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I wince. “He doesn’t need to do that. I was raised to work hard for everything I get anyway. I’m not a fan of asking for help.”

“Plus, her brother is a player for the Rangers,” Alex points out, gripping his sweet tea that he hasn’t touched since he got it. “If she needs connections, he’ll have plenty.”

It feels like he’s handing me off to my brother, which rubs me the wrong way. “You’re not wrong,” I grit out, forcing a smile. “But, like I said, we were raised to work our asses off for everything. I don’t want his help. Or yours. I don’t need it.”

Well, that part isn’t true. I definitely need help. But I’m too proud to ask for it. Too afraid to depend on other people to make something of myself.

“I know you don’t,” he says, this time his tone softer. “I didn’t mean it to come off that way. I’m just saying you’d let Sebastian help you long before you ever let me. You’re close.”

It’s hard to argue with him. Me and Sebastian have always been that way.

And even when it pains me whenever my big brother gives me money or does things for my car or surprises me with gifts that I know cost a pretty penny, I’m grateful for him.

We didn’t have a lot growing up, so he wanted to make sure we wanted for nothing now.

“I think that’s sweet,” his mother chimes in. “It’s important to be close to family. You never know what’s going to happen to them.”

Alex’s shoulders tense. “Not here,” he says quietly. “Olive doesn’t need to hear it.”

Hear what?

Colleen doesn’t make me ask. “I miss your father every day. I know you do too. There’s nothing wrong with talking about it, Alexander. My therapist told me instead of avoiding the hard topics, I should embrace them.”

“So now you listen to your therapist?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Funny. When I’ve told you that in the past, you haven’t listened.”

I can feel the tension rising between Alex and his mother, so I decide to cut it. “Not that this is the same, but my father and I aren’t very close. I only see him once, maybe twice a year, and speak to him only a handful of times. The rest of my family is close, but we’ve never had that bond.”

My father left me one message since I walked out of his house. It was a half-assed apology that felt forced at best, so I didn’t bother calling him back to accept it. He’s clueless when it comes to what he says or why it hurts, so it isn’t like he meant it or cares if I forgive him or not.

“Not Alex,” Colleen tells me, breaking me from my thoughts. “He spent so much time with his daddy, it was obvious who the favorite was. Scott would take him to games, practice, the batting cages. I swear the man was trying to buy his love.”

“That isn’t what he was doing,” Alex disagrees. “He loved sports too. You know that. He was coaching Little League and the junior varsity team. I never had favorites. He and I just had more in common.”

Colleen hums. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to live with him after the divorce. The judge let you decide.”

Alex closes his eyes, and I can tell this conversation is about to go downhill fast. “I didn’t choose him, though, did I?”

Colleen harrumphs like that’s still somehow not good enough.

I hardly know the woman, but I can tell she isn’t being fair to Alex.

“It’s never easy making that kind of decision,” I reason with her.

“I may not be close with my father, but he’s still my dad.

Half of his DNA runs through my veins. I’m sure Alex feels the same way.

Picking between parents is hard when they both gave you life. ”

He looks at me and mouths “thank you” before looking at his mother, who’s staring at the tabletop. “It is hard, Ma. I never wanted to have to choose. I love you both.”

“Everybody has a choice, Alexander.”

There’s the full name again.

“And you loved him. Past tense,” she murmurs. “He’s dead.”

“That doesn’t change the fact I love him.”

She’s quiet.

I clear my throat. “Family can be tough sometimes. Things happen that make us see people differently. But I’ve known Alex for a while, Mrs. O’Conner, and I know he doesn’t make his choices lightly.

He’s a good person with a heart that he rarely shows people.

And I can tell he’s shown you his time and time again. The rest of us can only be so lucky.”

When his mother looks at me, there’s a shine to her eyes. “My Alex has always been that way. So caring. Too caring. Even to people who don’t deserve it.”

My brows pinch.

She frowns, turning to Alex. “I’m sorry that I’m here, baby boy. I just missed you and was worried when Pam told me you’d gotten hurt. I want to be your mother for once. I wanted to care for you, not be taken care of.”

He shakes his head, wetting his lips. “I appreciate that you care. I do. You don’t need to apologize. But we do need to get you back. You know why, Ma. For me?”

Her eyes go down to her lap. “Fine.”

Alex lets out a long breath. “Thank you.”

I’m not sure what’s happening, but it seems serious enough that I don’t feel the need to talk.

When our food arrives at the table, the conversation doesn’t flow as well. Colleen is quiet, barely hounding me with any questions. Alex doesn’t try saying much, besides asking us how our food is. And, suddenly, I feel awkward for coming.

It isn’t until an hour and a half later when we get back to Alex’s apartment that he pulls me aside to talk. “I need to drive my mom somewhere, so I’ll be gone for a few hours. You can stay here and watch TV or whatever you want to do.”

He’s leaving? “You’re taking her back to Lindon? I can come with you.”

“No,” he says too quickly. He tugs on the collar of his T-shirt. “No, I’m not taking her to Lindon.”

So where is she going? Their house is still in town. It’s why he was there before, he’d said. I guess the hitchhiking thing makes more sense now if she came from somewhere closer, but she doesn’t have a purse or anything with her.

“I can’t come with you?” I question.

His eyes dim. “It’s better if you stay here.”

“Why?”

“Olive, come on.” He sounds exasperated. Or tired. Maybe both? Rubbing the back of his neck, he drops his head back. “It’s complicated, okay? I can try to explain when I get back.”

What’s new? “Everything about us seems to be complicated, Alex. So how about I save you the trouble of coming up with an excuse on your drive home to not tell me what’s going on and let me see for myself?”

He’s speechless, his lips parting and closing in shock. Maybe because he knows I’m right. He’ll figure out some reason why he can’t tell me the truth on his way back, and then we won’t get anywhere.

“I came here to spend time with you,” I remind him. “You told me you wanted me here. You told me you shouldn’t have let go of what we had before. So let me be here for you.”

His expression flickers. I don’t know what the break is, but I’m grateful for it. He swallows, his throat bobbing as he looks toward the other room where his mother disappeared to use the bathroom. “I’ll tell my mom that we’re ready then.”

He goes to move past me, but I stop him by grabbing his wrist. “Thank you. For giving me this. Whatever this is.”

It feels a lot like trust, and that’s something that hits deep.

His eyes go to my hand. “Just remember that she’s a good person, okay?”

I stare at him, confused by the remark.

But I say, “Okay,” like I understand.

Because I can tell he needs to hear that.