The short man behind the counter looks friendly enough as he smiles at me and asks for my driver’s license. A few short minutes later he’s handing me a key card and a slip of paper with a Wi-Fi code. Getting a room is much easier than I thought it would be—a little expensive, but I don’t want to stay someplace cheap and risk my safety.

“Down the sidewalk and make a left,” he informs me with a smile.

I thank him and head back out into the blistering cold and move my car to the spot next to my room so I don’t have to carry my bags.

This is what I’ve come to because of that thoughtless, egotistical boy: I am someone staying in a motel, alone, all my belongings stuffed frantically into bags. I am someone who has no one to lean on instead of someone who always had a plan.

Grabbing some of my bags, I lock my car, which looks like junk compared to the BMW next to me. Just as I think my day could not get any worse, I lose my grip on one of my bags and drop it onto the snowy sidewalk. My clothes and a few books topple out onto the wet snow. I scramble to pick them up with my free hand, but I’m afraid to see which books they are—I don’t think I can take my favorite possessions being ruined alongside me, not today.

“Here let me help you, miss,” a man’s voice says as a hand reaches down to help me. “Tessa?”

Shocked, I look up to see blue eyes and a concerned face. “Trevor?” I say even though I know it’s him. I stand upright and look around. “What are you doing here?”

“I’d ask you the same thing.” He smiles.

“Well . . . I’m . . .” I take my bottom lip between my teeth.

But he saves me from having to explain myself. “My plumbing went haywire, so here I am.” Bending down, he gathers some of my stuff and hands me a soaked copy of Wuthering Heights with a raise of his brow. Then he hands me a couple of wet sweaters and Pride and Prejudice, saying ruefully, “Here . . . this one’s in bad shape.”

And like that, I know the universe is playing a sick joke on me.

“I somehow knew you would be into the classics,” he tells me with a friendly smile. He takes the bags from me and I give him a nod of thanks before sliding in the key card and opening the door. The room is freezing, so I go over to the heater immediately and turn it all the way up.

“You would think for how much they charge here they wouldn’t worry about their electric bill,” Trevor says and sets my bags on the floor.

I smile and nod in agreement. I grab the clothes that fell onto the snow and put them over the shower curtain rod. When I come back into the main room, there’s an awkward silence with this person I barely know in this room that isn’t really mine. “Is your apartment nearby?” I ask, to bring some life into the space.

“House. But yeah, it’s only about a mile away. I like to be close to work, so I know I won’t ever be late.”

“That’s a good idea . . .” It sounds like something I would do.

Trevor looks so different in casual clothes. I have only ever seen him in suits, but here he’s wearing snug blue jeans and a red sweatshirt, with his hair messy where it’s usually perfectly gelled.

“I think so, too. So are you alone?” he asks and looks at the ground, obviously uncomfortable prying.

“Yeah. I’m alone.” I mean that in more ways than he knows.

“I’m not trying to be nosy, I was just asking because your boyfriend doesn’t seem to like me much.” He half laughs and wipes his black hair from his forehead.

“Oh, Hardin doesn’t like anyone—don’t take it personally.” I pick at my nails. “He isn’t my boyfriend, though.”

“Oh, sorry. I just assumed he was.”

“He was . . . sort of.”

Was he? He said he was. But then, Hardin said a lot of things.

“Oh, sorry again. I just keep saying all the wrong things.” He laughs.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” I tell him and unpack the rest of my bags.

“Do you want me to go? I don’t mean to intrude.” He half turns toward the door, as if to show his offer is genuine.

“No, no, you can stay. If you want, of course. You don’t have to,” I say too quickly.

What is wrong with me?

“It’s settled, then, I’ll stay,” he says and sits down on the chair next to the desk. I look for a place to sit myself, and eventually decide on the edge of the bed. I’m pretty far away from him, which makes me realize how spacious the room really is.

“So, how are you liking Vance so far?” he asks, his fingers tracing patterns on the wooden desk.

“I love it. It’s so much more than I ever expected. It’s literally my dream job. I hope to get hired on after I graduate.”

“Oh, I think you’ll be offered a position there well before then. Christian is very fond of you—that manuscript you turned in last week was all I heard about at lunch the other day. He says you have a good eye, and from him that’s a huge compliment.”

“Really? He said that?” I can’t help but smile. The action feels odd and unwelcome but also comforting all at once.

“Yeah, why else would he invite you to the conference? Only the four of us are going.”

“Four of us?” I ask.

“Yeah. Me, you, Christian, and Kim.”

“Oh, I didn’t know Kim was going.” I hope desperately that Mr. Vance didn’t only invite me because he feels obligated due to my relationship with Hardin, his best friend’s son.