With his giant paw, he swipes a sample of banana bread from the table and heads right toward me. A whoosh of air hits my skin as he passes by, angry scowl still plastered on his face. No eye contact, no “excuse me.” Just him walking right past me—right through me—as if I don’t even exist.

The gesture lands like a punch to the gut. He’s strong, unflappable, no-nonsense. I’m weak and pathetic, desperate for an empty gesture of kindness.

I ignore the ache in my chest and trudge ahead, weaving through the crowd on my way back to my car in the parking lot. Finn was probably just trying to be nice, to help me feel better after spending the past few weeks watching his older brother behave like an unconscionable dick.

Callum hates plenty of people. But you’re not one of them.

A well-meaning lie, but a lie nonetheless.

Chapter 6

I plop down in the driver’s seat of my car, shove the key in the ignition, and hear nothing but a faint clinking noise. My heart drops, and my palms sweat. I know what this means, but this cannot happen. Not now. Not when I’ve just begun to make decent money. I’ve got a razor-thin budget and no room for emergency expenses.

I turn the key in the ignition over and over in direct opposition to all logic. Still nothing.

I punch the steering wheel. A group of people walking toward the farmer’s market turn their confused glances at me. I lift my hand, my face hot, and mouth, “Sorry.” They just frown. I don’t blame them. I’d be confused, too, if I were them and saw someone pummeling their steering wheel. But right now I’m me, and the only thing I’m feeling is frustration because the battery in the ten-year-old used car I share with Mom has decided to die on my one day off this week—the day I was planning to run a list of errands so that the rest of my week could pass by smoothly.

Gripping both hands on the steering wheel, I lower my face to the center, forcing myself to breathe deeply. The slow, even rhythm is in stark contrast to the frenzy of worried thoughts making a mess of my brain.

Dead car battery means I have to call roadside service or Uber home if no one is available. I’ll probably have to replace the battery, maybe even the alternator, too, if that’s the root of the problem. So instead of running to the grocery store and testing out recipes at home like I planned to do today, I’ll be stuck at a body shop, scrambling to find places in my budget I can pull from to pay for this surprise car repair.