Meg sat on the swing next to me, blinking. “Wait, he didn’t screw you?” Meg whispered like the idea itself would summon the devil.

“No.” I glanced across to the field, watching Noah and Bo pull green beans from the poles.

“You were gonna screw him?”

“I mean, maybe, I don’t know. I just…”

“And he didn’t?”

“Again, no!”

“Wow, maybe he does like you.” She deadpans. “Maybe I was wrong.”

“I told you he wasn’t as bad as you made him out to be.”

“Or… maybe he just had some kind of rash on his dick he didn’t want you to see. There’s always that.”

“And there’s that…” I rolled my eyes.

Noah dropped the basket to the ground and peeled his shirt over his head, his sweat-soaked shoulder muscles glistening in the bright afternoon sun.

Meg groaned. “Damn, he is nice to look at. I bet he pulls your hair.”

“Anyway…”

“You coming to Alan’s lake party for the 4th?”

“No.”

“That response was too quick.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“You didn’t even think about it.”

“There’s nothing to think about.”

“Come on, music and the pontoon boat.”

I glanced over at Momma sitting underneath the oak tree with a sun hat on, reading. “I can’t.”

Meg sighed.

“Meg…” I didn’t want to go over it again. I didn’t want to be around people. As bitter as it made me sound, it bothered me to be around other people’s happiness because all it did was remind me of everything I was losing.

“You can’t do this to yourself.”

“Since when have I liked parties?”

“It’s not about the party, it’s about living. It’s about taking a second to just breathe. Look, my mom ran herself ragged when my grandma fell ill. It took its toll on her. You know, she hasn’t always been an alcoholic. Your body needs a way to relax, and you’re not letting it, Hannah.”

I sighed, glancing back at Noah.

“Invite him.”

“Invite Noah?”

“Yeah, why not? If he makes you feel better, invite him.”

“Why do you force me to do things.”

“Well,” she smiled. “I always have…” That was true. Meg forced me to the Senior Prom, and into that dumb high school pageant. She was the one who had made me try sushi. “And I’m just trying to make sure I take care of you.” Exhaling, she placed her arm around me. “Look, you are doing everything you can for her, but you aren’t God. You have no control over what happens.”

That was a bitter pill to swallow, one I struggled with gravely.

“You need some level of sanity to your life,” Meg said.

I glanced over at her. “If you are my level of sanity, I’m in a load of trouble.”

“Nah”—she looked over my shoulder—“that one’s why you’re in a load of trouble.”

I turned around to see Noah walking up to the porch with the basket tucked under his tattooed arm. No shirt. Abs on full display. In an effort to maintain a shred of dignity, I fought the smile tearing at my lips.

He dropped the basket filled with green beans onto the bottom step, then rubbed the sweat from his brow with his forearm. “You busy tonight?” he asked.

I remembered kissing him the night before, the way the stubble on his face made my lips burn, the way my stomach clenched when he settled between my thighs. “Maybe…”

“You’re not.”

I shrugged.

“I told my grandma I’d bring you over for dinner.”

“How very presumptuous of you,” I said.

“Maybe… I’ll be here around six.” Those dimples popped before he walked back out to the field.

“That easy, huh?” Meg asked. “I sit here and guilt you into hanging out with me, and Mr. Fucking Dimples just waltzes up and says he’ll pick you up at six.” She shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

For some reason, I was nervous about going to dinner at his grandma’s. I tried on four different outfits. A sundress. A maxi dress—too dressy. Shorts that were too short. I finally decided on a pair of jeans, a tank top, and my Converse.

When I came downstairs, Daddy was in the kitchen, shoving his wallet in his back pocket.

“Where are you going?”

“Church,” he said.

God, it was Sunday night, wasn’t it?

“Oh…” I couldn’t leave Momma.

Daddy glanced at me. “You got plans, baby girl?”

“I was just going to dinner.”

“Good, it’s good for you to get out.” He smiled and grabbed his keys from the counter.

“Maybe I shouldn’t…”

“You are not staying here on my account!” Momma’s voice came from the front room, and Daddy arched his brow before kissing my forehead and making his way down the hall.

I heard him tell Momma goodbye before the front door opened and closed. “You better go do whatever it was you were gonna do,” Momma said before I heard the beginning notes of “Für Elise”. I walked down the hall, holding onto the doorframe as I peeked around the corner into the formal living room. Momma sat proudly at the piano, her fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys. She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

I went and sat next to her like I used to do as a little girl.

“Hannah…” The music stopped, and she dropped her hands to her lap. “I feel fine. Please don’t make me feel guilty.”

Guilty? How could I make her feel guilty? “I just want to make sure someone’s here if you need them.”

“Your brother’s in his room.”

“With his headphones in or asleep.”

“I’m alright today.” She squeezed my hand. “I know you love me, and I love you too, which is why I want you to live your life. Okay?”

I inhaled just as the doorbell rang. Momma’s brow wrinkled. “Since when has Meg rang the doorbell?”

“It’s not Meg.”

“Oh, really?” Momma smiled before straightening the scarf on her head. “Is it that boy?”

My cheeks warmed a little. “Yes.”

“I figured. Your momma can always tell.” She patted my leg. “He’s a sweet boy. Go enjoy yourself.”

“Shit,” Noah said.

“What?”

He snatched the keys from the ignition, hopped out, and hurried to my side to open my door. “It’s six thirty-five.”

