She leaned over, resting her forearms on the door and all but stuck her head in the car, speaking directly to my left side. Avery was a few years older than me and had two kids, one of them less than a year ago, but with those freckles and warm brown eyes, she still managed to look like she was barely in her twenties. “So, whatcha doing?”

I glanced from her to the windshield and then back again. “Um, I was . . . thinking.”

“Uh-huh.” Avery smiled a little. “Do you think you’ll be done doing that anytime soon?”

“I don’t know,” I murmured, feeling my cheeks heat.

“The waitress just took our drink orders. I got you a Coke,” she offered. “Not diet. I’m hoping you’ll join us before we order appetizers, because Cam is talking soccer and you know how my attention span is when he starts talking soccer.”

The right corner of my mouth curved up a little. Cam had played pro soccer for several years. Now he’d moved onto coaching at Shepherd, which meant he got to be home way more often. “I’m sorry to leave you hanging like that. I wasn’t going to bail.”

“I didn’t think you would, but I figured you might need a little coaxing.”

Peeking up at her again, the small half-smile slipped from my face. Letting Avery talk me into this was also a part of the whole getting out there and living again thing, but this also wasn’t easy. “Does . . . does he know about . . . ?” I gestured at my face.

A soft look crept onto Avery’s face as she reached inside and patted my arm. I was back to gripping the steering wheel like a freak. She nodded. “Cam hasn’t gone into detail, of course, because that’s not our story to tell, but Grady knows enough.”

Meaning he wouldn’t have that “WTF” expression on his face when he saw me.

Granted, he probably would still have that expression at some point. From a distance, there didn’t appear to be anything off about me. It was upon closer inspection that my face just didn’t add up.

And that’s what I was dreading about tonight, what I dreaded whenever I met anyone for the first time. Some people just blurted it out, having absolutely no care if the question embarrassed or bothered me, or made me think of a night I’d rather forget for a multitude of reasons. Even if they didn’t ask what happened to my face, they were thinking it, because I would think it too. Didn’t make them terrible people. It just made them people.