Chapter 13

thirteen

BECCA

The line at the Empanada Shack was long, but Will told me it would be worth it. We chatted while we waited, but I could tell Will was skirting around something. He'd tugged on his hat no less than four times, and by now, I knew what that meant.

When he'd first seen me outside of the Grandpappy's tent, he'd looked . . . I didn't know. On anyone else, I would have called their expression pleased. But Will's face was typically so stoic and reserved that the change was a stark contrast. One that had filled me with sunny warmth. He'd looked like he wanted to tug me by the waist and kiss me right there on Main Street.

And then he'd guided me through the crowd and even held my hand. But as we'd walked and talked, a change had come over him. Something I'd said or done had made him pull back.

Maybe he hadn't wanted anyone to get the wrong idea about us. Will was practically a celebrity in his hometown. It could have been that he didn't want to be seen holding my hand.

I ignored the spike of disappointment that thought caused and did my best to focus on the present, not my best second-guessing of the recent past.

"What do you mean my dad let you drive the tractor? "

I couldn't help but laugh at his incredulous expression. "I don't know! I was walking near where he was working, and he told me he wanted to show me something. So he led me through the plantings for the Christmas trees you all sell in the winter, and I'd asked about a million questions. He was patient and kind, and the next thing I knew, he was letting me drive the tractor."

Will shook his head, bewildered. "He didn't let me—his own son—drive a tractor until I was fifteen and had my learner's permit."

I laughed again as the line shifted forward a foot.

"I must look more trustworthy than a teenage boy, I guess."

"No doubt he was charmed by you and thrilled to have an avid audience to discuss Fraser firs."

I grinned. Then my eye snagged on something amazing over Will's shoulder.

Grabbing his arm, I practically squealed, "Oh my gosh. Look at them."

Will glanced backward but then turned back. "What am I looking at?"

"Them!" I whisper-yelled, my eyes going wide. "The elderly couple in the matching shirts. They are so adorable."

With another look over his shoulder, Will finally zeroed in on the couple meandering down the center of Main Street. They were both gray-haired and a little stooped with age. But they walked arm in arm and seemed to delight in the whole spectacle of the Orchard Festival. They were enjoying themselves. And why shouldn't they? She wore an orange tee shirt that said "He's My Sweet Potato," and his matching shirt said "I Yam."

I was still watching them pass by, but I could feel Will's attention on me. Shaking my head ruefully, I said, "They are so cute with their gray hair and wrinkles. You never see stuff like that in Detroit. I love this place."

Partway through my little overshare, I realized that I maybe should have kept that sort of stuff to myself. Admitting to the guy you'd kissed a few days ago that you were into matching outfits was probably the quickest way for him to lose interest.

When I got the nerve to meet Will's eyes, his were thoughtful and shadowed beneath his ball cap .

"Y'all want to scoot up?"

A voice from behind jolted us forward as the line for empanadas had progressed without us.

"Sorry!" I apologized brightly to the middle-aged man.

When I faced forward again, Will said quietly, "You seem really involved with Kirby Falls. All the groups and the volunteering. The bird-watching and the bowling league. You must be part of so many things back home. What do you do back in Detroit?"

My mind went blank, and I had to swallow a few times before it re-engaged.

What did I do back in Detroit?

Well, there had been the failed book club attempt at my local library, and I'd been trying to decide on a hobby to take up for a few months now.

The embarrassing truth was I didn't go out of my way to join things and meet people in Detroit. But I was doing it in Kirby Falls, and I didn't know what that said about me. I had this idea in my head that people here were friendlier and more accepting, but that couldn't be true of the hundreds of thousands of people who lived in my city. Something about Kirby Falls gave me confidence and made me fearless. I felt freer here than I did in Detroit, so I'd branched out and made myself available to new experiences.

For a moment, I considered Will's reluctance to go out and take part in his town. Maybe hometowns were just complicated when you didn't feel like you belonged there. I could understand Will's lack of enthusiasm. He probably felt trapped. Being back in Kirby Falls hadn't really been his choice.

This place was different and exciting to me—a girl from the city, a tourist experiencing so many new things. Will had a whole lifetime to experience the reality of Kirby Falls. He had to deal with nosy neighbors and people who reminded him of all the things he'd lost. I could definitely see how that might not be all sunshine and rainbows.

I was enamored with the novelty and newness of rural North Carolina. I loved that it was so different from the life I'd led thus far. Detroit made me feel trapped in a lot of ways too .

"I . . ." I began finally, but before I could admit the sad truth—that I was a lonely hermit who hid herself away and braced for encounters with her family, my phone buzzed in my hand.

Wow. What perfect timing.

My sister's name flashed across the screen, and the resulting dread crept up my spine. I thought about it for a fraction of a second before I sent it straight to voicemail.

Her calls and texts had been gaining in frequency and fury. The afternoon I'd gotten lost in the corn maze, I'd tried to endure her accusations (that I didn't care about her) and her anger (that I was a huge snobby bitch who thought I was better than everyone). I knew whatever Heather had to say today would be more of the same. She wanted to know where I was and when I was coming home. And I just couldn't bring myself to tell her.

If I knew the money she kept demanding was for her and not my dad, I probably would have already wired it to her. I'd never been very good at setting boundaries the way my therapist always encouraged. But I could, however, separate Heather's needs from my parents'. They'd ruined enough. Wasted enough. Destroyed enough.

But I owed it to Heather to help her, to improve her life, when I'd been the lucky one. I'd escaped and been unable to take her with me. So a part of me would always feel responsible for my older sister.

