That’s when he realized Brynn was looking at him. Noticing him as a man, while still not recognizing him.
But he called bullshit on that. Maybe if they’d never become friends back then. Maybe if he hadn’t been the one she’d come to with that long-ago summer deal—she’d wanted her first kiss, the deal being that they never talk about it. Sold. It’d been his first kiss too, although he’d never told her that.
She was pretending not to remember him. Annoying, but this wasn’t about him. It was about Kinsey, and having her run into Brynn could be the very best thing to ever happen to her.
Brynn pulled free of her moms, her gaze still on him. “So, um . . . this is Eli, the very kind stranger who gave me the candy bar.”
Ha. Gotcha. “Not a stranger,” he said.
She actually stood there and tried to sell him on pretending to not understand. “Excuse me?” she asked.
Oh, she was good. But he was better. And there was no way in hell he was going to make this easy on her. “You introduced me by name.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Actually, honey, you did,” Raina said helpfully.
Brynn froze for a beat. Then winced before smoothing out her expression from oh, shit to dammit. “You told me what it was at the vending machine,” she said.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Fine. So I knew who you were.” She looked at her moms. “He’s from summer camp.”
“Oh, so he’s that Eli,” Olive said.
“Mom.”
That Eli. What did that mean, he wondered.
“It’s been a long time,” Brynn told him.
It had been. Fourteen years, in fact. He wasn’t big on coincidences, but if he had been, this one was too big to ignore. After all these years, to see her again, today of all days. It was surely a sign meant for Kinsey. Although he had zero idea how to get Kinsey that sign, except to stall. How long could it take her to get discharged and dressed? A long time, he knew. “So . . . what are you up to these days?” he asked, doing his part.
“Oh.” She shrugged. “A little of this and that. I just got back into town.”
“To stay?”
“I’m hoping.” She eyed her two moms, both of whom looked elated at this news. “I’ll need a teaching job and a place to live, but if that all pans out, then, yeah. To stay.”
“Honey, you don’t need a place to live,” Raina said. “We’ve still got your room.”
“What you’ve got is a shrine to a girl who doesn’t exist anymore. And I thought you were going to make it into an office slash workout room.”
“Well, it’s good we didn’t,” Olive said. “Or your bed would be a yoga mat.”
Eli laughed. He thought her family was . . . well, adorable. But Brynn didn’t seem amused. Instead, her eyes seemed oddly haunted, and it reached something inside him that he didn’t want it to. But it wasn’t that that made him speak. It was the fact that, if he couldn’t give Kinsey a kidney, he could do this. He could bring the two of them back into each other’s orbits, which might just be the thing to spark some life back into Kinsey or, at the very least, serve as a reminder that she wasn’t as alone as she thought. “I’ve got a room for rent,” he said.
Everyone stared at him. Raina, looking like she was sorry she’d been so nice. Olive, appraising him with cool eyes.
And Brynn . . . she bit her lower lip. “Here in Wildstone?”
Clearly he wasn’t getting enough oxygen to his brain, because manipulating Kinsey into this situation meant certain death. But that didn’t stop him. “Just outside of town, actually. Right off Beach Drive.”
“You live on the beach?” she asked.
“Across the street.”
“What do you mean exactly, a room for rent?” Olive wanted to know. “Are you looking for a roommate . . . with benefits?”
“Mom,” Brynn said, but then turned back to Eli. “Okay, yeah. What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” he said. “I’ve got a big, old house that costs a fortune to keep up.” It was the usual spiel when someone wanted to know something personal and he didn’t want to give it. Because the personal was . . . a little too personal. “So I have roommates.”
Brynn’s eyes held his, like she was searching for the real reason he’d offer such a thing.
“Honey.” Raina shook her head. “You need to be home, with us. You need some TLC, some good food, and rest.”
“Mom,” Brynn said softly, taking Raina’s hand and putting it to her own chest. “I love you. I love you both to the moon and back, but what I really need right now is to stand on my own two feet.” She looked at Eli. “But it’s also something I need to figure out how to do on my own. Thanks, though.”
“Just think about it,” he said.
She held his gaze for a long beat and then nodded.
He gave her his contact info, and, having no idea if he’d done the right thing or if he’d just made everything worse, he watched her walk out with her moms. He wanted this more than he should, but if he knew one thing about life, it was that what he wanted rarely mattered.
Chapter 4
From nine-year-old Kinsey’s summer camp journal:
Dear Journal,
I was told today that I need to write home at least once this week, but I hate home more than I hate you. My mom’s dumb. My mom’s boyfriend is dumb.
I wish a journal could drive so you could come get me.
I wish you were a real person.
Tonight we were given some writing time. I told the counselor I don’t see good at night, which my mom says is a genetic thing, but no one cares. Writing in a journal is dumb. So is the girl who sleeps next to me. She can’t see at night either, and pretends she has two moms. Who’d want two? Anyway, they send her presents, like food! It’s all dumb. Eli thinks I should stop saying everything’s dumb. He’s my best friend, but he’s also a boy, so he’s dumb too. Except he’s nice to me because his family is even awfuler than mine.
Kinsey
BRYNN SPENT THE next day attempting to get her life together. This involved applying for jobs—a good decision—and reliving all her recent mistakes—a bad decision. She held a brief pity party for one at McDonald’s, involving a Big Mac, large fries, and an M&Ms McFlurry. But then she forced herself to get on with it.
Except it turned out that rent in Wildstone was high and jobs were scarce. The only good thing was that the biggest employer in the county happened to be the school district. There were no openings at the moment, so she’d applied to be a substitute teacher. There were only four schools in the district: a high school, a middle school, and two elementary schools. She wanted high school. She’d suffer middle school if she had to, but in her mind, elementary school was out.
So, of course, that’s who called her, offering a position as a long-term kindergarten sub for a teacher going on maternity leave.
Pros: a paycheck.
Cons: good God . . . kindergarteners.
The paycheck won. For one thing, Brynn had fewer than zero pennies to her name, because along with losing all her self-esteem and self-trust, she’d also let Ashton rob her blind.