Page 13 of The Art of Us

“You never asked her?”

Her shoulders, which had been relaxed, suddenly tightened. “Never had the chance. She bailed even before I was walking. I haven’t seen her since. Wouldn’t even know how to find her.”

Kal’s brown eyes filled with compassion. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

She shrugged again. “No big deal. I don’t remember her enough to miss her.”

“And your dad?”

His question sent a wave of panic through her. Did he have to be prying into her world like it was any of his business? But he looked at her like he really cared. Like he wasn’t intruding on her life—just trying to understand it. “Dad and I were on our own—just the two of us after Mom left.” It was the truth. Not the whole truth. But enough.

“So you can ask him why you’re named Ireland.”

“Right.” Ireland forced a smile. “I’ll ask him next time I see him.” All these questions ... no one told her there would be questions. She glanced at the Coca-Cola clock on the wall. “It’s getting late. I should get going. Thanks for inviting me. I loved hearing you play. And thanks for dinner.”

She stood to go, but Kal stopped her by placing his hand gently over hers. Her heart stuttered to a brief but abrupt stop as she stared at his hand warm on hers, tethering her in the smallest way to him. She wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like. It wasn’t exactly a bad sensation. No. Definitely not bad. But it made her feel like her skin was suddenly too tight and that the room had become too warm.

“Why don’t you take the pizza home for you and your dad?” he said.

“You don’t want any?” She hated how her heart not only started beating again but that it was now jackhammering against her ribs with the hope of taking back such a haul.

“I eat a lot of pizza. I’m kinda over it.”

She glanced at the practically untouched pizzas and hoped the need wasn’t visible in her eyes. “If you’re sure ...”

“Yep. Lemme get you some to-go boxes.” He left and returned a few minutes later with two boxes and a plastic bag with something heavy-ish in it. “The guys in back said these two take-out salads were paid for but never picked up. He asked if I’d take them, but I’m not really a salad guy. Do you want them?”

“Sure.” She tried to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, but vegetation? Something healthy? The good luck was dizzying.

They boxed up the pizza, and then Kal loaded her arms with the food while he asked, “Did you drive here?”

“No, I walked.”

“Oh, well, lemme drive you home then.”

“No!”

His eyes widened in surprise at her abrupt response.

“I mean that I like walking. And it isn’t far.”

“But ...” He glanced meaningfully at the boxes and the bag.

She laughed. “It’s not like it’s heavy or even awkward.”

He opened his mouth, likely to protest, except at that moment a guy who looked like the manager called his name and waved him over. Kal made a noise that sounded like a low growl of frustration but said, “I’ll be right back.”

Once his back was turned, Ireland inched toward the door. When she reached it, she tugged on the handle and fled the restaurant.

“I’m stupid to have run away,” she said out loud when she made it to the edge of the woods. But what else could she do? It wasn’t like she could let him drive her to a public bathroom in the woods. And Kal Ellis didn’t seem like the type of guy to let her walk. Fleeing had been her only legitimate option.

As she moved down the trail, she considered the amount of food she had and wondered how to keep it from attracting animals, specifically the bears. She’d never returned with enough to last beyond the next meal. This was an entire weekend’s worth. How did she keep it from going bad even if the animals stayed out of it?

She wished she could afford a small cooler, but even if she had the money, she had nowhere to store it. She’d have to eat what she could and throw the rest out. She should have consideredthis dilemma before she loaded up the boxes. Kal was likely just being nice when he’d said he was over pizza.

“Who is ever over pizza?” she asked out loud. He would have taken it if she hadn’t. She was a greedy, grubby-handedtaker.

She sighed at that. She had never wanted to be a taker. She had never wanted to be like her dad.

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