“ ‘Great,’ ” she corrected. “I said you were great up close.”

He turned, his eyes burning into hers.

“Did someone say you were better from a distance?” she asked.

He leaned back, turning his gaze to the empty field on the other side of the truck. “A girlfriend mentioned something about that once. But I already knew it, even before she said it. I could tell by the way people interacted with me, how they had all these preconceived notions about me from reading articles about my family or from the tabloids. They’d already created a version of me in their heads, and it didn’t match the reality.”

“Who do they think you are?”

“Fun. Everyone thinks I’m a nonstop party. And I’m sure they thought I was a spoiled rich kid, which was true. That was fair. But I started noticing that people didn’t want to be around me for the harder stuff. They didn’t know what to do if I was sad or angry or just having a bad day. I was Good Times Lennon. They didn’t want to hang out with the guy the day after the party, who just got dumped by his girlfriend.” He glanced at Maisie, an embarrassed expression crossing his face. “I’m sorry. I sound like such a whiner. Forget I said any of that.”

“No.” She put a hand on his arm. “You don’t sound like a whiner. That actually sounds kind of terrible, to have everyone think they know everything about you from a few pictures and articles.”

His eyebrows drew together. “Isn’t it sort of the same for you, though?”

“How so?”

“People must make assumptions about you because of your father. I did, a little.” His expression was apologetic. “And you said it yourself. Your dad didn’t think you were tough enough. There was automatically an assumption that you were supposed to be like him.”

“Oh.” She’d never thought of it like that. “I guess so.”

“And…forgive me if I’m overstepping here.” He hesitated, but she squeezed his arm, letting him know it was okay to overstep. It didn’t feel like there was anything he could say right now that wasn’t okay. “People must have wondered—I wondered—what it was like to grow up with a father who was so notoriously brutal. What kind of person that made you.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, considering that for a moment. “Declan used to tell me all the time that I needed to be more of a ‘badass bitch.’ He’d always say, ‘I thought you were your father’s daughter. I thought you were more than this.’ ”

“Every time I learn something new about his guy I hate him more,” Lennon said.

“Yeah,” she said dryly.

The truck came to a stop, and she twisted around to see that they were in an empty parking lot in front of a church.

She started to drop her hand from Lennon’s arm, but he grabbed it, lacing their fingers together.

“I think you’re pretty great close up too,” he said softly. “You don’t need to be more of anything.”