1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Indy — nine years ago

T his was my coyote ugly moment.

No, I wasn’t lying in a strange bed, head pounding as I tried to unravel who was passed out beside me. Nor was I atop a beer-slicked bar counter, dancing to LeAnn Rimes.

But I would chew my arm off to be anywhere but here.

“For Pete’s sake, Indy—you can’t put sugar in a customer’s gas tank just because they made you mad.”

“I didn’t put sugar in his gas tank.” I thrummed a finger over the cardboard box, deciding what to pack next. Tossing the roller skates aside, I grabbed a pile of clothes and stuffed them inside. “That damages vehicles, and I’d never do something like that.”

“Then can you explain to me why Mr. Walsh’s vehicle is currently stuck outside the diner? It won’t start, and there’s sugar scattered on the ground beneath his gas tank. I have two witnesses who claim they saw you outside fiddling with his car.” Mom tapped her foot, and if I wasn’t running late, I might’ve paid attention to the keen sense telling me to stop. But I had somewhere to be, and these boxes weren’t going to pack themselves. “He said you even charged him for the sugar. That’s some nerve! ”

I choked on my laugh, and Dad seemed to do the same from my bedroom doorway. Hastily, I grabbed the roller skates and crammed them in the box with my sewing kit, deciding I hadn’t given them a fair shot after quitting the first time I nearly broke my ankle. “He wanted sugar in his tea. Am I not supposed to charge him for that?”

“No, you should not charge him for free sugar packets. Especially if you poured them into his gas tank! How do you expect us to replace his vehicle? We’re not made of money.”

“Then maybe it’s not such a bad idea to start charging for sugar packets?”

I was running a bandana through my fingers, wondering if I should bring my gardening supplies, when I realized how silent it had fallen. I glanced out of the corner of my eye. Mom’s nostrils were flaring. I swore her hair deepened a shade of red, something Dad said she and I had in common—when we lost our temper, our hair was on the verge of flames. “I may have dumped a few packets on the ground beside his car so he’d think I did,” I admitted, turning to face her in my haphazard bedroom. Jeans were piled on my desk, my pair of red Ariat boots beside them. Yellow nail polish was tipped over, leaking onto the Lucky Charm crumbs on my floor. Nearly everything I owned had been tossed around my room as I struggled to decide what to keep and what to leave behind. “But I didn’t put any sugar in his gas tank.”

“Then why won’t his car start?”

“I unplugged his battery.” I shrugged. “If he’d looked under the hood, rather than pointing fingers, he would’ve seen that.”

She gaped at me like she had no idea where I’d come from. Chuck E. Cheese was what I told her every time I got that look. “He has every reason to believe you’d do that. Don’t think anyone forgot how you tortured that poor man by hiding Pop-Its in his chair every day last semester. You’re lucky they let you graduate.”

“How could they stop me from graduating if they never proved it was me?”

She raised her brow, silently calling me out. Fine, it was me. But Mr. Walsh deserved it. I shouldn’t have bothered him today, but after he walked into the Struttin’-Ruttin’ Diner, I’d practically foamed at the mouth to deliver one last prank.

Mom sighed, a hand on her hip. “When is this going to stop? What did that poor man ever do to you?”

“Nothing.” He’d done something to someone I loved, and that was worse. “I’ll apologize to him the next time I see him. I’m sorry,” I added, realizing both she and Dad still wore their aprons. They must’ve been mad if they’d left the diner in the middle of the dinner rush. “I won’t do it again.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

I gave her a tight-lipped smile, saving my breath. I could swear on my firstborn child, and she still wouldn’t believe me. I eyed the Patrick Swayze poster on my wall, torn if I should bring it or not as she said, “I found one of your acceptance letters today. Might not be too late to change your mind.”

I rolled my eyes. I should’ve burned that letter, not thrown it away. Rather than commenting on her going through my trash, I reminded her, “We agreed that I’d apply.”

Not that I’d go.

Leaving the poster behind, I slipped into my bathroom, aware she and Dad were having a silent conversation behind me. Opening the medicine cabinet, I rifled through the bottles as Dad said, “Might not be a bad idea if you take a class or two. Especially since you’re going to be living on campus anyway.”

“I don’t understand why you want to live on the campus of a college you aren’t attending,” Mom muttered.

I opened the bottle of Benadryl and grabbed two tablets before swallowing them dry, gagging at the taste. “Because I’m living with someone who is going to school there. And I’m not taking classes because I don’t know what I want to do.” I could barely cram pieces of my life into boxes—how could I possibly know what I wanted to do with the rest of my life? I knew who I was today, but I couldn’t anticipate tomorrow or the next day.

