Supposedly the truth will set you free, but I didn’t know it could also open up a well in your soul, allowing you to go deeper and feel more.

I’m walking a tightrope of emotions. Too far to one side and I’ll never get to experience Connor the way I want to. Too far to the other and I’ll abandon my plans to some unknown detriment.

I’ve been thinking about that almost constantly for the past two weeks. Probably since the moment I woke up in Connor’s bed that first morning.

This far removed from my old life, it’s too easy to think maybe there isn’t that much danger after all. Distance was what I needed. Maybe it’s what Eric Prince needed too. If I’m not there to threaten, he’ll give up. Can’t terrorize a person who’s no longer available.

Every day that passes, the line becomes more and more blurred.

I’m pretty sure it’s all Connor’s fault. Why does he have to be so easy to like? Why does he have to have a crooked grin that I only see on his face when he’s inside me? If I’d never let my guard down and allowed that to happen, his crooked grin would be a secret. A secret sex smile. That’s what he has, and just knowing that I know that about him makes my chest do this warm, tingly thing.

This is why each day is getting more difficult. How am I supposed to stay the course when Connor is now on it too? It’s like I’m trying to drive the getaway car and he has tossed tacks on the road, like some kind of cartoon. Which is obviously a terrible analogy, considering I no longer drive.

Connor will be here soon to pick me up for our double-date with Anthony and Julia. Dinner at some bar and grill place. Bowling. Things normal people do on a Saturday night. I’m not kidding myself though. I’m still not normal. Normal people’s hearts don’t race when they drive over speed bumps.

But I’m trying. Connor is patient with me. He doesn’t challenge the quiet that takes me over at times. When I go off in my own mind, he doesn’t try to bring me back. I know he wants to, and I also know he’s not sure if he should try. The problem is, I’m not sure if he should try either.

I’m ready early, so I go visit Walt.

Usually he opens his door before I have a chance to knock, but tonight I have to bang on it twice.

My fist is raised for a third and much more insistent knock when he shouts from inside, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Keep your pants on.”

He opens the door. There is blood on his forehead, and I can’t tell how big the wound is because the blood is smeared. It’s darker around the edges, like it has begun to dry. “Walt, what happened?” I reach out but curl my fingers back in.

He opens the door all the way and retreats into his home. Stepping in, I shut the door with my foot and follow Walt to the kitchen.

He stands at the open fridge, pulling out different items. Bags of deli meat, cheese, a loaf of bread, and lettuce. He tosses each one by one on the counter, and leans back down to search for something. After a moment he grabs a jar of pickles and stands, shutting the refrigerator door.

“Want a sandwich?” he asks, shuffling over to the counter.

“No thanks. Are you going to tell me what happened to your forehead?”

He ignores me, attempting to open the jar of pickles. When it doesn’t open he sets it down too hard on the counter and growls. It’s a gravelly, bearish sound. I hear the frustration behind it.

“Walt?” I come up to stand beside him at the counter and gently elbow him out of the way. “Let me do it.”

“I’m not helpless, you know.” Still, he walks away and sits in a chair at his little kitchen table.

“I never said you were.” The lid twists away from the pickle jar with a pop. “Although you are kind of being an asshole today.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he mutters.

“Do you want tomato on your sandwich?”

“Yes.” After a moment he adds, “please.”

I assemble the sandwich and place it in front of him, then go back to the fridge and take out a cold can of beer.

“Do you want this? Might be refreshing.”

He nods, his mouth full, and I crack the top. I slide it over to him and take a seat across from him.

“Now will you tell me what happened?”

He nods, looking at the table top. I follow his gaze to a screwdriver with a black and yellow handle. “I’m a grown man. I’ve been a grown man for a long time. I was tightening the screws in my TV stand. It’s old but it’s fine, just needs some attention now and then. The damn screwdriver wouldn’t work.”

I give him a look.

