Page 59 of Maybe You

“I didn’t.” I pause for a second. “At first. Then he started talking about it being secret ancient Hawaiian wisdom, and that’s what became the real selling point for me, because it turned out I’d always been a big proponent of ancient, secret wisdom being bestowed upon me. The almost drowning bit was just a fun bonus. Go ahead. You can laugh now.”

But he doesn’t. He just smiles.

“Cute,” he says softly.

And my whole face heats.

“I bet your parents weren’t happy with that kid when they found out,” he says.

“It’s just my mom. I don’t think she ever found out about it, to be honest.”

He sends me a curious look. “How come?”

I shake my head and slide my hand through his hair again.

“My mother has spent her whole life determined to become a famous actress, so my sister and I spent a lot of my childhood staying with whichever relative offered to take us in while she was off auditioning for roles and waiting for her big break.”

“Did she get it?”

“She’s in one of those daytime soap operas. Has been for the past fifteen years or so.”

“They still make those?”

“There are, like, four left, I think. She’s in the hospital one, and let me tell you, she’s got a lot going on in that. Last I heard she’s been in a coma twice, has had amnesia, has been buried alive, and has been part of a hostage crisis not once, not twice, but three times.”

He hums, and I don’t know if he even realizes he’s doing it, but he wiggles closer until the top of his head is pressed against my thigh.

“Did you grow up in New York?” he asks.

“Mostly. There were occasional stints with different relatives and friends here and there when Mom scored a role and filming took place somewhere else. By the time I was twelve or so, my sister was almost sixteen, so we managed on our own.”

“Your mom just let you live on your own?” he asks.

“She left home when she was fourteen herself.” I shrug. “We’ve never been a traditional family, exactly.”

He studies me with a quizzical expression.

“Are you and your sister close?”

“Pretty close, yeah. I don’t see her a lot these days. She lives in San Francisco. She’s always been very ambitious, so she’s busy, but we call and message, and she visits every few months.”

He’s silent after that, but he keeps his gaze on me the whole time, until I gently tug at a strand of his hair.

“What?” I ask with a laugh.

He chews on his words for a bit.

“You’re an open book,” he says, then.

I blink at the assessment.

“Am I?”

I’ve never considered myself one. Then again, maybe it’s just that I’m so busy guarding that one secret. Everything else feels relatively mundane compared to being covered in burn scars.

Sutton’s brows furrow like he finds the honesty somehow strange. Maybe it’s too much. This is supposed to be a one-night thing, after all. A favor. And so far, I’m not living up to my end of the bargain at all. There’s no sex, and I’m going on and on about my personal life while he was very clear about the fact that he’s not interested in it when we met. He asked, true, but that might’ve been just him being polite or something.

I remove my hand from his hair and sit up straighter.

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