“Yeah…”

“Grandma’s a stickler for being on time. And we’re five minutes late.”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little as I followed him to the front of the house and through the door. The smell of fried chicken filled the air along with the sizzling and popping of the grease in the kitchen.

“God,” he sighed as he closed the door. “I love that smell… Grandma, we’re—”

“Late!” She popped around the corner, shaking a pair of tongs at him before glancing at me and smiling. “Nice to see you, dear.”

“Nice to see you, too, Ms. Greyson.”

“Doris. Call me Doris.”

I nodded, and she disappeared back into the kitchen. Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m gonna go see if I can help her.” He arched a brow, a devious smirk playing on his lips.

“Alright…”

Smiling, I waltzed right into the kitchen. Doris had a hand mixer going full force, bits of potatoes flying out left and right. The motor quieted and she tossed the mixer on the counter before grabbing a dishtowel.

“He’s always late. Always,” she muttered before spinning around to face me. “I raised him better than that. And he better be treatin’ you like a lady, opening doors and whatnot.”

“He is.”

She grinned. “He likes you.” She shuffled past me and set the bowl of steaming potatoes on the counter before grabbing a boiling pot of green beans. “But mind you, Noah ain’t never been in a committed relationship. Boy struggles with commitment. I blame his parents for that one.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just reached for the stack of plates on the end of the kitchen island. Thwap! She swatted me with the dishtowel. “Get on, now. You’re a guest, ain’t having none of my visitors setting out plates.”

Noah laughed from the dining room.

“Now, you’re a different story.” She arched an eyebrow before shooing me through the doorway. “Noah, you can get your tail on in here and help me.”

A smug smile spread over his lips. “You come around a few more times, she’ll have you helping out, don’t worry.” He squeezed my shoulder as he passed behind me and stepped into the kitchen.

I sat at the table, staring at the curio cabinet in the corner filled with figurines of clowns while Noah and his grandmother bustled around in the kitchen. There must have been fifty clowns in there, and the longer I stared, the painted-on smiles seemed to grow more sinister. I never understood why people thought those things were cute. They are horrifying.

“Creepy as hell, huh?”

I jumped in surprise at the sudden sound of Noah’s voice.

“Stop that swearing, boy!” his grandma shouted.

He placed the mashed potatoes on the table. “Sweet tea?”

“Water’s fine.”

“Shit…” he said, walking back into the kitchen.

“Boy!” There was a whack, I assumed from his grandma smacking him with the dishtowel.

“Well, Grandma, she just said no to sweet tea. That’s a serious offense.”

She stepped into the dining room, setting a basket of greasy fried chicken next to an old Pyrex filled with green beans and snap peas. “I didn’t pray for him as a child, I guess that’s my fault.” She pulled out a chair and flopped down with a loud exhale. “Wooh, it ain’t getting no easier.”

Noah set the plates out along with a pile of fresh cornbread before he took a seat next to me.

“Alright,” she huffed, dotting her forehead with a napkin. “Let us pray.” She bowed her head and immediately glared up at Noah. “And close your eyes to make good for the preacher’s child, would you?” We closed our eyes. “Dear Graciously Heavenly Father, we thank you for this day, for the food which you’ve prepared before us. We thank you for Noah and Hannah, may she lead him to your glorious salvation because we all know he’s a little troubled. We give thanks for Ms. Thompson, even if she’s nosier than a two-headed woodpecker. And thank you for that new stray cat, Mr. Jiggles, he’s really helped with all the field mice that like to get in my pantry and eat my Little Debbie Cakes. May we continue to be a blessing unto you and do you right proud. And please, when my time comes, let me go in my sleep. Don’t make me suffer. Amen.” We went to open our eyes. “Oh, and thank you for Alabama football and bless Mr. Coach Saban, would you kindly? Amen. Again.”

Noah leaned over. “She always prays for Nick Saban, even when she forgets to pray for me.”

“I take my football very seriously,” she said, reaching for the cornbread. “So, let’s just get this outta the way, Miss Hannah. Roll Tide or War Eagle?”

“Don’t say you don’t care,” Noah whispered. “That’s worse than saying you’re for Auburn.”

“Uh, Roll Tide…”

She lifted her hands in the air and clapped. “This is gonna work out just fine then.”

After dinner, Noah cleared the table and we played a few rounds of poker, Doris winning every single hand. By the time we left, Noah owed her two days of Sunday school and a steak dinner.

Doris held the door open, the humid air creeping in and sticking to my skin like a fine mist. “It was mighty fine of you to humor an old lady and have dinner with her.”

“Well, thank you so much for the invitation. Hands down, the best fried chicken I’ve ever had.”

She patted my back.

“Love you, Grandma,” Noah said, leaning down and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll come by and see you tomorrow.”

“Alright then.” And with that, she shut the door.

We climbed into Noah’s truck and he cranked the engine before adjusting the mirrors and glancing over at me. He patted the middle seat. “Don’t stay all the way over there.”

There went that flittery-fluttery feeling in my chest. Something so simple shouldn’t have had the effect it did. I unfastened my seatbelt and scooted across next to him. Smiling, he brushed his fingers over my cheek and gave me a soft kiss before putting the car in reverse. “Stay with me,” he whispered. “Please. Just for tonight, don’t leave me.”

There seemed to be so much more to that request, something desperate and utterly innocent.

“I just want to sleep next to you and hold you.”

“Okay,” I breathed.

How can you tell the bad boy who’s not really bad no? You can’t. You really, really can’t.