The Sunrise Diner had seen better days. Tucked away on a side street and housed in a rundown building, the diner could have been one of those hole-in-the-wall places known for great food. If it’d had great food. Which it didn’t. The booths were worn out, the kitchen outdated, and the neon sign outside blinked PEN, the O having long since burned out. They never had many customers, but somehow the place stayed open. I had no idea how.

I opened the door, the jingling bell announcing my arrival. Betty Jean looked up from her newspaper. “Hey there, sweetie.” Her bright pink lipstick cracked when she smiled and her hair was a shade of strawberry blond that didn’t exist in nature. “You working today?”

“No,” I said. “Just killing time.”

I slipped into a booth. Betty Jean owned the place and she let me work sometimes. I knew they didn’t really need me. But Betty Jean seemed to have realized I was in a bad spot. I tried not to think of it as a pity thing. She swore up and down I gave her a break, since she couldn’t afford to hire someone full-time. If I worked some shifts, she could get other things done. It was a win for both of us.

It helped keep me afloat, even if it wasn’t enough money for me to get my own place. But at least it was something.

“Are you all right?” Betty Jean asked. She stood by the table, a full coffee carafe in her hand.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” I turned over the white coffee mug. “Just tired, I guess.” And fucking hungover.

She poured. “It’s almost lunch time, but I bet you haven’t eaten anything. How about some breakfast?”

I shrugged. I knew I should eat, but I never had much of an appetite. “Sure.”

“I’ll get you the usual,” she said. She always made me eat something. Only charged me for it about half the time, too.

She left to give the cook my order and I pinched the bridge of my nose. My head felt like it was going to split open. I dug out bottle of Tylenol from my bag and took a few. Hopefully they’d take the edge off. I glanced at another bottle in my bag. Vicodin. That would definitely get rid of the headache. But I didn’t want to be out of it when I met the Harpers later.

God, what had I been thinking? How could I face them? And how could I face the man who had Liam’s heart?

I sat in the booth and sipped my coffee. Picked at my food after Betty Jean brought it. Checked the time. Watched it get closer to noon.

And I didn’t get up.

Noon passed. They were at the restaurant, now. Sitting with him. I wondered what they were talking about. What this guy looked like. Who he was and why he’d come here. Did he want to know about Liam? Why did the Harpers want to meet him? Hadn’t they been through enough already?

Another hour. I had a text from Mary, asking me if I was still coming, and if I needed a ride.

I didn’t answer.

Betty Jean glanced at me now and then, in between helping the few other customers who came in. But she didn’t ask me what I was doing. In some ways, I wished she would. Maybe if I told her what I was avoiding, she’d agree with me. Tell me I was right to stay away, and I could stop feeling bad.

Or maybe she’d tell me to go.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been waiting for someone else to tell me what to do. The restaurant was walking distance from here. If I got up now, I might still catch them.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed my bag and stood. “Betty Jean, I have to go. Can I pay for this later?”

“It’s on me, sweetie,” she said.

“Thanks.”

Outside, the temperature had risen. It was warm for spring. I hurried down the street, adjusting my backpack on my shoulder. It was heavy, but I was used to it. I carried a lot of my stuff around with me since I’d moved in with Jared and his band.

Thoughts warred in my mind. I should go. It would make the Harpers happy, even though I was late. I could do this for them. They were probably getting ready to leave, so I wouldn’t have to stay long. I could say hello, talk to them for a few minutes, and be done with it.

But god, I was such a mess. On the outside, I looked fine. My long hair down, brushed nicely. Bracelets on my wrists. My clothes—a loose white tank top that laced up the front, cut-off jean shorts, and brown sandals with turquoise beading—were the same boho style I’d worn since college. And I knew how to put on a pretty smile. But the Harpers knew me better than anyone. They’d see right through me.

I turned and saw the restaurant up ahead, across the street. Stopped in my tracks.

