I nodded, unintentionally giving him the smirk he’d summoned, and walked up the steps and through the door.

He led the way across the living room, past a small bathroom that emitted the aroma of at least a gallon’s worth of bleach, and into a stark bedroom containing an old dresser and a bed frame.

“Had to ditch the mattress,” he said, turning to me. “Got a new one ordered this morning. It’ll be here in a week.”

I swallowed. “Okay.” Of all the possible scenarios I’d imagined for this summer, living in a trailer with Boyce Wynn hadn’t been one of them. A trailer that at the moment contained one bed. “I guess I’ll just sleep—”

“In my bed.”

My hand, gesturing toward the living room, froze midair. I’ve heard people say My heart stopped—which of course isn’t possible unless you’ve just died—but I now understood where the perception might originate. “Uh.”

“I’ll take the sofa,” he said.

Embarrassment washed over me. He wasn’t propositioning me. He was being courteous. I lowered my hand, half-convinced I’d fallen into an alternate universe where my mother kicked me out of the house and Boyce Wynn was proper. “You don’t have to do that.”

He arched a brow, his eyes glowing with mischief. “You want me to sleep with you?”

Or not.

“I… I meant I’ll take the sofa.”

He shook his head once. “That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me, Pearl.”

“I’m moving into your home and not even able to pay you rent. Or repay you for buying a mattress. Also I’m shorter than you, so I’ll fit better. On the sofa, I mean. And it’s only for a week. I’m not forcing you out of your own bed—”

“All right, all right.” He held up a hand. “But if you get uncomfortable, or lonely…” He winked. “My offer stands.”

With that proposition, the world righted itself.

• • • • • • • • • •

The cowardly side of me wished Mama would be out when I got home. I could leave a note and my car keys on the kitchen counter, park my car in its garage spot, and climb into Boyce’s car, avoiding the confrontation altogether.

But it was Monday afternoon—she’d be home planning the week’s meals and supervising the weekly housekeeping service, and Thomas would be at the surgery center seeing new and prospective patients. If I’d wanted to avoid them both, I’d have waited until Friday, when she did volunteer work and he took the boat out all day. And I couldn’t leave without a face-to-face explanation, as much as I dreaded it.

I’d focused on how she would respond to my failure to fall in line with her stipulations for continuing to receive their financial support. I hadn’t given much thought to what her reaction might be to where and to whom I was turning—to Boyce. She had no more idea of our relationship than anyone else did. But seeing his Trans Am in the driveway—watching me leave with him after I let her know I couldn’t yield to her ultimatum? It wasn’t hard to imagine exactly what she would think.

Freshman year of college, she’d been none too thrilled when I told her I needed an appointment to get birth control. Thomas talked her off the ledge by pointing out the maturity and responsibility it had taken to make that request. Even so, when Mitchell visited last summer, she’d put him in a guest bedroom downstairs, though we’d been exclusive since the beginning of junior year. Mama and I didn’t really discuss sex. I knew she’d rather I wasn’t sexually active, though I think she was glad I was sensible about it. She’d known me all my life, though—what else would I be?

I knew where her need to disregard that I had a sex life originated—my unplanned existence. She’d never once made me feel unwanted, but I knew the story and connected the dots. If it weren’t for me, she and my father would have had time to plan a safer passage from Mexico. He might have lived.

I pulled into the wide driveway at the edge of the cul-de-sac, and Boyce pulled in behind me. “I don’t think this will take long,” I said, walking up to his open window.

“I’ll come in with you.”

“It’s better if I go in alone. I want her to concentrate on what I’m saying, not who’s with me. If you come in…” I shook my head. “I just need her to know it’s my decision.”

His jaw tensed. “Okay. But if you need me, call or text or yell and I’m there.”

I nodded. “I’ll be fine.” My stomach lurched when I glanced toward the house. “If you’re one of those guys who freaks out around tears, though, you might wanna get prepared. I hate disappointing people I love. I might cry.” My eyes filled just verbalizing the possibility, and he looked like I’d just told him he might need a big injection in a highly unpleasant location.

As I turned, he caught my wrist. “Pearl—I can’t imagine anyone ever being disappointed in you.”

When I walked into the kitchen, Mama had finished putting away the fresh food and was organizing pantry items and fussing at Tux, who issued piteous meows while circling her ankles, begging for a snack. I picked up an empty grocery bag and folded it, gathering my courage.

“Did you process the withdrawal?” she asked when she saw me.

“I’m not withdrawing, Mama. I’m not going to Michigan.” She froze and I pressed on. “I understand your requirements for living here, and I just… can’t. I’m sorry to disappoint you and Thomas, but this is my life. I have to do what’s right for me. So I’m moving in with a friend for the rest of the summer—Boyce Wynn? He has an extra room and he’s close to campus.”