Page 52

My entire body freezes. No way they’re talking about me.

After a moment, another woman speaks up. “With the Westons?”

“Word is she showed up in the middle of the night.”

Shit. She is talking about me. I remember what Hassie said about Tempest being an unstoppable gossip mill. Looks like it finally found me.

I peek through the crack in the shelf to see a woman with gold hoop earrings and a violently chopped bob.

“No surprise to me the Westons are taking in strays.”

“Can you blame them? After their parents… But that girl…” A tsk. “Roy Devereaux went down to that distillery three times last week.” Disdain hangs in her voice. “Respectfully, I think she’s a fraud. Some con artist who dresses like a whore.”

The heavy beat of my heart thunders in my ears. I feel myself wanting to disappear inside of it.

Home-wrecker. Slut. Foolish girl. I’ve been called it all. But fraud is a new one. Nothing hurts more than that. A reminder that I don’t belong.

It’s how I’ve always felt in life. I got boobs too young and was mercilessly teased by my classmates. My mother choosing Tom, believing Tom over me. My profession being treated with side-eye and snark when it’s so much more than that.

“I heard she’s a stripper.”

Irritation crawls up my skin, and I try to shake off the words. If I had a dollar for every woman who was appalled that I’m a dancer, I’d be on my own private yacht right now.

The woman’s tone turns huffy. “It’s slim pickins in this town, and if some floozy stranger thinks she can get her claws into one of those boys, she better think twice and get in line.”

I feel the fuck you forming on my lips. Nothing makes me feel more alive than putting gossipy bitches in their place. But I stop myself at the last minute and force myself to breathe. I’m new here, and I don’t want to cause a scene. Quietly, quickly, I take Ratson’s bag of food, leave my basket on the dirty linoleum, drop a ten-dollar bill on the counter, and exit the market.

Outside on the street corner, I turn my face to the setting sun. My cheeks flame.

Everyone always talks. But it still stings. Jesus, what’s a girl to do? I get naked for a few dollars onstage and suddenly everyone’s a critic.

I look down at the bag of food in my hands.

There went dinner.

Lifting my gaze, I glance around the town, at its brightness, brick buildings, happy families exiting restaurants and bars, and feel the tears form in my eyes.

“Fuck.”

Alone. I feel so alone in this, in everything. No one to trust, no one to turn to.

My gaze lands on my Pinto. I should leave Tempest and never come back to this town again.

But where would I go? The thought of starting over, even if I’ve only been here for ten days, feels daunting. And do what? I could dance, but I need a big city for that, and a big city only brings me more attention. I’m stuck.

My eyes flood. My lip trembles. I reach up to hold my gold heart.

Don’t give up, Delilah. You can do anything.

Delilah.

“Delilah!”

I blink myself out of my daze when I realize my name’s being called.

“Delilah!!!”

I look across the street. Evangeline. She stands out front of the Blind Pig café with Ezra and her family. She hops on her tiptoes and waves frantically.