Mary and Brian were there, standing on the sidewalk. Olivia came out of the restaurant. They each hugged her, then Brian put his arm around Mary’s shoulders. Olivia wiped her eyes. I didn’t see anyone else. A few people walked up and down the sidewalk, but the guy from Iowa must have left already.

My chest tightened and my back was tense. The ache inside threatened to overwhelm me. I stepped backward, still watching. They turned the other way and walked down the sidewalk—probably heading for their car.

I let them go.

I hated myself in that moment—more than ever before. Hated that I was too weak to face them. Hated that I’d let myself sink this low. I knew I couldn’t answer their questions. Where are you living now? With a bunch of guys in a band. Once in a while I let the singer fuck me so the others will leave me alone. What about a job? I get paid under the table to work at a shitty diner because the owner feels bad for me. Are you thinking about going back to school? I can’t, I flunked out and lost all my scholarship money.

The café next to me had a few outdoor tables. I slumped down in one of the chairs, leaving my bag at my feet, and took out my phone. I should at least text Mary. I didn’t want to make her worry any more than I already had. I’d just tell her I’d been called into work or something. It’s not like she’d know I was lying.

“Excuse me?”

The deep male voice startled me and I fumbled my phone, almost dropping it.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The man standing in front of me was enormous. At five-foot-seven, I wasn’t short, but if I’d been standing, he would have towered over me. And he wasn’t just tall. The guy was built like a tank. Wide shoulders, broad chest, huge arms. He had dark hair and his square jaw was covered in a thick beard. And his eyes. Deep green in the center, fading to almost brown at the edges of his irises. They were so striking. He was striking.

I stared at him, but it was hard to look away. He looked familiar, like someone I should know but couldn’t place. But there was no way I’d met him before. I’d never forget a man like this.

“That’s okay,” I said. “Do you need something?”

“This is going to sound weird, but are you Brooke?” he asked.

I blinked at him. “Um, yes. How do you know my name?”

“I’m actually not sure,” he said. “I’m Sebastian McKinney. Maybe Mrs. Harper told you about me? I just had lunch with them.”

Holy shit. This was him? “Yeah, she did, but I, um… I couldn’t make it earlier.”

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s no problem. I just saw you over here and…”

“How did you know it was me?” I asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” he said. “A feeling, I guess.”

I had no idea what to think about that. We stared at each other for a moment and I felt something stir deep inside. Maybe it was just curiosity. I’d thought I didn’t want to see this guy. But now that I was face to face with him, I wondered who he was. What he was like. Why he’d needed Liam’s heart.

And those eyes. They reached into me and took hold. A tiny spark lit inside of me, making my tummy tingle with what almost felt like nerves. It was so faint, it would have been easy to dismiss it as nothing. The stress of the day—or of my life.

But it was there. A glimmer.

“That’s weird,” I said.

He smiled. It softened his eyes and took the intimidating edge off his demeanor. “It is weird. Sorry, I’m not a psycho or anything.”

“Are you sure? Because that seems like something a psycho would say to convince people they’re not.”

“That’s a good point. But last I checked I’m pretty safe.” He glanced around the street. “Listen, can I buy you a cup of coffee or something? Or lunch, if you’re hungry. If you can’t, or don’t want to, it’s fine. I’ll go and leave you alone.”

I swallowed hard. I didn’t want him to go, and I couldn’t explain why. “Sure, coffee, I guess.”

He smiled again and gestured to the café. “In here? Or do you want to go somewhere else?”

“Here is fine,” I said.

I got up and he held the door for me. We went inside and I picked a table near the front. I felt like I needed a clear path to the exit in case this got weird. A waitress came and took our orders—coffee for me and an unsweetened iced tea for him—and left.

He blew out a breath. “I don’t know about you, but this weather is freaking me out. I’m not used to it being this hot in April.”

“I guess I’m used to it,” I said. “And I don’t think your beard helps.”

He rubbed his bearded jaw. “Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s perfect for winter in the Midwest, though. So, did you grow up here?”

“Sort of,” I said. “We moved a lot. Texas, New Mexico, Oklahoma. California for a while. And here.”

