Page 25 of Chasing Stardust

“A guy I met in Cleveland. He must’ve lifted my wallet while I was spreading my mom’s ashes. Damn it!” Exhaling a loud breath, I slump against the bench. Jeanie was right. I have no business making this trip alone. “I’m so stupid.”

“I’m sure you’re not—”

“I am. My sister tried to tell me.” Determined not to cry in front of a stranger, I fold my arms across the table and press my face into the center. I should’ve known I couldn’t manage a cross-country trip by myself. Everyone else did. I may as well be a kid playing dress-up.

G-Lo has faith in you.

G-Lo was wrong.

7

Heroes

“Honey, you wanna use the phone to call someone?” Becky hands me a new roll of toilet paper as I cry in the freshly scrubbed bathroom stall.

“No.” I may be a total failure, but there’s no reason for G-Lo and Jeanie to know until I salvage the tatters of my self-esteem. “I don’t want to call my family until I talk to the mechanic.”

“I suppose that’s reasonable.” Becky shoots me a side-eye. “But you should probably call and tell someone you lost your wallet. The bank maybe?”

The paper seat cover crinkles beneath my shorts as I blow my nose, and the sound echoes in the tight space. “Why would the bank care if I lost my wallet?”

“They might if you lost a checkbook or debit—”

“My debit card!” I leap to my feet and bolt out the door as if my life depends on it. The contents of my bank account just might.

“Honey, wait!” Becky swipes at my backside. “You’ve got something stuck to your britches.”

The stupid paper seat liner flaps behind me like a cape as I scurry through the diner, too focused on Clark, scribbling on another napkin across the room, to care.

My feet hit a patch of grease, and I nearly collide with the table, lips moving before my brain catches up. I realize a moment too late that I still don’t know his real name. “C-Can you help me?”

He lifts his gaze, nothing but detached curiosity reflecting in his weird eyes. “What do you need?”

“To call my bank. I-I don’t know the number, so I’ll need to search it up online and, um . . .”

Eyes still locked on mine, Clark reaches around me, snatches the paper cape from my butt, and crumples it into a ball before chucking it into the corner of his seat. Under any other circumstances, I’d be mortified. But today, I’m on a mission.

“My phone died, and no one in this godforsaken diner has an iPhone charger, so I hoped maybe . . .” I dial my smile to eleven.

He lifts his brows. “Maybe . . . ?”

“You’d let me use yours?”

“Yeah. Sure.” He pulls a sleek silver rectangle from his back pocket and hands it to me.

“Thanks.” I flip the device over. Other than the tiny camera lens, it’s the same on both sides. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“You—” He blows out a breath and holds out his hand, palm up. “Give it to me.” He snatches the thing from my fingers and opens it like a clam. After clicking a few keys, he presents what looks like a miniature web browser. “I assume you can handle things from here?”

“Uh . . .” I stare at the tiny screen. Mom had something like this when I was about six. When she got her first iPhone, she gave the old device to Jeanie to play with. I may have snapped it in two trying to wrestle it out of her hands. “Can’t you just ask Siri to call my bank?”

“No.” He laughs. “I can’t ask Siri to do anything.” The laugh dissolves into a groan. “What bank do you use?”

Several phone calls later, after divulging everything but my height, weight, and blood type to my bank, the Cleveland police department, and practically everyone within earshot in the diner, including the hot guy sitting across from me, I settle into my booth with Mom’s diary to watch the sun come up. Until I know how much damage the armadillo caused the Betty, there’s nothing else I can do.

“I don’t mean to pry, and I promise I wasn’t eavesdropping, but I heard you talking to the police . . .”

Clark’s statement catches me off guard—as does the sympathy radiating from his eyes.