He’s still a congressman—probably won re-election by playing the pity card. I wouldn’t be where I am now if it weren’t for him. Bile rises in my throat. I can play the blame game all I want, but the truth is I’m the reason I’m where I am today.
I don’t read his bio. I don’t need a recap of his life. I know exactly what it will say about him and me.
Next, I search for Dane and Angelina, my former best friends. I see a sorority picture of Angelina. She went to Tulane, like she’d planned. She looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Like she had no part in what happened. I often ask myself if I would have gone on with my life like nothing had happened if the tables were turned.
There’s no information on Dane, but Smith is a common last name. I pull the creased picture of the three of us out of my wallet—one of my few mementos of the past. I’d never been closer to two people. Man, that seems like forever ago.
There’s another picture in my wallet, and I want to look at it, but it’s too painful. Instead, I look at the inscription on the back. Kasey and me ~ August 3, 2018. I trace the letters of her name.
When I put it away, I see the slip of paper I tucked in there months ago. It’s Jill Benson’s phone number. She’s the only friend I’ve had these past few years, even if she was paid to be. I dial her number.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Jill. It’s Devyn. Devyn De—”
“Goodness. Devyn, it’s so nice to hear your voice. I was hoping you’d reach out to me. Is everything okay, dear?”
“Yes. That’s what I was calling to tell you. I have a job on a ranch. It’s nothing special, but it comes with a place to live.”
“I’m delighted. I knew you’d land on your feet.”
“How did you know?”
“Been doing this a long time, child.”
“Well, I don’t want to bother you. I just wanted you to know.”
“You could never be a bother. You call me anytime, you hear?”
“Thank you. Thank you for everything.”
I hang up. Then I type Aaron Pearce into the search field. He appears in a cap and gown. He graduated from Texas A&M just last year. He’s flanked by a beautiful woman and a very attractive man with the same black hair he has. Aaron really hit the jackpot in the looks department, and I can see why. I study his chiseled jawline, his infectious smile. The tiny creases by his eyes from squinting at the sun. I get all warm and tingly inside. It’s a feeling I haven’t had since Billy Minton and I went to third base after graduation. I might have even gone all the way with him had his mom not come home early and busted us in the basement. Two days later, Billy, along with everyone else, dropped me like a hot potato. No one wanted to be associated with Devyn DeMaggio. Not even Devyn DeMaggio.
The article talks more about his parents than Aaron. His dad is a famous photographer, and his mom runs a restaurant in New York City. I scroll through pictures and additional articles. His uncle is a movie producer, who is married to a bestselling author. He has another uncle who was MVP for the New York Giants some years ago. He comes from serious money, but he drives an old truck and lives in a one-room log cabin. It doesn’t quite add up.
A horn startles me. “You ready?” Aaron asks, leaning across the passenger seat.
I stash the phone, not wanting him to know what I was doing, and climb in. I catch my shoe on the running board and fall headfirst into the truck. The box I’m carrying pops opens, and to my horror, tampons land right in his lap.
He hands them to me without embarrassment. “I get now why you didn’t want me to do your shopping, but I would have gotten them for you, Devyn. It’s no big deal.”
“Said no guy I’ve ever met.” I grab the tampons and stuff everything back in the box.
“When I was a teenager, my mom punished me for disrespecting her by making me buy her a box of tampons. If she was in a really bad mood, she’d make me buy Vagisil, too.”
I can’t help but laugh, and it feels good. It makes me feel—I don’t know—free in some way.
“True story,” he says, laughing with me.
“I think I’d like your mom.”
“She’d love you,” he says, pulling away from the curb.
“What makes you say that? You don’t even know me.”
“Because she roots for the underdog.”
“Is that why you’re helping me? Because your mother forced you to buy tampons and likes underdogs?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe I want to do some good for once.”
I study his profile. Something about the way he said it makes me think he’s trying to make up for something bad. Or perhaps I’m just projecting.
“Who’s Reuben?” I ask.
“What makes you ask?”
“On your list you wrote apples for Reuben.”
“Reuben is a horse. He’s my favorite. He’s not mine, though. He’s Maddox’s. But Mad has a dozen horses, so he doesn’t care if I ride him. I can introduce you if you want.”
“To Maddox or Reuben?”
He laughs. I like his laugh. I like it even more than his smile.
“Both if you want.”
“What will you tell him?”
Aaron rolls his eyes. “He’s a horse, Devyn, he doesn’t understand English.”
I swat his arm. “I meant Maddox. What will you tell him about me? If he runs things, he’ll want to know. What if he won’t let me stay?”
“He doesn’t have a say in the matter. He may oversee the ranch, but I run the lodge. Plus, we’re not paying you. No money out of his pocket.”
“He’ll want to know my last name.”
He glances at me briefly. “He’s not the only one.”
I shake my head.
“So make one up, and we’ll go over to the main ranch on your next day off. You can meet Reuben, Maddox, and Owen, and anyone else who happens to be there. You’ll fit right in.”
“How do you know?”
“Because we’re all a bunch of misfits.”
“Now I’m a misfit?”
“Better than me calling you a thief.”
“I think I preferred ghost.”
He laughs again and butterflies take up residence in my stomach. We glance at each other, then back at the road. I get the idea working for Aaron Pearce might be very interesting.
Chapter Nine
Aaron
I can’t sleep, which makes no sense, as I’m back in my bed after the better part of a week on a couch. I can’t stop thinking about her. I couldn’t care less about her stealing food and shit. I’m more worried about her leaving.
She’s fully capable of working. Anyone would hire her on her appearance alone—she’s gorgeous if you can get past the sad, lost look in her eyes. She also seems smart, but she’s definitely hiding something. Is she running from someone and scared I might blow her cover? How long will it be before she gets spooked and runs off?
At three in the morning, I get up and pee. On my way back to bed, I stop at the window that offers me a view of the lodge in the moonlight. I look at it for a while, wondering if Devyn is finally getting a good night’s sleep.