But I wasn’t afraid. There was one steady light in my future, and I was following it .

Glancing in the mirror, I pulled my hair out of its bun, copper curls sprawling down my back. I grabbed a purple bandana to match the flower I’d painted on the thigh of my overalls and tied it in my hair, adjusting the knot as I said, “Plenty of people don’t go to college. Auburn didn’t.”

“Your sister had a plan,” Mom countered. “There’s a difference.”

I snorted. Besides the three years between us, the only difference in our situations was that my older sister had moved to Texas to connect with some marine she’d written letters to, and she happened to know what she wanted to do with her life. “I have a plan.”

“No, you’re riding on a dream. One that’s not even yours.”

My throat swelled, a sense of defeat settling in. I grabbed my Chuck Taylors, hoping the polish I’d painted on my toenails mid-packing would dry in the time it took me to walk down the stairs. “I take it you’re going to see him?” Mom asked, eyeing the fruit I’d previously tucked into my bag. “Unless your allergy to peaches miraculously disappeared.”

She reached into my bag, and I didn’t stop her from taking the peach out. I’d get another one. “It’s a mild allergy. Nothing some Benadryl can’t handle.”

She shared a glance with Dad. “Make sure you’re home by nine.”

I let out a heavy breath and walked out of my bedroom, one foot on the stairs as I said, “I’ll see you for my shift in the morning.”

“Indy, I mean it.”

Grinding my teeth, I spun on the step to face her. Her lips were pursed, her red curls tight and in place from the roller set she did every morning. Her skin was smooth and wrinkle free, and despite her claims I’d given her her first gray hair last week, no one would guess she was in her midforties. Her eye twitched, and I could tell by the way she glared at my overalls, she’d realized I only wore a bra underneath. Dad must’ve sensed we were on the verge of blowing up, as he said, “We just want you to be careful, Indy.”

“I’m eighteen,” I reminded him. “In one week, I’m leaving. Giving me a curfew won’t change that.”

He winced, though I had no idea if it had to do with the nerve he’d damaged in his back when he’d served in the US Army or with his youngest child flying the coop. “We know nothing is going to change that. But you can’t fault us for wanting to keep you safe.”

“Why do you think you need to protect me from him? He’s done nothing wrong.”

He sighed, running a tattooed hand over his bald head. “We’re not trying to protect you from him necessarily—”

“You’re young,” Mom cut in. “This sort of dedication isn’t healthy. Anyone in town would agree.”

I huffed a laugh, thinking of all the times they’d begged me to commit to something. They’d probably meant something along the lines of a hobby, like baking or playing the guitar, but I’d found something better. “Since when is dedication a bad thing?”

Dad opened his mouth, but Mom beat him to the punch. “There’s a difference between dedication and infatuation. And you’re dangerously walking the line. You give any more to that boy, and you’ll have nothing left.”

I stared at her, defeat weighing even heavier than before. I didn’t believe her—and I was exhausted from this endless battle. “He can have it all, Mama.”

“And when he leaves you?”

I reared back like she’d slapped me, and she might as well have. We’d had our fair share of fights. There were plenty of reasons given and arguments made. But all of them were grounded in fear. I was throwing my life away for some boy . We’d change and grow apart. I’d get tired of living in his shadow.

It was silly they believed that.

Silly when I’d never felt braver than when I was with him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

I ran down the stairs, out the front door, and onto the porch before I could hear another word. One peek at the sun edging beneath the tops of the pine trees told me I had no time to spare, but I grabbed the hose and sprayed water onto my roses, blooming pops of apricot, yellow, and violet. Promising to give them more tomorrow, I started the quarter-mile run toward town.

“I can’t!” I hollered after hearing Mom shouting from the porch to put on my damn shoes. “ My polish isn’t dry!”

I gripped my shoes in one hand, rocks shifting and pine needles crunching beneath my feet as I ran down the dirt path. It would’ve been quicker to drive, but I doubted Dad was in the mood to loan me his truck. And it wasn’t like I had to go far.

Besides, I’d run forever if it got me away from here.

Wallowpine was a backwater town, wedged in a forgotten corner of Arizona near the New Mexico border. Where the kids grew up running down country roads and mud bogging down by the lake. Supergluing quarters to the floor of the grocery store and playing hide-and-seek in the forest, praying a bear wouldn’t be the one to find you.

Although, the people of this town had me wondering if a bear was the friendlier option. A bear would never accuse me of stealing their cat or snitch to my parents when I climbed out of my bedroom window after curfew. And a bear would never leave a box of tape on my doorstep with a note that said: since you can’t figure out how to shut up on your own .

