Back at Pine City, everyone could be there—Jack and Marlin, Jes and Tyler. Maybe even Jack’s beautiful family, maybe even their friends. I didn’t want to see them. Some random painter. I couldn’t bear the humiliation of it all.

Dizzy, I climbed in my truck and drove to the Stewart’s in Union Vale for snacks. The clerk, the same woman who had kindly told me about the paint on my nose the day I’d first run into Max, stared at me with open confusion as I walked around the store, ripping hungrily into a bag of chips as I filled my arms with a case of seltzer, assorted snacks, cheap toiletries, and a promotional t-shirt three sizes too big that read ROOT BEER FOR LIFE. I smiled at her sunnily, ambling around the aisles on my blackened bare feet, dirty fingernails and paint-covered arms shoving a credit card into the reader while she bagged up my purchases.

It failed. She turned the machine around and punched in a code.

“I have to cut this up,” she said.

I nodded agreeably and rooted through my pockets until I found another, handed it to her, and crossed my fingers behind my back.

“You okay, honey?” she asked as the machine dialed. Concern shading her face, she handed me a pair of flip-flops. “Take these. On the house.”

“I’m fudging great,” I said, popping a potato chip into my mouth and stepping into the sandals. “Everything is great.” The machine blinked APPROVED. I signed the credit slip with a flourish and skipped back to the truck. She watched me through the window, biting her lip, hand on her cheek.

At the studio I showered with the hose in the driveway and washed my clothes with a bar of soap, painting in the root beer t-shirt until they were dry.