Will's tall frame cast a shadow over my phone screen, so I knew he'd watched as I hit the red button, declining the call. The guilt was a slow, steady rise that painted my cheeks hot with shame.

"I'll call her back," I said, pasting on some approximation of a smile or what I could manage of one.

I moved forward, and Will followed. We were next up in line at the food truck window.

Quietly, from my side, Will murmured, "I'm not trying to butt in, but it's okay to want to protect yourself, Becca."

Unable to meet the knowing in his eyes, I settled my gaze on his beard-covered chin. It looked like he'd trimmed it a little since yesterday, and we were close enough that I caught a hint of his sweet, woodsy scent.

I nodded, but my voice emerged small and remorseful all the same. "I know. It doesn't make the execution any easier, though."

"Next," a friendly voice called from the window.

I breathed a sigh of relief that we could put that awkward conversation behind us in favor of ordering an unholy number of empanadas. Will suggested I try one of each of the five varieties to figure out my favorite. "They're always at Firefly on Wednesdays, so you can order your favorites for next time."

Then we ordered for the crew at Grandpappy's and paid in advance before stepping to the side and waiting for our number to be called. It didn't take long at all, and soon we were on our way back to the big white tent on the corner of 3 rd and Main.

"Here," Will said, passing me an empanada from the bag. It had a C stamped into the flaky, golden crust. "It's corn, onion, potato, and cheese. It's my favorite."

I waited for a family with two strollers to pass while I took a big bite of the filled pastry. "Holy cannoli," I breathed, sucking in air to cool my mouth. "This is amazing. The filling is so hot and creamy." I moaned around another bite, and the woman with one of the strollers gave me a look.

Maybe I'd groaned out my approval a little too enthusiastically.

Will coughed into his fist and drew my attention. His neck was pink below his trimmed beard.

Fighting embarrassment, I finished the empanada in two more bites as we continued walking. But when the Grandpappy's tent came into view, Will snagged my hand and pulled me to the side of all the foot traffic in the middle of the street. We emerged behind the vendor tents on a side lane closed for the festival, and he released me.

I felt the surprise and confusion on my face as I turned to look at him.

Will cleared his throat and said, "I just thought we should talk for a minute . . . about what happened. About the kiss."

"Oh. Right." Nerves had my fingers tightening on the paper bag in my hand .

"The thing is . . . I like you, Becca. But I know you're just here for the season, and I'm not really in the market to be anybody's vacation fling." He sounded tired but earnest, and every single one of my hopes regarding further kisses with Will Clark basically plummeted to the pit of despair. I definitely should not have mentioned the old people and their adorable matching shirts.

"I think," he continued, "that it might be better for both of us if we just stay friends while you're in town."

My head nodded along because it felt like the right thing to do, and I desperately wanted to react appropriately here. I didn't feel like crying or anything so dramatic, but I was disappointed. The ache of it left me hollow.

"Yeah, of course. Friends. Friends would be great," I said decisively.

His gray eyes searched my face, likely hunting for a sign that I might turn into a clingy, crazy person and go rogue. But I wouldn't do that. I knew what Will had suggested was the smart way to proceed. I was a tourist, and starting something with him would only lead to complications and messy endings. I knew it in my soul. Leaving Kirby Falls in six weeks was going to shatter something inside me. Dragging home a broken heart would only make it worse.

My life—as messed up as it was—was back in Detroit. A temporary fling wouldn't be satisfying for either of us. Well, it would probably be satisfying. I mean, I'd seen the size of Will's hands. But there was no reason to make things weird. I was happy to be Will's friend. Honestly, that seemed like a pretty short list, so maybe this was the better deal anyhow.

While I could definitely understand where Will was coming from, I had a sense of losing something significant. Hovering on the precipice of adventure. The delicate feelings of liking a person and having them like you back but you never really got a chance to get off the ground. I'd been in standby mode since we'd kissed two days ago, and now the airline was telling me they didn't have a seat for me after all.

"We should get this stuff back," I said when I realized I'd been quiet for too long. I hoisted up one of the two giant paper bags we were carrying as proof, and I made sure to hold Will's steady gaze while I did it.

"Sure." He nodded and led me back to the tent .

When we arrived, I passed over the empanadas. Will pulled out mine and put them on a paper tray before handing them over. My appetite had abandoned me, but I smiled and thanked him nonetheless. I wasn't about to eat here with his family. I was a party crasher—someone who'd overstayed their welcome. The Clarks would never make me feel that way, but it was what my anxiety was shouting loud and clear.

Unaware of my inner turmoil, Maggie strolled up with a bright smile on her face. She handed me a plastic container filled with six apple cider doughnuts, rolled in cinnamon sugar and sparkling in the midday sun. "For you. For dessert. Thank you for fetching lunch for all of us."

Will eyed his mother. "Are those the same doughnuts that were sold out an hour ago?"

"What?" Maggie challenged. "I was saving them for our girl here."

Our girl.

The mood shifted with Will's mother's statement. Looking quickly away, he appeared as let down as I felt. Weirdly enough, that gave me some small consolation. But before Maggie could notice how heavily her words had landed, a customer called her name and drew her attention away.

I mustered up a smile and offered, "I'll share with you if you'd like."

"Oh yeah?" Will replied, and my traitorous mind flashed back to when he'd been rain drenched and beautiful, saying the exact same thing in his office before he'd flipped his hat around and kissed me.

"Yep," I replied quickly, already snapping open the plastic and passing him a circle of deep-fried heaven. "That's what friends are for."