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Unfair.
“I handle a lot of investments for the guys,” he says, and the word investments shouldnotsound sexy. “Plus, the Appies get a lot of endorsements because of social media. We’re not the typical minor league team.”
I have more questions, but they’re tumbling over one another then getting lost in the soft edges of my current sleepy state.
“Do you,” Eli starts, then pauses. “Are, uh, finances an issue?”
I want to laugh. Because “issue” is a bit of an understatement. But Shannon already brought up my car. Exactly how many broken-down areas of my life do I want to reveal tonight?
“Vet school is expensive,” I say. “I’ve been saving so I’m not buried in student loans.”
I peek over, a little afraid but needing to see Eli’s reaction to this. He’s frowning, and I fully expect to hear him ask exactly how expensive vet school is or to admit he was thinking about something less.
Instead, he says, “Are you planning to move? For vet school, I mean.”
I close my eyes again, letting myself relax again in the warm hug of the heated seat. “I’m applying to UNC-Asheville and Tennessee, so I’ll stay here.” I pause, considering my words. But sleepiness has loosened my inhibitions. Or maybe just mytongue. “My grandmother lives here in an assisted living facility. I don’t really want to leave her alone.”
Even if she couldn’t care less. The last time I went to see her, she called me Jezebel and tossed a large-print edition of a Harlequin romance at my head.
“Are you her only family?”
I know the question Eli’s really asking, and I appreciate the careful way he asked. It makes me wonder about his own family situation. People with happy and healthy relationships with both living parents are more likely to ask things likeWhat about your parents?
“My mom and dad died in a car crash two years ago,” I tell him, feeling like a terrible person when I yawn immediately after.
My eyes crack open as Eli sets his hand over mine, curling his fingers over my knuckles. His thumb does a quick sweep over the skin at my wrist, making me shiver. He only glances away from the road for a second to meet my gaze, but his eyes are kind. After a moment, he releases my hand, and I hold back the sound of protest that wants to escape at the loss of contact.
“I’m sorry, Bailey. That’s … wow. I’m really sorry.”
“Thanks.”
I blow out a shaky breath and let my eyes fall closed again. Confessions are easier when I can’t see his handsome jaw in the dim light from the dashboard. His car, I couldn’t help but notice when he first turned it on, has exactly zero maintenance lights flashing.
“So, you’re the one who takes care of your grandmother?” he asks.
“Financially,” I clarify.
“Did your parents have a trust or something set up?” His voice is so hopeful.
Kind of like I was when I first walked into the lawyer’s office to discuss my parents’ estate. I mean, I was also broken and sad and kind of a walking zombie, but I was hopeful at least for some kind of financial boon to help keep me afloat while I drifted in grief.
“My parents were apparently not great at financial things. They had a reverse mortgage on their house.” I don’t need to explain because the noise Eli makes assures me that in addition to stocks, he has some understanding of what that means. “There was very little left over after everything was settled.”
So, now Eli can guess exactly how sad my financial state of affairs is. Which is to say: very sad.
The kind of sad that might make a person think about getting married in exchange for some kind of financial benefit. Honestly? The idea of just not doing everythingaloneappeals to me as much as the ease of the monetary strain.
My thoughts have the kind of soft haze of near-sleep, but I can clearly picture the pink door on Eli’s house. The way his mom hugged me, the offer to join her book club.
All that might all go away if Eli has to go back to Canada, his mom with him. No more book club. No more hockey. No more pink door. Or centaurs.
Wait—centaurs?
“Who’s taking care of you, Bailey?”
Eli’s words settle over me, soft as snowfall, only warm not cold.
“No one,” I murmur.
