I’ve never been happier to wake up and know it’s Saturday morning.

I don’t mind working. I like it, actually. Fixing things is kind of cool, and there’s always something new to learn about a house. A house has secrets, and they won’t be revealed until it breaks or you go looking for them. Yesterday we were removing wallpaper from a living room, and discovered three layers of previous wallpaper. Brynn was amazed by the styles as they came off, trying not to laugh at the paisley in shades of brown. It ended up being an all-day job. Thank god I remembered my portable speaker, because Brynn doesn’t talk much. When I turned on today’s hits from the app on my phone, she flashed a disbelieving look at me.

“You don’t like the top forty?” I asked.

“Too mainstream.”

“What do you like?”

“Everything,” she replied, then she climbed onto a ladder and learned how hard it is to peel off decades-old wallpaper.

That answer didn’t shock me. She was like that all week. Evasive. Non-committal. At first, it irritated me. Why the hell does she act that way? I didn’t understand. By Friday, I expected it. Anything different would’ve been shocking.

We stopped at the bank at the end of the day, and I pulled out cash from the business account. When I put the envelope in Brynn’s hand, she slipped it into her purse and leaned her right shoulder against the truck window, murmuring her thanks. Her chest filled up with air, which she let out slowly and silently. Her relief makes me curious. Other than the obvious reason of food and rent, why does she need the money so badly?

I roll over and punch the pillow, groaning. I can’t lay here and think about her any longer. She’s a puzzle I don’t have the pieces to.

My phone dings on my nightstand. I grab it and see Anthony’s name and a message.

Let’s hit some bags after I’m done fishing.

I’m not surprised he’s already at the lake. It’s his Saturday morning ritual. I respond, telling him I have to go to my parents’ house first. My mom needs a reconciliation of all the work I did this week so she can start the billing. Normally I do that on Friday nights, but last night I wasn’t in the mood.

I’m not much in the mood now, either, but it has to be done. At least today I’ll be able to slam my fists into some bags and break apart the tension that has my body and mind in knots.

Knowing I have something to look forward to forces me from bed. I get ready slowly, enjoying not having to be somewhere at a specific time. I drink coffee on my back porch, wearing only my jeans, while the sun spills onto me and warms my skin. As hard as I try not to think about Brynn, my thoughts wander to her.

What does someone like her do on the weekend? Not only is she new in town, but she’s reclusive. It’s not like I could go to Chambers, the best bar on Main Street, tonight and find her there. She wouldn’t go shoot pool, she wouldn’t go to a movie, she wouldn’t go…anywhere. I can’t picture her feeling comfortable in any of those places.

I shake my head, hoping to push Brynn and her blue eyes from my mind. She’s certainly not thinking about me. I need to stop thinking about her.

When I get to my parents’ house my mom is already at her desk, waiting for me. She leans back in her new, ergonomic desk chair when she sees me.

I sink down onto an old folding chair she keeps in the corner. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hay is for horses!” She chuckles at her terrible joke.

I shake my head and try again. “Hello, Mom.”

She grins. “Better.”

“Where’s Dad?” I lift an ankle over the opposite knee and pull out my phone. I need to access the log I keep in my notes app to remember where I was and how long. Sometimes all the homes blend together. Except for this week, when Brynn was with me. I was hyper-aware of every step I took, every breath, every glance, every everything.

My mom frowns at the ceiling, to where their bedroom is on the second floor. “He’s lying down.”

“Everything okay?”

“He didn’t sleep well, and neither did I, as a consequence.” She lets out a heavy breath and shrugs. “Oh well. Gotta keep on moving, right?”

I smile. My mom hates complaining. I think she was a saint in a different life.

“Mary called me and told me about Brynn.” She grins impishly. “She said Brynn seemed like a little more than an employee, and that she’s so pretty it’s hard not to stare. She also said that you had no problem staring at her.”

Never mind. She’s not a saint. She’s nosy, and so is her best friend.

I keep my gaze on my phone and act like what I’m doing is important. “I’ll be sure to appropriately thank Mary the next time I see her,” I say calmly to my screen.

“Oh, please.” Mom waves her hand. It catches my attention and I glance away from my phone. “Don’t be so touchy,” she admonishes. “Brynn’s beautiful, so what? You can still do your job.”

When I don’t say anything, she narrows her eyes at me and leans forward. “Right? You can do your job? Brynn won’t be a distraction to you?”

I stare at her for another moment, drawing it out, and then palm my forehead with a dull smack. “I just forgot I didn’t do half my work this week because Brynn blinked and I was captivated.”

Mom gives me a dirty look, searching her desk for something to throw at me. A balled up napkin is all she has that won’t cause real physical damage, so she tosses it. It bounces off my knee and lands on the ground. I grab it off the floor and shoot it into the wastebasket beside her desk.

“Mom, I’ll be fine. Trust me. Brynn has less interest in me than she does one of the pine trees in her backyard.”

She gives me a disbelieving look.

“I promise,” I add, thinking of the way she practically leaped from my truck when I dropped her off yesterday afternoon, after we were done for the day.