“My hand works just fine, thank you very much. Not my fault the damn thing flew up and hit me.” He takes another bite and chews angrily.

“I think you’re lucky you were working with a flathead and not a Phillips.”

His bushy eyebrows lift, and I grin. I’m proud of myself.

“Well, look who knows her screwdrivers.”

“I’ve picked up a few things from Connor.”

“Try not to pick up an STD. Or that other one, what’s it called? Gonorrhea.”

I exhale and cross my arms. “Walt, you are beyond words.”

“What? I’m just saying. I’ve noticed his truck over at your place an awful lot during late hours.” He sets down his sandwich. “Do you know what you’re doing with that boy?”

I think back to last night and try not to let the smile I’m feeling show on my lips. After dinner at his parents and a banana split at that cute shop in town, we were so ready to be alone that we couldn’t make it to either of our houses in time. He’d pulled into the farthest parking spot at a deserted park and I climbed on top of him. Thank goodness for tinted windows.

I push down the memory and turn my attention back to Walt. “What do you mean?”

Walt swallows the last bite of his sandwich and drinks the remainder of his beer. He places the empty can sideways on the plate. “I mean, does the boy know this place is only a stop for you?”

“I’ve told him.”

“What does he say about that?” He sits back, his stomach pushing against his plaid button-up. The white fabric of his undershirt peeks through a button he has missed.

“He doesn’t say much. He hasn’t asked me to stay, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“I’m not getting at anything. It was just a question. But the boy must have some opinion on the matter. Most men would.”

“He asked that I say goodbye first. That was all he said.”

Walt folds his arms. The frown on his face looks more at home than his infrequent smiles.

“What?” I ask, agitation in my voice.

“Do I get a goodbye too?”

I look down to my empty hands in my lap. “I didn’t agree to say goodbye.”

“Did you say no?”

My head shakes, the small hoop earrings I’m wearing gently bump my skin.

“Then don’t say no to me either.”

I cough, hoping the sting of tears I feel behind my eyes will stay back there.

Leaving becomes harder each day that I stay.

“Did you guys know Brynn has another special man in her life?” Connor leans back in his seat and looks from Anthony to Julia, then back to me. We’ve just placed our order for dinner.

“Who said you’re special?” I ask, my lips smiling around the straw in my mouth. I sip my grapefruit juice and soda water.

Julia laughs and Anthony snorts.

“Who’s the other man?” Julia asks me.

I roll my eyes. “His name is Walt, and he’s eighty-two years old. He’s kind of like a prickly pear cactus. His needles hurt, but he grows sweet fruit.”

Three bewildered faces turn to me.

“Come on!” My hands fly through the air in front of my face. “Don’t tell me you have no idea what a flipping prickly pear cactus is.”

“Coming up empty, Brynn.” Julia’s trying not to laugh.

“Ugh.” I cross my arms. “You higher elevation snots.”

Connor laughs into a fisted hand, his shoulders shaking. “We’re snots? You’re the one from Snottsdale.”

“Correction.” I hold up one finger. “I had a Phoenix zip code.” Maybe another time I’ll tell him I grew up in Scottsdale, a suburb of Phoenix, and the nickname is totally undeserved. Mostly, anyway. Well, maybe it is a little. Ok, fine, it’s deserved.

I jostle my shoulder against Connor’s. “How did that nickname make it’s way all the way up to the pines?”

“It took a left at the prickly pear cactus and went due north.” Anthony is laughing so hard while he’s talking the words barely come out. Everybody understands him anyhow, and Julia laughs until she has tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Anyway,” I say loudly, reaching my hand into the bowl of pretzels and tossing some at Anthony. They bounce off his forearms and onto the floor.

Connor and Anthony start talking about the car he’s repairing this week. Julia is kind, funny, and easy to be around. Despite this, I’m wary. I can talk to her all day about basic subjects, pop culture, and common knowledge, but I’m not sure how to go past that. I’ve been burned at the stake by people I considered friends.

