Page 16 of Sunshine

“Hi,” I say back, doing my best to press down the embarrassment from Stassi’s words. I know Jason’s breakup with Michelle was only a couple of weeks ago, but that doesn’t mean what we have is any less real. It doesn’t help my confidence that everyone here is clearly older than me—all probably juniors, like Jason and Wells.

Erin’s returning smile is warm, though, and it helps to smooth over the nerves I feel. “Nice to meet you, Layla. I think I’ve seen you around—you’re a cheerleader, right?”

I grin. “Yeah, I am.”

Erin looks back at Stassi as the dark-haired boy leads her by the hand toward what looks like a large shed. “Don’t worry about Stassi. She’s really good friends with Michelle.” Her eyes flick to Jason for a second before she clears her throat.

I’ve never felt more awkward in my life, and I debate asking Jason to bring me home. It was nice of him to want to introduce me to his friends, but I didn’t ask for any of this. I steal a glance and find him looking unbothered, like none of this makes him feel as anxious as it makes me.

Something catches his attention in the distance, and I lookto see Wells approaching the group on foot with the man in the cowboy hat. The horse is gone, likely tucked back into the giant barn behind them. They speak quietly to each other for a moment before the man claps Wells on the shoulder and looks our way, that glare setting back into place as he studies each one of us. He shakes his head and then heads toward the house.

Wells’s lips are pressed tight around a piece of hay. “What’s Brooks’s problem?” Jason asks, his hand sliding to my waist again.

Wells shrugs. “Doesn’t want you all getting drunk here again. He and Kasey had to pick up a bunch of cans last time ’cause you fuckers don’t have any respect.”

Jason snorts. “Kasey drank more than all of us that night—they were probably his cans.”

Wells flashes him a warning look. “Let’s just take it easy, okay?” His eyes slide to me, like he’s just realized someone new is here. His eyes drop to Jason’s hand on my waist before they move back to Jason, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Jay, what the fuck?”

Great. Wells didn’t even know I was coming? Jason’s expression falters. “What?” He forces a smile back on his face as he looks down at me. “This is Layla. Layla, this is my best friend Wells. Forgive his rudeness.” His tone dips with his own warning.

I give Wells my best thousand-watt smile. “We have algebra together, I think.”

He looks at me for a beat, deep brown eyes assessing. And then he lowers his head. “Yeah.”

The rest of the group has already meandered toward the makeshift building that Stassi and her boyfriend disappeared into. Jason tilts his head that way. “Let’s have some fun, okay?I’m not drinking tonight, anyway. I have to get Layla home later.”

Wells still looks unconvinced, but at least his frown has disappeared. He simply nods, adjusting the worn hat on his head before wiping his brow with the back of his hand. Jason’s hand slips from my waist and winds into mine, and he tugs me toward the building.

Once we get inside, I see that it’s not a shed at all, it’s more of a recreation room. There’s a foosball table in the corner where the dark-haired boy—Ethan, Jason tells me—and Brad play. Erin and Stassi sit together on a worn sofa against the wall, watching them as they chaotically spin the little plastic men on the table. A fridge stands on the opposite wall, a dart board hanging next to it that looks like it’s seen better days, and a beer pong table that sits in the middle of the room, ready for use.

Wells beelines it for the fridge, opening the door to reveal it’s stocked full of beer. He grabs one, cracks it open, and takes a series of large gulps. I watch the column of his throat work with each swallow, both intimidated and a little mesmerized.

Jason dips his head low to my ear. “Sorry about Wells—he can be a bit of a grump sometimes.”

I try my best to give him a confident smile, but I still feel a distant nagging that I shouldn’t be here. Stassi glares at me from the other side of the room, and it’s like I suddenly don’t know what to do with my hands. I want to crawl into the shadows of the room, blend into the spaces where the light from the single bulb hanging from the ceiling doesn’t quite reach.

The foosball game soon ends with Ethan’s victory, and Jason jumps in to take Brad’s place. Brad stalks off to the fridge, grabbing a handful of beers to hand out to the rest ofthe group. Erin and Stassi both take one, as does Ethan. Jason refuses, which eases some of the tightness in my chest. When Brad offers one to me, I shake my head. “No thank you.”

Stassi scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Not as fun as Michelle, either.”

Jason shoots her a dirty look, and Ethan curses low from his side of the table. Stassi, it seems, isn’t going to warm up to me anytime soon.

Something brushes against my arm, and I turn to find Wells is standing next to me. He peers down at me with open curiosity before turning his focus toward the game. But then he speaks, the low timbre of his voice curling around me. “I suggest you toughen up if you’re gonna hang around here, sunshine.” His eyes stay rooted on the others, and I’m not sure what to make of his words, or why he called me sunshine. But before I can say a word back to him, he steps away to unfold a camping chair, placing it on the ground near the couch and settling himself into it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

NOW

Wells pulls his truck down an old dirt road, and my skin prickles with familiarity. I haven’t been to the Bennett ranch in years. It feels like slipping into an old version of myself, when the ranch had felt like a second home, despite the anxiety that comfort inevitably led to. I may have spent a lot of time here, but it was never for Wells.

Not really, anyway.

Even after all this time, the old traces of panic claw at my throat from the complexities of it all. I didn’t think he’d take me here tonight, but it’s not like we have anywhere else to go at this hour where we can avoid prying eyes. The ranch is Wells’s home and, all things considered, it’s a safe place.

He winds his truck down the long driveway past the main house—a sprawling white two-story he’s lived in all his life. He steers past a pair of cabins that I know belong to Brooks and Kasey, his two oldest brothers, before we approach a smallercabin a bit farther in the distance. The truck slows down as Wells parks directly in front of it.

There are at least half a dozen cabins scattered around the property, and it’s tradition for the Bennett children to move into them as adults. The lights inside this one are all turned off, and it feels . . . intimate. Like a step in the wrong direction.

---