Page 72 of Don't Go Faking My Heart

"How are you liking the game?" Jane asks when we reach the line.

"If it doesn't become the next big sport in America, we will have failed future generations," I say.

"Rusty's the best player out there and he's not even on the team," Parker says. "Your boy missed his calling."

"Okay, speaking of that, is he like a secret agent, or something? Suddenly in the last week, I've found out he's on a first-name basis with everyone at Donegal's bar, he hangs out there and cooks with them for fun sometimes, and—P.S.—he's crazy good at cooking. He played hockey for like four years, and is Lottie's assistant coach. Also, he's easily the best kisser I've ever met and is a scary good actor. He's so convincing, I almost believe we're in love. Do I even know him?"

"Of course you know him," Parker says. "You just haven’t seen him fully."

"What do you mean?"

Parker sighs. "You know how I always told you guys that I hate letting people see me cry? It's because I didn't want people to see me as weak and flawed and broken. I didn't want to be seen. I think Rusty wants to be seen by you, but he only shows you the parts you're ready to see."

Her words sting like that one time I tried hiking in Arizona and tripped into a cactus. They have barbs that make it impossible to remove them easily.

"Ash, what does Rusty do?" Jane asks.

"Well, he has a degree in graphic design and was working at an advertising firm in Atlanta until Arlo broke his leg a couple years ago. His parents asked him to come home and help them run the fruit stands for Tripp."

Jane's half-smile is a new cactus poking into me. "His parents do run a couple of fruit stands, but Rusty’s their boss. Actually, he’s their boss’s boss’s boss. He’s the VP of Distribution and Retail Operations for all of Sugar Maple Farms. Yes, he's over fruit stands and farmer's markets, but also so much more. He started a subscription box service and established partnerships with retail management companies for half of downtown Atlanta. He occasionally runs a fruit stand so he can keep his fingers on the pulse of the operations, but he's in charge of a department that does hundreds of millions of dollars in revenue annually."

"Wait, Rusty's in charge and he lets his dad work for him?"

"That's what you got from this conversation?" Parker asks.

"I don't care if he's wiping his nose with thousand dollar bills," I say, because who could care about that? "I care that Arlo is still in his life. Why would he do that?"

Jane frowns. "Because Rusty loves his mom, and for whatever reason, she's hitched her wagon to Arlo and isn't leaving now. As long as Arlo's sober and his mom is safe, Rusty employs him."

"Sober? Safe? I know Rusty called Arlo a bully, but?—"

"Bully is putting it mildly," Jane says. Tears spring to my eyes, angry, horrified, heartbroken tears. "Arlo is a recovering alcoholic, and I give him props for getting sober. Sober or not, though, he's mean. He's only as respectful as he has to be to Tripp and me to keep his job. But nastiness comes out sometimes, and his wife just pats his arm. I think she likes having something to hold over him after all these years."

"What do you mean?"

"Rusty texts her every morning and night to see if Arlo has gotten physical. And when Rusty pays them, all of it goes into an account that Rusty and his mom are on. Arlo doesn't have a penny without them."

Parker's eyebrows are as high as my eyes are wide.

"I had no idea. I watched him punch Philip and all I could think was that I didn't know Rusty had an ounce of aggression in him because he's so nice. But that's absurd. Have I put him into a box where he's not even allowed to be human?"

We're at the counter now. Jane gives me an understanding smile and starts ordering for us.

Parker squeezes my arm. "Maybe. But you've seen more now. You have a wider view. Move forward with it."

I nod half-heartedly. "And you guys all knew this?"

“Not all of it, but more than you seem to have."

"How?"

She blows air out of her lips slowly. "Sonny decided he wanted to be Rusty's friend, so he started hanging around with him and asking him questions and observing. You know Sonny. People are his superpower."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you ask?"

It's not a mean question, and it doesn't hurt. It makes me think. "Because he was safe. He was the first guy ever not to treat me like some manic pixie dream girl, like Philip used to say I was."

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