“You’re basically a reality star who doesn’t have a reality show or any discernable talents,” his brothers liked to joke. “Famous for being famous.”

He almost halted at the realization that Brian and Greg could be in the crowd, maybe even with their parents. All would be in the van with tinted windows they bought years ago, baseball caps pulled low, so as not to be recognized themselves. At the first sign of him, they’d practically burst into the trailer, regardless of how the media would swarm around them.

They wouldn’t bring Nanna and Roxy, though, as much as they’d want to come. That would be the equivalent of pouring gasoline on what promised to be a media dumpster fire.

Please let his family either be disconnected or completely unaware. Even if they wake up to the news, it was still at least a five-hour drive from Nashville. He had to get in, get out, and be long gone before they would arrive.

He rushed at a crouch. The cotton stretched to six feet, but he could still clear it with his height. He started moving through the rows, doing his best not to make the stalks completely shake. It was not out of the question to suspect that drones would be launched at daylight. He once opened his dorm room window only to hear the buzzing of a tricopter hovering outside.

It meant passing through row after row, holding the shafts to keep them from quivering too much, even if it meant scrapes from the bolls.

He finally emerged at the edge of the yard, where he could see the frame of the trailer outlined by the lights of the cameras. The farmer from whom he rented the place dumped it among the crops intentionally; he’d told his wife he needed a place for him and his workers to cool off in the worst of the summer heat. In reality, he’d moved his girlfriend in for lunchtime visits, until his wife one day showed up with Chinese takeout. Needing to make some extra money to pay alimony, he’d advertised for a renter.

The photographers’ lights were focused on the front of the trailer, leaving enough darkness in the back for him to slip through to reach the back door.

William fumbled with his keys, thankful for the landlord’s lack of interest in providing security or outdoor lighting.

He quietly closed the door and turned around to see a small shape sitting on the couch.

The lights from outside, set on stands to brighten the faces of the reporters preparing for the morning news, shone through the blinds to reveal a girl, her legs barely touching the floor. Her hair was done up in braids with white hair ties.

William gaped for a second. “How did you get in here?”

“Mr. Chance, please forgive the intrusion.”