Page 129 of The Difference Between

“Harvest is starting,” Banyan whines, gesturing at the workers in the fields as he looks at me. “And you look like you’re about to blast the girls with glyphosate.” His gaze drops to my boots, and he blows out a wild breath. “I feel the point of those shoes in my chest, Fire Lady.”

The echo of the workers voices float through the air. “Tell the girls I need the money too badly to blast them with glyphosate.”

Banyan cocks a hip, wipes the tip of his crooked nose, and squints at me. “Is this about Gavin?”

I scroll through emails on my phone. “No.”

“There it is, folks!” He snaps his fingers. “I knew it!”

I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth and glare at him. “And if it is?”

He throws two lazy hands in the air. “What’s the problemo? He likes you, you like him.” He swivels his hips in a way that guarantees nightmares. “Anyone with three working eyes can see it.”

“He’s ten years younger than me.”

I’ve given up worrying about that, but maybe it will get Banyan off my back.

“Age is a human construct. Next.”

“My job is in Chicago.” The job I was pushed to pause and was contemplating walking away from just days ago.

“Feet don’t have roots, Fire Lady. Why do you think my house has wheels?”

I glance at him. “So the cops don’t catch you, actually.”

“There’s that funny.” He wags a finger and smiles like a leprechaun. “What else?”

I let out a sharp sigh. “He’s an ignorant idiot who assumes he knows everything about me when in reality knows nothing about me or how the world works.”

At this, he laughs. Loud. “Pot meet kettle.”

This man is impossible, and I’m done. “No.”

“Did I ever tell you about the woma⁠—”

“We’re done here,” I snap. “Go make out with a tree or help with the harvest. I’m busy.” Nancy is moving into her new house this weekend, and I have a handful of loose ends to tie up before she does. “I’ll see you Saturday.” My gaze drops to his exposed chest. “Buttoned up when the first bus arrives.”

To my retreating back he calls, “Resisting change. Classic human move, Fire Lady. Real cute.”

I wave my middle finger over my head but keep walking. “Thanks for noticing.”

He groans.

For the first time all week, my smile is genuine.

Nancy’s house is organized chaos. Half-packed boxes are stacked between rolls of bubble wrap and the furniture is buried under piles of clothes and blankets.

“C’mon in, Reese,” she calls through the screen door.

I step inside and smile. I’ve popped in most days that I’ve been here as she’s packed to help with a few things, but for the most part, she’s wanted to do it alone.

She sweeps her hair out of her face and blows out a breath as we look around. “Hard to believe we were only here a few years and collected all this junk, huh?”

I make an agreeing sound. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Rest is for the movers.” She chuckles. “In here’s what I have for you.”

I follow her into the kitchen. The counters are covered with bags and boxes, spatulas and spoons.