it had a distinctive crack in the right corner of the screen. She wore a pair of white earbuds, the cord dangling over the front of her Flames T-shirt.
“Thanks for rescuing us,” Audrey said.
“No problem at all.”
He pulled onto the street, and Audrey gave him the basic directions. The sky was pitch-black now, and the streetlights rolled past with measured frequency, lighting up the gold lengths of her hair for a moment before dropping them back into darkness again. His headlights swept across the quiet street. There was a lone person riding a bicycle, and most of the houses had glowing windows, but it was so still. So peaceful.
“And uh…thanks for not blowing my cover before.” Audrey kept her voice low, though with the sound of whatever was blaring from Deanna’s headphones, she wouldn’t have heard a damn thing anyway. Ronan fought the urge to tell her to turn it down or else she might damage her hearing.
Maybe you are an old man after all.
“Your sister doesn’t know you’re taking my course?”
“My whole family doesn’t, actually.” She glanced out the window—or maybe she was looking at the reflection shimmering in the glass. “We, uh…don’t have much money.”
Ronan bobbed his head, unsure whether he should confirm that he’d picked up on that already. “Right.”
“I work two jobs, plus picking up whatever extra bits and pieces I can, and everything goes to the family…except I put aside enough to take a single class every semester.” She glanced at him. “I know that probably seems incredibly selfish.”
“That you save a little money to educate yourself? No, I don’t think that’s selfish at all.”
She pointed ahead to the next street he needed to take. “As it is, my aunt pays half. She’s the only one who knows about it, and she’s always tried to encourage me to keep studying.”
“Your aunt who owns the crystal shop?” For some reason, that surprised him, but he guessed that was his personal bias showing. She reminded him of his artist mother, who thought all schools were societal indoctrination camps.
“Just because she believes in astrology and crystals doesn’t mean she undervalues education,” Audrey said. “It’s possible for belief and knowledge to exist side by side.”
“Have you tried getting some official support for your studies?” he asked. “Many colleges have scholarships and other types of student-assistance programs. I’m not sure about Harrison Beech, but—”
“I’m not eligible.”
He steered onto another street as Audrey directed him. “Why? I’m sure if you can prove that you’re in a low-income house—”
“I’m not eligible.” This time her words had a little more bite, and Ronan blinked. When he didn’t ask anything further, she sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t… I know I’m not eligible, okay? It’s not an option for me. Not at this college, anyway.”
And if she was supporting the family, then Harrison Beech probably was her only option. Even though he didn’t know Audrey that well, he couldn’t imagine she would leave her siblings to go and study in some other town. Her loyalty and care glowed like the brightest star, and it was easily one of the most beautiful things about her.
“They don’t have scholarships?” Ronan shook his head. “That’s ridiculous. Education should be available to everyone.”
“They have scholarships. But I didn’t finish high school, so therefore I’m not eligible, because that’s one of the criteria.” Her gaze was glued to the passenger-side window now, like she couldn’t stand to look at him. “It’s fine. I made the right decision for my family, and I wouldn’t go back and change it, even if I had the chance.”
Ronan didn’t consider himself an overly emotional person, but listening to the resolve and marble-like commitment in Audrey’s voice was like scraping a knife over his heart. This woman, who clearly loved knowledge and learning more than anything, hadn’t been able to finish high school.
Of course he realized that she said she didn’t finish high school, like it was her choice. But Ronan could put the pieces of the puzzle together—dead mother, four younger siblings, no mention of a father figure…her choice wasn’t exactly a choice.
“I love my family,” she added fiercely. “I would do anything for them.”
“That comes across very clearly. They’re lucky to have you.”
He turned down another street, and suddenly it felt like Kissing Creek was a world away. Instead of the rows of neat redbrick homes with gambrel rooves and tidy lawns, the houses here were smaller and simpler. Some were in a state of disrepair, with broken mailboxes and peeling paint. Others were