“He just wants to hang out,” I said. “He’s not heartbroken or anything.”

“If you don’t like him, why do you look like you’re dying to giggle like a schoolgirl?” Chuck wiped his sweaty brow with his forearm.

“He’s from Eakins,” I said simply.

“Eakins? Like Eakins, Illinois, Eakins?”

“Yes.” I bit my lip.

“Does he know?”

“No, he doesn’t know. Phaedra asked the same thing. Why would I suddenly start telling everyone?”

Chuck shrugged. “Just asking. You know, Falyn … I’ve offered before—”

“No, Chuck. You’re not paying my way to Eakins. You already do too much.”

“How much money do you need? Can’t be much more now?”

“Nope. I’m almost there. Every time I’ve gotten close, something’s come up.”

“Like when you helped Pete buy tires?”

“Yep.”

“And when you paid that ticket for Kirby?”

“Yep.”

“And when you got sick a couple of years ago?”

“That, too.”

“Are you still paying on that hospital bill?”

“No, I paid it off a few months ago. Thank you.”

“You should let us help, Falyn. You’ve helped people, and this is important.”

“Yes, it is. That’s why I have to do it on my own.”

I looked at table three. Taylor glanced over at me, and we locked eyes for a moment.

“Or at least, mostly on my own.”

Chuck busied himself again with the soup. “That is going to be one pissed off young man when he figures out what you’re doing.”

My chest sank in. “I already feel bad enough.”

“Good. At least you still have a conscience.”

I looked down at my feet, feeling worse by the second. The high I’d felt moments before was completely replaced with guilt. “Did Phaedra go to the back?” I asked.

He nodded. “She’s making cheesecakes.”

“Oh,” I said, knowing it would be a while before I saw her.

The Delaneys waved to Kirby as they gathered their children to leave. Marie carried the twins’ carriers, so John could handle their toddler. The girl was being carried over John’s shoulder, her little feet kicking wildly as she screamed.

“Whew,” Hannah said. “I’m adopting a ten-year-old.”

I watched as the Delaneys walked out to their car, parked in one of the angled spaces in front of the Bucksaw. The father fought to get his daughter into her car seat, alternately pleading with her and then scolding her.

“Yeah,” I said, distracted.

John secured the girl and then patted his own jeans, saying something to his wife before returning to the bar.

He stopped just in front of me, leaning in. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “She asked why we never come in here anymore. I’ll try not to come back.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine. I understand.”

“I’m truly sorry, Falyn. For everything,” he said again, pulling his wallet from his pocket before jogging outside.