Page 15 of Don't Go Faking My Heart

Some people worry they're not enough for the people around them.

Not me.

I'm too much. Too extra. Too eccentric.

"I thought I'd find you here," a voice says from behind me.

I turn around and see Rusty, looking all cute and disheveled. He wore a button-up shirt today, and I know the act of buttoning up his flannel is as much effort as he would ever put toward his appearance if he had his way. At some point, he ran his hand through his blond hair. It had been slicked back presentably, but now part of it is flopping across his forehead. It's almost long enough to get in his eyes.

Rusty squats next to me.

"What was I thinking?"

"You were thinking you were right and the bozos in that room couldn't see it."

"But I just took on another twenty accounts! I can't possibly run an effective campaign for all of them in that time. What was I thinking?"

He puts a hand on my shoulder, and the touch is reassuring. I wouldn't break down like this in front of almost anyone, but he's seen behind the curtain, and he hasn't run yet.

No, I don't mean "yet." Rusty isn't a runner. He's the most solid, decent man I've ever known.

He's like my stepdad in that regard. Greg is the best. He accepts me for who I am.

At least, he's always acted like he does …

“Ash, it's gonna be okay," Rusty says slowly, warmly. "You want to know what you were thinking? You were thinking you have an army of people who'd follow you into battle."

"Not likely. I would never ask that?—"

"You're right, you wouldn't, and you didn't. But we’re all here anyway, and you couldn't help but know it in the moment. You didn't write a check your butt can't cash, because you've got a lot of people willing to cash it with you."

"There’s no way Carolina National Bank will allow that many butts to come in and cash checks. I'm not even sure it's legal.”

The corner of his mouth raises. "Says the girl who ran a viral abs ranking page in college."

"Exactly. It was a tummy waffles page, not a sticky buns page, if you know what I’m saying."

He grimaces. "Why are the buns sticky?"

"Ew!" I laugh and push him off-kilter. He drops his hand from my back to catch himself, and in spite of the muggy day, the loss of contact makes me shiver. I sigh, feeling my chest deflate. "What am I going to do?"

Rusty blinks quickly the way he always does when we're working on a campaign and inspiration strikes.

"We’re gonna market the heck out of this town and everyone’s gonna pick your plan. Now, can you wait here for me? I need to do something real quick." He opens his leather satchel, a gift from Tripp's grandpa when he got his first real job out of college. It's a nice satchel, but the fact that Rusty is so sentimental about a gift from his best friend's grandpa makes it downright adorable.

Rusty hands me his sudoku book and a bag of trail mix.

I frown and peek in his bag. "Oh, sure, you keep Pookie’s treats on hand, but not Ash’s?”

“It’s Prairie, not Pookie. And no. I would have to raid a second grader’s Valentine’s box to keep Ash treats on hand.”

"Um, excuse me? Fun Dip is a delicious treat for any occasion."

"If you're seven," he says.

"No, it's always good." I show him my left hand. "Someday, the man I love is going to put a Ring Pop on this finger."

Rusty's laugh shakes his shoulders, and the sight makes me smile. He doesn't laugh easily, so earning a shoulder-shaking chuckle makes me feel less doom-spirally.

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