Houston’s brother. It’s been a while for that too.”

Bonnie grins. “Well, then it’s a date! ”

Great. I’m glad I could help her feel more comfortable about her trip. Knowing she has a date seems to have lightened the weight on her shoulders.

The problem is I’m starting to think I want that date to be real, and that’s not going to end well. Bonnie doesn’t do love, and I think I might be in danger of falling right into it.