Nick was nine years old, the teacher shaking her head at him. Didn’t you read the book, Nicholas? Or can’t you read? The other kids laughing. He had read it. He had sat down with it every day after school that week. It was just that the letters flipped and flopped on the page. Bs were Ds. Os were Es or Cs. They squeezed together and drifted apart; they gave him a headache instead of a story.

“I’ll take a paper cup then. Don’t tell me you don’t have paper? That you’re a paper-free café?” he said, aware that he was only making things worse—but what was he supposed to do? If he didn’t have a mug and she wouldn’t sell him a mug, what did she want him to do? Hold out his cupped hands?

Lucy filled a cup with the hot chocolate and pushed it toward him. He didn’t dare ask for a lid.

Back on the porch, Nick untied Rex, who was grateful, beyond grateful—then, beyond even that when Nick gave him his fancy biscuit. He ate it in one enormous bite. “Know how much that thing set me back? Five fifty. Five fuckin’ fifty.”

Why not talk to the dog? No one wanted to talk to him, that was for sure. Nor he to them. Nor he to them.

He scratched the sweet spot under Rex’s chin. Rex’s eyelashes fluttered and he leaned into Nick’s leg, sinking into a pool at his feet, as if Nick’s scratching were a drug that he craved, that only Nick could provide—which made him feel maybe as good as Rex did. “Good boy. Good puppy.”

He breathed in the lemony smell of his muffin, then took a bite. It was possibly the best muffin he’d ever tasted. This irritated him. He wanted to hate it, just like the town hated him. Why did everyone blame him for everything? Why was his lawn sign bad and Ted Miller’s good? Why were all the editorials in the crappy little town newsletter against him? Why did everyone assume he was behind every lousy thing that went wrong in Willard Park? Why, why, why?

He took another bite of muffin, chewing slowly, isolating the ingredients on his tongue: the tang of the lemon zest, the minuscule snap of the poppy seeds. It was very moist, but not oily.