I could only hope leaving town meant leaving the small-minded folks behind with it.

With time slipping behind the tree line, the sun setting a warm glaze on the valley, I shoved on my socks and shoes and veered into town for a quick pit stop. The ground shifted into broken pavement and concrete, the landing zone of Wallowpine.

I waved to Donna as I walked by the front windows of the country store, my sights set on the farmers’ market set up beside it. Grumpy Gus’s eyes narrowed as he saw me, and I smirked as he moved a crate of watermelons out of my reach, acting like I’d steal them to chuck at stop signs.

“Oh, no. I don’t think so,” Wren said, eyeing the peach I grabbed off her stand. “Your mama will kill me.”

“If anyone can take my mama, it’s you.” I handed her cash and winked before taking a bite of the peach. “But we’ll just tell her I stole it.”

She tipped her head back in a laugh, her skin a warm brown. Her husband, Jake, sidled up beside her. “Our boy sure looks ready. ”

I smiled, knowing exactly who he was talking about. The town loved their golden boy, even if he was about to leave. I glanced down the street toward Graham—Bait and Game. A group of teenage boys, most of whom had been on the high school baseball team, sat on the tailgates of their trucks in the parking lot. They were laughing, carefree as they had a good time, but one stood out from among the rest.

“He is ready,” I agreed, heart racing as Wallowpine’s golden boy knelt beside the blue pickup truck, looking at the front tire. “But I’m afraid he won’t be doing anything else but losing today.”

Wren chuckled. She knew about the games I loved to play—and how much I loved to win. “You better get going, sugar.” She kissed my cheek, telling me to keep raising hell before sending me on my way. I ran through the rest of town, waving as a few folks hollered their best wishes. They’d told me the same thing yesterday, and I’d hear it every day until we were finally gone. The town hadn’t been this excited since a few years back, when a local boy wandered into the forest and got lost.

I crossed the highway, hearing the sure sounds of screeching tires and someone hollering for me to get my head out of the clouds. Ignoring them, I ran down the side of the road and into the meadow. Grass swished against my legs, and I bit into the peach, its juice like a poison on my tongue. I was pushing my luck, but why stop now? Taking one last bite, I tucked it away in my bag as I edged closer to the tree line.

I slipped into the forest and slowed to a walk, telling myself I was panting from running, not because of the peach. The lighting was dim, the fading sun casting a gray hue as I scanned my surroundings. I smiled at the sight of the aspen tucked deep in the forest, its gray bark stark beside the pine trees. It was about a half mile from my house, but I was certain I could find it in my sleep. I quieted my breaths as I walked, careful not to make any noise.

You never knew what you might find out here.

A branch snapped behind me, and I twisted on my heel, searching. My heart raced, faster and faster, even as I found nothing and no one among the trees. With only seconds left, I took off into a sprint .

I raced toward the aspen, a laugh bubbling past my lips, eager to claim my victory. It was within reach, no more than a few feet away, when an arm hooked around my waist.

I screamed, the sound mixed with a laugh as my feet left the ground, my back pressed against a warm, solid surface. “Oh, come on,” I cried, already knowing who was holding me. “How? You were at the shop! Your tire was flat—”

Nolan Graham’s fingers squeezed my side, and I kicked my feet, giggling. After my shift at the diner, I’d snuck by his dad’s shop, Graham—Bait and Game, and let air out of his tires, but I should’ve known that wouldn’t stop him. His voice was hot against my ear. “You really should stop cheating.”

He loosened his hold on my waist, and my feet touched the ground. I moved as he did, desperate to win. I reached out my arm, but he beat me to it, his hand touching the tree first. Accepting defeat, I leaned over, my hands on my knees as I caught my breath. It didn’t matter how many times we’d done this—I was breathless every time.

Nolan’s fingers grazed my back, and clearing my throat, I straightened myself. My breathing might have slowed, but my pulse pounded faster as I peered into his blue eyes, bright even in the fading light. Blond strands of hair fell across his forehead, his skin tan from his time on the baseball diamond. Freckles dusted his nose, and there were crinkles beside his eyes, proof of how much he’d smiled throughout his years in this town.

I smiled wide, not bothered in the slightest when he didn’t smile back. He was the town’s golden boy, not mine. He was leaving Wallowpine in a week to chase a wildly big dream.

And Nolan was taking me with him.

His free hand curled around my jaw, and he leaned down, his lips skimming mine. “I win, peaches.” I reveled in the nickname, melting into him as he kissed me. His lips were thorough, like he couldn’t get enough and was desperate to remember my taste. My breaths were rasps, my throat swelling from my allergy, but I paid no heed.

It was worth it when the poison felt as good as this.