Page 82 of Hollywood

He nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I need to be better.” He straightened in his seat. “And I can’t see Kit again.”

“Probably not a great idea,” I agreed.

Kit would probably want to rip his head off when he found out. In a small town like this, secrets wouldn’t keep forever. But I wasn’t about to kick Joyride while he was already down.

“Come on. Let’s hit a drive-thru and get crap food to make us feel better before I have to go to work.”

Joyride brightened. “Yeah? Can we get Zacos?”

“We sure can. We’ll pick some up for Tex, too.”

He sighed. “You’re lucky to have each other. For a second there, I thought…” His voice grew small. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I got off lucky in that accident. I’ve got no business moping because I can’t date Dakota’s brother.”

I snorted. “Is dating what you two were gonna do?”

His huffed a small laugh. “Shut up.”

“I know you liked Kit, but you’re young and hot. You’ll meet someone else.”

“You think?”

I pulled into the drive-thru lane behind two other cars despite the early hour. “There’s a reason Tex was jealous.”

“I guess.”

“But you’re not in a good place to meet someone. Not right now. Even if Kit wasn’t Dakota’s brother, you hate yourself too much to let anyone love you.”

He lowered his eyes and picked at a hole in the knee of his jeans. I worried I’d been too harsh, but he peeked up at me through a fringe of hair, wearing a sad smile.

“Thanks, Holly. That makes me feel a little better.”

“Better?” I said, surprised. “How?”

“Because even though it’s a shitty situation, you’re always honest with me. I like that you don’t sugarcoat it and tell me Kit would forgive me or that I don’t deserve this.”

“Well, I didn’t say you deserved it?—”

“I just mean, it’s easier, somehow, to talk about it honestly. Without you trying to make me feel better.”

“I understand. You don’t want sympathy. You made a terrible mistake, and you’re living with the consequences. That’s really all you can do.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

CHAPTER 18

Tex

I lifteda thirty-pound bag of potting soil. Before me, three trays awaited seedling transplants.

“I’m heading out,” Helena called.

I glanced at the wall clock. Only 9 p.m. That was early, even for Helena.

I lowered the bag of soil with a grunt. “What about the overnight packaging jobs?”

“You’re the employee of the month. You figure it out.”

She gave me a jaunty little wave and left out the back entrance.