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Making quick work of it, I set two plates of the berry French toast, egg omelette, and bacon. I find the orange juice in the fridge and pour two glasses of that as well.

My heart pounds as I try to figure out what to say to Hazel. She needs a place to land for a bit, and I need her to do this pro-am with me, but I don’t want to force it upon her as a condition of her staying here. I don’t know how to both offer her my guest room and convince her to do the tournament without it seeming like they’re connected.

“Levi?” Her quiet and tentative voice comes from somewhere behind me.

I swallow and turn, taking her in. She’s wearing a pair of high-waisted black shorts and a cropped white shirt with one word on it—"angry”. Her face is free of makeup, showing off her natural beauty. Her long curly hair is tamed into a braid with a few wisps and her bangs framing her face.

She shuffles her bare feet on the marble floor and rubs at her arms.

“You’re cold,” I say. Great job, Captain Obvious.

Her pink lips part and she lets out an embarrassed laugh. “In my hurry to leave, it seems I forgot a few things at Brody’s. Like, you know, all my sweatshirts.”

I nod and say, “Here. Take a seat. I’ll be right back.”

I don’t wait to see if she moves. I make my way to my own bedroom upstairs and grab a few things. Brand new socks, a clean sweatshirt, a large T-shirt she can sleep in. I try not to think too hard about the way my stomach tightens in anticipation of seeing her in my clothes.

When I walk back in the kitchen, Hazel is sitting at the counter, drinking orange juice. Her toes curl from the cold and I quickly hand her the stack of clothing.

“Thank you,” she says, a small smile now playing on her lips. She puts the sweatshirt on first, then the cashmere socks, and she sighs contentedly.

“I don’t think any of my pants will fit, but I can give you a pair all the same,” I say, dragging a stool across from her. When I notice the untouched plates of food, I push one towards her.

“I usually wear shorts, but thank you for the rest,” she says, tucking her hands into the sleeves of the sweatshirt.

“There are blankets on the couch,” I add.

She nods and looks over her shoulder at the large living room. “You have a nice house. Speaking of,” she starts to say, but I shake my head.

“Eat, please,” I tell her. “Then we’ll talk.”

She’s quiet, but she finishes everything on the plate and I pour her another glass of juice.

“This is awkward.” She says, setting her fork on her empty plate and wincing. “I really didn’t mean for anyone to find me in my car.”

I sigh and gather the plates and cups, rinsing them and adding them to the dishwasher. When I sit back at the counter, Hazel gives me a worried look, biting her thumbnail.

“You realize how dangerous that is, right?” I ask.

She blinks back tears and nods. My heart breaks for her. This talented, beautiful girl, doing the best she can with the very little she has.

“I want to make you an offer,” I say, pausing to see her reaction.

Her face is impassive but patient. At least she’s willing to hear me out.

“You can stay here as long as you’d like,” I say.

“But?” She frowns. “What’s the catch?”

I take a deep breath. “No catch. As long as you need it, that room is yours. Once Ezra leaves town, you can have the guesthouse. It’s bigger.”

Her frown deepens and she cracks her knuckles. She’s anxious, I realize. I suppose it makes sense, but I wish she weren’t.

“Why would you offer that, expecting nothing in return?”

I blow out a deep breath and debate how much I should tell her of my past. Her brown eyes are questioning, and I know that if I don’t give her the full truth, she’ll walk away. She’ll go right back to her car.

“Because I’ve been where you are right now.”