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“What?”

“Nothing.” I snicker.

“No, tell me, why are you laughing at me?”

“I’m not laughing at you.”

“You are.” He sounds offended now. He grabs a cushion and gently throws it at me.

“Stop!” I yelp, and I catch it before it hits me in the head. “It’s simply interesting how easily you got sucked into a baking show, okay? I didn’t expect that.”

“All sorts of wrong impressions about me,” he mocks and shakes his head at me disapprovingly.

It reminds me about our conversation earlier, and his rather bad reputation. I’m too curious to let it slide this time. The emotional upheaval of today is making me bolder than usual.

“How come everyone around here has such a wrong impression of you?”

And I’m certain now that they are wrong. Except for that dreadful meeting with his aunt at the funeral home, he’s been nothing but nice and helpful.

He scoffs. “You’ve been talking about me?”

I can sense he’s deflecting, so I backtrack. “You wish. It’s a small town. I just heard things. It doesn’t matter.”

Just when I think he’s not going to answer, he surprises me, saying, “I was a bit of a menace as a teenager. My family is relatively well-known around here, so my escapades were widely discussed.”

I nod. I’ve lived here long enough to understand that there are few secrets in this town.

“It was only for a year,” he continues. “One year of bad decisions, and it’ll haunt me forever. I got my shit together during my senior year, spent most of my time at Jon’s, and then left town the summer after graduation. I haven’t been back much.”

“Jon’s? The mechanic? You stayed with him?”

“No, I meant his repair shop. I spent a lot of my afternoons and weekends there. I was always fascinated by motorcycles, and he promised he’d teach me to fix them, but only if I behaved. He made me do a shitload of work at his shop, but I learned so much about cars and motorcycles.” He smiles at the memories.

“That’s a good skill to have.”

“Not if you ask my parents. They thought it was part of me acting out. That I was trying to embarrass them with that kind of work. To them it was a bad thing.”

“How could working be bad?”

“That kind of work is beneath my dad.” He shakes his head in disapproval.

Kora was right. He truly doesn’t get along with his family. But she was also wrong, because he’s not spoiled or trying to get his dad’s attention. I assumed the worst about him, and now I feel guilty. I should’ve made my own judgement first.

“They sound like wonderful people,” I joke.

“Yup. I hope you never have to meet them,” he says glumly.

“Okay, but how come Darlene is so cool? You seem to get along.”

“She’s my grandmother’s sister on my mom’s side. My mom’s family is relatively normal, even though I’m not sure normal is the best word to describe Darlene.” He shares an amused look with me. “But my grandmother died when I was younger, so now it’s just her on that side of the family. She’s the only one who never judged me.”

“How does your mom feel about Darlene’s funeral?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure she knows. I haven’t talked to my mom in a while.”

My heart breaks for him. As much as I sometimes struggle with my own relationship with my mother, I cannot imagine what it would be like to not talk to her.

“No more about me. What about you? Are you close with your family?”