“So,” Julia begins. “What brought you to Brighton?”

“Change of scenery,” I say, gesturing outside. “Summer is better up here.”

“Will you go back to Phoenix for winter?”

I steal a glance at Connor. He’s talking fast and punching the air. I guess they’ve moved on from the car repair. Turning back to Julia, I say, “Probably not.”

She winks. “He’s quite a catch, right? Snatch him up now. I know a lot of ladies in my office who would love to know how this guy hasn’t been on their radar.”

“Tell me about your work,” I say. Good Lord, I want to change the subject.

“I work in the mayor’s office. Right now I’m in charge of planning the first annual Independence Day Parade.”

This is something that should be exciting, but Julia isn’t smiling.

“Uh huh. Okay.” I nod my head, encouraging her to say more. She doesn’t say anything, so I ask, “What’s the problem?”

“I don’t think anybody even knows the parade is happening. I’ve been working on it for months, planning and getting communities, programs, and businesses signed up to make floats. But when I ask people around town if they’re coming to the parade, they look like they’ve never heard of it.” She sighs, and it’s such a crestfallen sound it’s like I can hear her spirit sinking.

“This event is for everyone, yes?”

Her eyes are interested and confused. “Yes.”

“And your goal is to increase attendance?”

She shrugs. “I guess so.”

“What have you done to market it?”

“It’s on the home screen of the city’s webpage. Next week we’ll hang a banner from the street lights where Main Street begins.”

“How will you inform and entice all the people who haven’t recently visited your website or driven through that light?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Taking a pen from my purse, I grab a paper napkin from the container at the end of the booth.

“Here’s what you’re going to do.” I uncap the pen and start writing. When I’m finished, I slide it across the table to her.

“This is”—Julia glances up to me and back down to the napkin—“incredible. How do you know about all this?”

I wave my hand in the air. “A past life. It’s not hard. Honestly. You identify your product, and who wants it. Then you take it to the places where they put their eyes.” I recap my pen and slide it into my purse. “Easy peasy.”

Julia reads over my notes. “The grocery store idea. I mean, duh. So perfect.” She looks up at me. “Thank you. I’ve been stressing about this like crazy. You have no idea.”

Our server interrupts Julia to drop off our food. Connor and Anthony remember their dates and ask us what we’ve been discussing.

“Oh my gosh,” Julia says, stuffing an onion ring into her mouth and chewing. “Brynn basically just snapped her fingers and solved all my problems with the parade. I was so stressed but now”—she makes a show of taking a deep breath—“I can chill.”

“Are you chill enough to try that thing I want to try?”

“Anthony,” Connor complains. “Are you for real?” He balls up a napkin and throws it on the table. “We do not want to hear about your requests in the bedroom.”

Julia reddens. “That’s not what he was talking about.”

I ignore them and eat my sandwich. Fried chicken. With pickles. I mean, really? Has anything ever been this delicious? I hear them again when Connor says body shot.

“No, I’ve never done one, dipshit. I just want to know what they’re like.” Anthony holds up his hands. “Sue me.”

“They’re not that exciting,” I say, retrieving a pickle from my plate and popping it into my mouth. “You either take the shot and then lick the salt off someone, or you drink the liquor out of someone’s belly button. It’s not that great. Unless you’re talking about the ones that happen at house parties or frat parties, and those can get crazy.” I meet the eyes of three surprised people. They’re more surprised than they were about my prickly pear cactus comment.

“Not that I would know,” I add. “I’ve never done one, but I’ve seen them a lot.”

Connor kisses my temple. “What else is in this beautiful head of yours?” he murmurs against me. His breath tickles the baby hairs at my hairline.

“Many, many things. Like types of screwdrivers and how to line up brackets to hang pocket-rod curtains.” Our job yesterday was installing and hanging curtains in a living room with eight windows. I had no idea how much math went into a job like that. It was a great reminder that I’m still terrible at math, as though I could’ve forgotten.

