Chapter 11
Tenny
I’m a little too hyper as I pull Alex through the aisles, cracking jokes and suggesting inappropriate food items for our dinner. There’s a voice in the back of my head telling me to bring it down a notch, but Alex keeps giving me indulgent smiles peppered with the occasional playful eye roll.
She doesn’t even hurry me in the nut aisle when I insist on reading the back of four containers of unsalted cashews, determining which is the best option.
“I didn’t know you were so particular about food. Rumor is, you have quite the sweet tooth.”
I shrug, dropping the organic, fair-trade nuts in the basket. “I do, but I try to balance it out with good choices elsewhere. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have the ab definition you were so distracted by earlier.”
Alex shoves me in the arm before stomping down the aisle, my laugh tumbling after her.
Once we’re at the checkout, disappointment drops in my chest. I have a ritual when shopping by myself, but with Alex with me, I’ll have to forgo it this time. I wouldn’t want her to think I was doing it for show.
Then, I get lucky when Alex has to step away for a call right before we get to the cashier. Grabbing a gift card for the grocery store, I hand it to the cashier whose nametag reads Beckett.
“Hey, Beckett. I need you to help me out with something,” I lean in, lowering my voice. “I want to add money to this for the family behind me. Can you give it to them once I’m gone?”
The teenager with one earbud in bounces a shoulder before scanning the barcode. “Sure. Whatever. How much do you want on it?”
“What’s the upper limit?”
“Five hundred, I think?”
“Then do that.”
The teen chokes on his gum, hitting his chest with his fist.
“Okay, uh...” His cheeks flush crimson as he keys in the total and sets the card beside the register. “Is there… It’s just… Can— Can I have one?”
“If you need it.” I hand him another card.
“Really?” The immediate sheen covering his eyes makes mine mist in response.
“Sure. No problem.”
He bites his lip, keying in the total with shaking fingers before tucking it in the back pocket of his pants. “Thanks. It’ll really help my mom out. My dad’s not really…”
My heart thuds heavily in my chest as I try to keep it together. “Been there. Just keep your head up. It’ll get better.”
His eyes catch mine again, hopeful this time. “Yeah?”
I nod, fighting the impulse to lean over the counter and wrap this boy in a hug. I allow myself a hearty shoulder pat instead. “It will.”
Beckett nods at the scanner before quickly ringing up the rest of the items.
When he thanks me again while handing me my receipt, I can’t help giving his forearm a quick squeeze. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
He nods, drawing in a deep breath.
“What was that about?” Alex asks as she hangs up her call.
“Oh, nothing. Just a fan.”
“But you have your disguise on.”
I run my hand over my jaw, genuinely surprised to find my fake beard there.
“Kids these days,” I say, trying to make my voice light and jokey but not quite succeeding. “They see right through my shenanigans.”
Alex makes a noncommittal sound as we exit, but I can tell she hasn’t let it go. Her intuitive gaze feels like a laser beam on the side of my face.
I clear my throat. “Who was on the phone?”
Alex drops her head back with a groan. “My sister. Delighted over my life becoming immensely more complicated, thanks to our fake relationship.”
“Let me guess. She said something about you suffering the consequences of your own actions.”
“She did!” Alex says, her face lighting up. “She was unjustly smug.”
I bump her with my shoulder. “I get it. I have an older sister too.”
“Amelia thinks I should tell Mags the truth.”
“I’d support you if you wanted to,” I say as nonchalantly as I can.
Would I prefer to continue this ruse until I eventually win Alex’s heart?
Absolutely.
Do I want to cause her undue duress while achieving my goal?
Heck no.
Alex runs her fingers through her long hair, fisting it at the nape of her neck. “No. We’ve already come this far. Better to get through dinner, and then after Mags is back home, I’ll tell her it didn’t work out.”
I nod, opening the back passenger door for her and holding out my palm. Alex only eyes it for half a second before accepting my help. Once she’s in her seat, I hand her the clamshell of raspberries she kept staring at while we were in the produce section.
“Could you see if these are any good? I’m terrible at picking them.”
Before Alex can argue, I close her door, stow the rest of the groceries in the back, and hop onto the driver’s seat while giving Mags her cashews.
While both ladies munch on their snacks, I turn on Alex’s seat warmer from my control panel.
I caught her massaging her lower back twice when she didn’t think I was paying attention.
Joke’s on Alex.
I can’t seem to pull my focus away from her.
With the two of them gabbing away about some wayward uncle, my mind drifts back to Beckett.
Regret sours my stomach as I turn onto a neighborhood street.
I should have given into the impulse to yank the entire sleeve of gift cards off the rack and load them up for him.
After all, what good is a thirty-million-dollar contract if you don’t give back?
My agent would argue that I donate too much of my salary to non-profits, but it’s something I feel passionate about.
Because I remember being a kid and doing everything I could to help out my mom because my dad had—once again—gone off on some adventure, convinced that this new scheme would solve all our money problems. He never seemed to realize that he was the one causing them.
My father dragged us all over the country, chasing the next big thing.
Arizona was five when Momma finally put her foot down.
We’d been living in Medford at the time, and I’d spent my entire summer convincing our neighbors to let me mow their lawns to scrounge up some extra money.
I came home covered in dirt and grass cuttings after mowing six lawns in a row, proudly presenting my sweaty wad of cash to Momma once she’d gotten home from working at the daycare center.
I thought she’d be so happy, because it was the most I’d ever made in a day, but she’d burst into tears.
My older sister, Georgia, who’d just finished making dinner, quickly hid her babysitting money behind her back.
“I’m sorry, Momma.” My chin hits my chest as my cheeks flare hot. “I was just trying to help.”
She drops to her knees, her cool fingers framing my face until I meet her gaze.
“Tenny, no. That’s why I’m upset. I’m so grateful for you”—she reaches to clasp Georgia’s hand—“and you, sweetpeach. I’m crying because you’re only eleven.
You’re supposed to be playing, not working all day.
Georgia should be riding bikes with friends and crushing on boys—”
“Gross,” my sister says with a teenage scoff.
Momma’s bursting laugh suddenly makes the room lighter. When Arizona lunges to hug our mother, Georgia and I quickly follow suit.
“It’s going to get better,” she whispers, rocking us gently. “I promise.”
After the divorce, we moved back to Arizona—just the four of us.
Georgia and I still helped out, but Momma insisted we also start after-school activities.
In the dry heat of a spring afternoon, I fell in love with baseball.
Georgia quickly became the lead in almost every school play.
And Arizona barely has any memories of the man who made the rest of us miserable.
I make the final turn around a cactus-laden roundabout, and the corner of my mouth kicks up, because standing in the driveway is a man who absolutely made a positive impact in my life—my middle school baseball coach.
Unlike other players who prefer a palatial desert home for their six-week stay, I like to rent out the backyard casita on Randy’s property.
Though…
He’s not supposed to be home tonight. He’d told me yesterday that he was taking his wife, Teresa, out for dinner. That’s why I thought it would be okay to bring Alex and Mags here for a secluded evening.
Alex tenses as we inch closer to Randy. “Babe?”
I hear Alex’s unspoken questions: Who is this guy? Why is he waving at us? Why is his bald head so shiny?
Okay…maybe she didn’t ask the last one, but as a tween, I often wondered if he polished his scalp for maximum shine. You could use Coach Randy’s head and a magnifying glass and do some real damage in this arid climate.
I pull the truck into my temporary parking spot and rotate to catch Alex’s gaze. “Good thing you love surprises, sugarlove.”