“Well, now I want to know why she doesn’t like you. She would be lucky to have you, and I’m not just saying that because I’m biased. You’re handsome, loyal, talented, responsible…”

I let her go on for fifteen more seconds. After the week I had with Brynn, I need an ego boost. Although considering the source, I’ll have to discount fifty percent of what she said due to motherly preference.

I hold up a hand. “Okay, Mom, I get it. I don’t think it’s that she doesn’t like me. Brynn is kind of like Fort Knox. She plays things close to the vest, and that includes most emotions, almost all thoughts that aren’t snarky, and a lot of details about her life. She’s told me some things, but…” I shake my head, recalling what she’s revealed, but I remember more what she hasn’t told me. Like why she came to Brighton and how long she’s staying. “She doesn’t give much away, that’s all I’m trying to say.”

Mom nods slowly, thinking. She pulls a piece of hair from her cheek, tucking it back into her low bun. “Sounds to me like Brynn experienced something very painful.”

The thought sends a jolt through me. In my mind I see and hear the piercing door alarm.

Brynn is scared of something. Or someone.

“Shit,” I mutter. “You’re right.” My head rocks from side to side sluggishly as I work through how I missed something like that. She doesn’t have an attitude problem. She’s hiding behind a wall, erected to keep her safe.

My mom’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Whatever happened to make her that way, I’d say she came into luck meeting you.”

I look at her, eyebrows pinched. “What do you mean?”

“You’re the best person I can think of to help coax someone from their hiding spot.”

I nod as though I’m agreeing, and change the subject to the reason for my visit. I can’t talk about Brynn anymore. The thought of someone hurting her sends anger coursing through me, and the thought of consoling her makes me want to jump in my truck, speed to her house, and show her how she deserves to be touched.

Clearly, that’s never going to happen.

“Connor? What do you want?”

I draw in a quick breath, surprised Brynn answered her phone. “How is your weekend going?” For real? Did I just say that? Lame with a side of extra lame.

Brynn knows it too. The line is quiet for a moment, then she sighs. “I think you called me by accident.”

“Maybe,” I respond, tipping my head back against my truck’s headrest. My ego is a tad bruised. Can’t she sound at least a little pleased to hear from me on a Saturday?

She snorts. “Connor, did you mean to call me or not?”

“No,” I say, lying through my teeth. “But since my butt decided to dial you, I figured I might as well make conversation.”

Oh my God. No. No no no.

All I can do now is pray she doesn’t think I’m making a crude junior-high joke about bodily functions.

“Ummmm okay?”

I have to recover from this. “I’m on my way to do something manly.” I glance at my boxing gloves as I say it.

“Oh yeah?” She sounds completely uninterested.

Even though she hasn’t asked me what manly thing I’m on my way to do, I tell her anyway.

“Boxing?” Her voice perks up. “Is there a boxing place around here?”

“The Knockout,” I answer, stifling my surprise. “It’s about twenty minutes away, in Still Creek.”

“Oh.” Her excitement disappears. “That’s too far.”

Right. The car thing. Another question I want to ask but I’m too afraid.

“Maybe I could take you there sometime?” I offer.

“I’ll check out their website. Maybe I can take a lesson…” Her voice drifts, dropping low on the last words.

“What are you up to this weekend?” I ask, changing the subject.

“This morning I walked to the grocery store. I needed ingredients for a new dish I’m trying.”

“Oh yeah? Need a tester?”

“Not unless you want to eat sour beef.”

I make a face. “Sour…beef? Why would you eat sour meat?”

“It’s not for me.”

My whole body tenses. There’s someone else? Have I missed something entirely? I hate having to ask the natural follow-up question. “Who’s it for?”

“Walt. It’s his favorite.”

Angry breath pushes through my pursed lips. “Brynn, I told you about him. He’s crazy.”

“He is not.” Her volume increases, and she sounds irritated. “I ate dinner with him last Monday. He is lonely, and grumpy, but he is not crazy.”

“Brynn, you just arrived here. Take my word for it, okay?”

“No. I make my own judgments, and I say he’s sane.”

I smack the heel of my hand on the steering wheel. Why won’t she listen to me? Wouldn’t most normal people hear the word crazy and automatically turn in the opposite direction?

“A few years ago, Walt backed his car into a young girl’s car at a red light. On purpose. They both got out of their cars, and Walt told her that she deserved to be hit, and then,” I shake my head, angry I even have to say this part to her, but if she’s not going to listen to my warnings, she needs to hear this. “He told the girl he was going to rip her fucking heart out.”

True to form, Brynn is silent.

“I’m sorry,” I finally say.

Her response shocks me, but maybe it shouldn’t. I should be shocked at myself for expecting her to be anything other than oppositional.

“Were you there?” she asks, her voice angry.

“No, but—”

“Did you talk to Walt about this yourself?”

I sigh. I see where she’s going, I just don’t want to follow her there.

“No.”

“Have a nice day, Connor.” The line goes dead.

“Fuck,” I yell into the empty space and toss my phone onto the passenger seat. Why is it everything I do manages to push Brynn farther away? I thought we could at least be friends, but now I don’t even see that happening.

I press down a little harder on the accelerator. Now I really need to punch something.