“Wow,” he said. “My parents still live in the same house they bought before I was born. Small town Iowa.”

“It must be nice to have a home to go back to,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said, but there was a hint of sadness in his voice. “A lot of memories there.”

“I guess that’s not always good,” I said.

He shrugged. “Most of the memories are good ones. Enough of them, at least. Kind of thought I was going to die in that house, though. Seems different now.”

I realized my eyes had settled on his chest. The top of a scar was barely visible right at the neckline of his shirt. I tore my eyes away, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I said.

“Thanks, but I’m sorry,” he said. “For your loss.”

I didn’t want to talk about Liam. Not with this guy. But I did want to know about him. “Can I ask what happened to you? Were you born with a bad heart or something?”

“No,” he said. “I was always healthy before I got sick.”

The waitress brought my coffee, but it sat untouched as he told his story. It sounded awful. The shock of almost dying at such a young age. All the tests, the worry. Getting worse no matter what the doctors tried. The ache in my chest throbbed when he talked about what it had been like just before he’d learned there was a heart for him. How he’d wanted to give up.

I knew what that felt like.

I thought about where I must have been when he first got sick. He’d been a senior when I was a junior, and he’d said it had been in February. His heart had given out around the time Liam had asked me to the Valentine’s Day dance.

That silly, sad teenage girl with her journals and streaks in her hair. She seemed like a different person. Her life had been messy, but what would that girl think of me now?

She’d be horrified.

“Sorry, that was probably more than you wanted to hear,” Sebastian said.

“No, it’s fine,” I said. “I’m glad your life is better now.”

I knew my words sounded hollow, but there were too many thoughts pinging through my brain. Too many feelings beating against the door where I kept them locked away.

“What about your life?” he asked.

“My life is fine,” I said.

He narrowed his eyes and I knew he could tell I was lying. But he didn’t press the issue.

“Oh, I had a question,” he said. “It’s about Liam, if that’s okay. I meant to ask the Harpers, but I forgot.”

“What?”

“Did he like peach iced tea?”

I gaped at him. How could he know that? “Yeah, it was his favorite.”

He shook his head. “That’s so weird.”

“Why?”

“Well, they say it’s a myth that when someone receives a transplant they take on some of the likes or dislikes of the donor. I asked the doctors about it, and they said there’s no real evidence that it happens. But I swear to you, before four years ago, I wouldn’t have touched peach iced tea. Now I get the weirdest cravings for it.”

I didn’t know why it was talking about peach iced tea that did it, but I couldn’t take any more. This man’s presence was too much. He was too big, too overwhelming. The ache in my chest was going to rip me open, letting my emotions spill out onto the floor. I couldn’t let that happen.

“I should probably go,” I said.

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “But wait one second? Please?”

He flagged down the waitress and asked for a pen and paper while I watched him, confused. The waitress fished a pen out of her apron and tore a piece of paper from her notepad. After writing something on the paper and folding it in half, he passed it to me.

“It’s my number,” he said. “Just in case.”

“Just in case, what?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But if you ever need anything, call me. I know, I live fifteen hundred miles away, and I’m a total stranger. I just feel like I need to do this. Take it. Please.”

His voice was so stern, so serious, I didn’t think I could refuse. Narrowing my eyes at him, I picked up the folded piece of paper and slipped it into my pocket. “Okay.”

“Thanks,” he said. “It was really nice meeting you, Brooke.”

He held my gaze and I found myself trapped by his mesmerizing eyes. Were they more green now? It was like their color had shifted. That tingle in my stomach was back and I had an almost overwhelming urge to reach out and press my palm against his chest.

I tore my eyes away and grabbed my bag. “Nice to meet you too.”

Shouldering my backpack, I hurried out the door. I had to get away from him. Away from those eyes. Away from the feelings that threatened to claw their way to the surface when I looked at him.

I couldn’t deal with all this emotion. I needed to be numb. Numbing myself against it all was the only way I could survive.