“What are you doing back here? Don’t you live in LA?” Savannah questions, her accent softer than her mom and her brother’s. So, shedoesremember me to some degree. She catches the slight arch of my brow, then blushes. “I’ve kept tabs on you. Is that weird? It’s only every once in a while when I see something about Everett Harding on Twitter and it reminds me to check in.” Her face falls in horror, as though she can’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. “Oh, crap, I sound like a stalker now. I do, don’t I? And why did I call him Everett to you? Why didn’t I just call him your dad?”
“Savannah,” I say, and she ceases her babbling. “It’s cool.”
She covers her face with her hands, unable to look at me now. She even groans a little.
I stifle my laughter. This is kind of amusing, mostly because I’ve never personally experienced any sort of freak out like this. At Thousand Oaks High, my friends couldn’t care less who my father is. Because their mom is a model. Or their own dad is a rock star. Or their grandmother is a fashion designer. In Thousand Oaks, pretty much everyone has some sort of connection to the celebrity world, which means famous relatives is the norm. And that means no one cares.
“Ohhhhh.” Myles takes a sharp intake of breath as he connects the dots and somehow his expression is one of both fascination and horror. “The ranch down the road. That’s your folks?”
Warily, I nod. The fact that Sheri borrows baking stuff from Patsy Bennett leads me to believe that the two neighboring ranches get along just fine, but who knows? There could be some underlying resentment there. Maybe the Bennetts secretly despise us Hardings for being, you know,Hardings.It wouldn’t be the first time. Fame can certainly have a downside – resentment is pretty common; I’ve learned that firsthand.
“So that guy from theFlashPointmovies. . . You’re his kid?”
I’m also Marnie Harding’s daughter, and Roxanne Cohen’s best friend, and Mr. Sabatini’s top chemistry student, but no one defines me as those. Only my father is important, like the sole reason I evenmatter in this world is because I share his DNA.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I say through tight lips.I have my own name.“Mila Harding.”
Luckily, Savannah changes the subject – for her sake or mine, I’m not sure. “My mom says you’re here for a while,” she muses brightly. “That’s cool. Missed Tennessee?”
“Yeah. I’m not sure how long I’ll be here for, but I’m guessing a month or two,” I admit. I glance at Myles, his head tilted to the side as he watches me in fascination, then move my gaze back to Savannah. “I know it’s beenforever, and it’s super out-of-the-blue for me to show up like this, but the truth is. . . I’d really like someone to hang out with other than my aunt and my grandpa.”
“Oh.” Savannah’s eyes narrow slightly. “So, you’re just looking for someone to use for a couple months?”
“Oh God,” I mumble, feeling my chest sink. I sure do have some nerve. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have come here.”
A singsong of laughter escapes Savannah’s lips, dancing through the humid air, as she reaches out and grasps my wrist. “I’m kidding!”
“Oh.”
Myles cracks up with his sister. I stare at the knotty wood of the porch beneath my feet. Have I always been this much of a nervous wreck? To be fair, this suddenly feels out of my comfort zone and I don’t know how to navigate it at all.
“Yep. We can be friends,” Savannah says reassuringly, her voice gentle once the laughter has died down. I look up to meet her eyes and she smiles, sweetly. “We already were once, anyway.”
“Thanks,” I say, so quiet it’s almost a whisper. Well, that’s something.
“Ohhh!” Savannah exclaims, waving a hand at Myles as though he will telepathically be able to know what she’s thinking. Maybe he can – maybe it’s a sibling thing. I wouldn’t know. “We’re heading to a tailgate party later,” she says. “Super low-key. You should come with us! You can get to know all the Fairview locals – there isn’t a lot of us.”
“A tailgate party?” I can’t help the surprise that crosses my face. “You guys really have those?”
In one of Dad’s first straight-to-TV movies, I’m pretty sure there’s a low-budget scene at a tailgate party where he finally gets the girl and kisses her in the truck bed. I cringed then and I cringe now. There’s something super gross about watching your father kissing on screen – especially when it’s not your mom he’s locking lips with.
“Just for saying that, you’re not coming,” Myles says, shaking his head at me in disappointment. Then his mouth twists into a teasing smirk, making it clear that he’s only messing with me since I’m clearly not the brightest at knowing when someone is kidding around. “You can come. I’ll give Blake a heads-up.”
“Who’s Blake?”
“Our cousin,” Savannah answers. “He’s hosting.”
Not only do I already feel sluggish from the early alarm and long flight this morning, it feels a bit risky to start breaking Ruben’s rules on day one. Maybe I should stay at home with Sheri and Popeye tonight. But a tailgate party. . .
“Sounds like fun.” I wipe my brow. “But I don’t know. . . There’ll be a lot of people there and I really shouldn’t be—”
“You’re in Fairview now, girly,” Savannah says with a grin. “I know you only just got here, but when something actually happens around here for once, you don’t even think about it. You just do it.”
4
Aunt Sheri and I are out on the porch together, waiting for Savannah and Myles to swing by and pick me up. It’s been a few hours since I walked home from the Willowbank ranch.
Darkness is rolling in, the sky a clear, gorgeous shade of deep blue with remnants of the summer sun lingering out on the horizon. The heat of the day is gone, replaced by a warmth that’s comfortable and cozy. At night, the ranch is even more peaceful and silent. No car engines whirring in the distance, no voices floating by, not even the bark of a dog. Just a calm stillness that slows down the world a little.