“Connor, have you painted anything recently?” Julia asks.

“Umm…well…” Connor stammers. An outline of my half-naked form doesn’t count as a painting.

“He painted an eye,” I answer for him. “It’s really cool. It has all these colors inside it, kind of like a storm or something, right, Connor? But it’s like the sky is painted typical storm colors.” I’m using my hands to describe it. “The water is colorful. It’s fascinating.”

“You like it, huh?” Anthony says. His lips are pinched like he’s holding back a smile.

“Yes. Of course I like it. Why?” I squint, trying to figure out why he’s asking before he can tell me.

“No reason.” He looks at Connor and then signals to our server. “Another round, please,” he says when the server stops by.

Julia leans forward. “Connor, there’s an empty space downtown. We’ve been talking about trying to introduce more culture into the area. If I’m able to get my boss to agree to an art exhibit, would you put some of your pieces on display?”

“Of course!” I blurt out, then cover my mouth with my hand. “Sorry. I got excited. I’ll let him answer.”

Connor chuckles and winds his arm around my waist, pulling me into his side. “I’d like that,” he says to Julia.

She claps her hands together twice. “I’ve solved two work problems in one evening. We should double-date more often.”

Anthony gives her a hungry look. “Does this mean I get to take a body shot off you?”

She rolls her eyes and looks exasperated, but I can see her interest. “I guess.”

When our server delivers their second round, I order two shots of tequila and limes.

Once everything is set up, I begin my instruction. Julia and I are both wearing short sleeves, so I show her how to rub a lime on her shoulder, right beside the curve of her neck.

“Now, pour on the salt. The lime juice helps it stick.”

I do it too, and a few salt granules slide down my tank top.

“You two,” I point at Connor and Anthony. “Take the shot. Then lick the salt off us, and bite into your lime wedge.”

Both guys do as I say. Connor nips my skin after he licks the salt, keeping his eyes trained on me when he bites his lime. My fingertips press into the spot he bit and licked. He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Now what?” Anthony asks. His cheeks are already flushed from the tequila shot.

“Bowling?” Julia says.

“Do they have tequila?” Anthony asks, eying Julia’s shoulder. He pushes her hair aside and brushes a kiss onto the spot he just licked.

“They have a bar. Let’s go.” Connor stands, pulling his wallet from his back pocket.

He and Anthony settle the bill and finish their beers. Julia looks at me and shakes her head. “Is this going to be a long night?”

Anthony pretends to deliver a punch to Connor’s stomach and Conner jabs back.

“You might want to lay off so you can drive later,” I say, looking back at Julia.

“Good call. I’d say the same to you, but you aren’t drinking tonight. Why not?” She hooks an elbow around my arm as we walk out.

“I don’t drink at all. I don’t enjoy the feeling.” It’s the best answer I can give her. It’s honest. Partially, anyway. Drinking the way I used to gave everyone ammunition. Maybe one day I’ll have a drink, but it’s not happening any time soon.

“I like you, Brynn. You seem like good people.”

I grin at her, but the happy feeling is dampened by knowing I’m going to leave her too. Walt, Julia, Connor. I came to this town to blend in, not make friends and start the foundation of a life here. Every second we spend together is only going to make it harder when the time comes for me to leave. What am I thinking, allowing this to continue? I need to be stronger, better, say no to everyone and become a hermit until my parents deposit that money. I could protect them all if I would just—

“Stop thinking about whatever it is your pretty little head is overthinking.” Connor’s voice is low, a rumble in my ear.

“I’ll drive,” Julia offers, pointing at her silver sedan.

“Am I that obvious?” I say to Connor.

“Yes. Now stop. Be here, in this moment, with me. With us. We’ll worry about tomorrow later.” Then he delivers a swift smack on my ass, the kind that crackles in the air.