FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
Faith always got a burger at lunch. It was her lone act of defiance in an otherwise obedient life. Her mom was always nagging her to watch her calories, so at lunch she ordered a hamburger, cut it into precise quarters, ate one, and threw the rest away.
Then one afternoon, someone new was sitting at the lunch table with Thea and the guy she was seeing.
“Faithy, this is Leo. He and Sam are buddies.”
Faith smiled at the boy sitting across from her. He frowned back, looking ready to bolt from the table. But his hungry eyes tracked her movements as she dissected her burger with two neat slices. While she, Thea, and Sam had trays full of food, the table in front of Leo was empty.
“Are you not eating?” Faith asked. Thea and Sam were arguing about weekend plans, leaving her to make conversation with this stranger who seemed to be all bones and thick black hair.
His wary eyes bounced up from her food to take in her face. “Nah. Forgot my lunch money.” His gaze immediately dropped back to her plate.
“Here.” She slid her allotted burger quarter onto a napkin and pushed the plate with the other three-quarters in front of him. “I was going to throw this out anyway.”
Faith heard him swallow hard. He glared down at the plate for a beat, then pushed it back to her. “I don’t want your garbage food.”
Faith scoffed. “It’s notgarbage food.I only want a little bit of it. Forgive me for trying to keep it from going to waste.”
She snatched the plate back, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at the burger again, where ketchup now oozed down the side of one of the quarters. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed again.
Her anger vanished, and she adopted a softer tone.
“Seriously. You’d be doing me a favor if you’d finish it for me. I always feel bad tossing it.”
He looked at her for a long moment with those dark eyes.
“Okay. Thanks.” He reached for the plate, and by the time Faith had finished her quarter, his plate was empty.
Two weeks later, Thea and Sam had broken up. But by then, Leo and Faith were inseparable, in the cafeteria and beyond. By then, she’d realized that nobody wasthatforgetful about their lunch money. The truth was, Leo didn’t have any cash for lunch, so she started buying two burgers and an extra chocolate milk every day. Feeding him. Loving him.
Hoping he’d stay.
FOUR
Over the years, Leo’d had more stressful on-the-job experiences than he could count. It had started with rude fast-food customers when he was in high school and reached dizzying heights at various points as he was leading tree-planting excursions throughout South America where it was a toss-up whether language breakdowns, equipment failure, or lack of electricity would be the thing stopping work that day. But nothing had prepared him for the never-ending adrenaline parade that hit him every time he bumped into Faith.
“What are youdoinghere?”
He practically bellowed the words, then felt like a complete asshole when she deflated in front of him.
“Are you… are you the community grant… guy?” She glanced over her shoulder at Darla, as if the other woman might save her. And didn’t that just make him feel worse? Faith had been a lot of things when he’d known her, but she was never timid.
“Yes.” His struggling brain refused to make sense of her sudden appearance in the middle of his new life. Why would she want to talk with him about the grant? Maybe she was here to give money. She was the only child of the Fox dynasty, after all.
He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. “We don’t accept contributions. All foundation money comes from Digham’s earnings and are earmarked—”
“I’m not here to donate.” She brushed a runaway strand of moonlight hair behind her ear. “I need an extension on the grant deadline.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. It just slipped out. “You’reapplying for a grant?”
Her lips flattened. “Yes.”
“No.” He said it fast and final. Anything to get her out of this office.
She blinked. “No? Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
