The Leftover

by Brooke Williams

The shuffling stopped. “How so?”

  “I’ve met the other contenders and I can’t give anything away, but . . . I don’t know, you’re different.” Cane scratched his cheek. Different was one way of putting it. She was shy, soft spoken and, well, awkward. But he had seen glimpses of the real Megan under the timid exterior, and she had spunk. He didn’t think he’d be alone in rooting for her.

  “Like I haven’t heard that before.”

  “I mean it in a good way. You’ll add a deeper layer to the cast and I think you’ll do well.” Cane understood TV shows often added as much eye candy as possible to keep viewers interested. If Megan could get over her shyness fast enough, he hoped her quick wit would come through and endear her to the audience and the other contestants.

  “You do?”

  “You’ve got a spark. I think the viewers will take to you. Remember Renee Lockhart from the first season of Accept this Dandelion?”

  “You think I’m like her?” Megan sounded offended.

  Cane made a face. Renee might not be a good comparison. She was a disaster around every corner. She lit herself on fire, jumped into pools fully clothed, had embarrassing allergic reactions on camera, and bucked every rule the station put into place. But she was also a regular, everyday girl, and the audience loved her. She was still quite popular around town. “Not in so many ways. I just think you’re relatable and that will draw people to you.”

  “I prefer to be alone.” Megan’s quiet statement was hard to hear over the phone.

  “I got that when we met.” Cane remembered how she avoided his eyes. Social situations made her uncomfortable, that much was clear. He didn’t have that problem himself—he wouldn’t make a very good paramedic if he did—but he was sympathetic toward her plight. She needed all the reassurance she could get. “Look, I’m in no position to tell you what to do. But if I were you, I’d give it a chance. Worst-case scenario, you lose a few days of your life and you make your sister happy.”

  “That’s the worst case?” Megan’s tone brightened.

  “Well, maybe not, but it’s the most likely worst case.”

  “And being a paramedic, you’re good at figuring odds, right?”

  “The best.”

  “Okay, Mr. Trevino. If you run into the producer, tell him I’m in.”

  “Will do, Miss Malone. Will do.” Cane ran his hand through his curly hair. He felt unreasonably glad that Megan would be on the show. What would she bring to the table?

  Megan hung up the phone and dropped over the edge of the couch into her favorite position. She had been nearing full freak-out mode about being a contestant on a Survivor-type TV show. She had allowed herself to delve into notorious “what ifs” and none of them had done her any good. What if she had to swim? What if no one liked her? What if she couldn’t bring herself to talk to anyone? What if she was the first one kicked out? Or what if she embarrassed herself—or her sister—in front of the whole city?

  Cane’s call had pulled her back from the edge in just a few moments. She was still nervous about the show, but after talking to Cane, her demeanor was calm, cool, and collected. Megan knew her sister believed in her, but Molly was biased. Cane seemed to think she was taking the right path as well. Hearing reassurance from a near stranger sent relief coursing through her.

  She hugged the phone to her chest. She was due to meet Molly for their first shopping/training session, but she wanted to savor the moment. She didn’t interact with many people by choice, but her conversation with Cane was different. She felt good about herself . . . about the prospect of the show . . . about life in general. Maybe this opportunity wouldn’t be so bad.

  Megan peeled herself from the couch and adjusted the messy bun on the back of her head. At least she wouldn’t have to wear a glittery dress like on the dating shows the station taped. For a show like The Leftover, she would fit right in with messy hair and a come-as-you-are appearance.

  Ten minutes and a layer of ChapStick later, Megan found her sister outside their favorite mall so they could go through her list of needed items.

  Molly waved the bright yellow sheet in front of Megan’s face. “I have what the show gave me so you’ll be ahead of the game when they call.”

  “Actually, they already called.” She bowed her head in feigned disappointment.

  “They did? And you’re in, aren’t you! Come on, Megan, you can’t play this game.”

  Megan looked up, smiling. “You’re right. I’m no good at faking it. I’m in.”

  Molly squealed and jumped up and down.

  “Be careful, you’ll jostle the baby too much,” Megan scolded.

  “She likes it, don’t worry.”

  “She?”

  Molly shrugged. “Better than calling her ‘it.’ If it’s a boy, I’ll switch gears. Until then, she’ll have to deal with it.”

  Megan grinned as her sister looped her arm through Megan’s elbow, chattering with excitement about the show. After a short walk, Molly dragged Megan into the large sporting goods store at the end of the mall. “Here’s our first stop.”

  Megan shrugged. At least it wasn’t ball gowns. If Molly were to find her some comfortable sweatshirts to take for the cold evenings, she’d be happy.

  “Okay, I want you to have a seat here and I’ll grab some things.” Molly left Megan near a stool in the center of the women’s athletic section. She disappeared behind a rack, leaving Megan alone with her thoughts.

  Megan sat as directed and glanced around at the tight shorts and tops and too bright colors. She preferred jeans and t-shirts, but it could be worse. Megan picked at the seam of her jeans and inspected her cuticles. She should offer to help Molly, but she knew her take-charge sister preferred to choose things on her own.

  “Your dressing room awaits,” Molly’s voice sang out. “You get started and I’ll take another swing around the section and hand other things to you.”

  Megan stood and sidestepped the racks until she found Molly. “This one?” She pointed to the open curtain closest to Molly, who was already buried in another rack.

  “That’s the one.”

  Megan closed the curtain behind her and surveyed the hangers jammed on the hooks in the wall. She let out a low whistle. Her sister worked fast. She grabbed the closest hanger and her eyes widened.

  “Um, Molly?”

  “Yeah?”

  Megan flung the hanger over the door to show the item to her sister.

  “What does this go under?”

  Molly’s voice grew louder as she moved closer. “Nothing. It’s hot in the summer. You’d die of sun stroke if you wore too much.”

  “But what about sunburn?”

  “Sunscreen is on the list of approved items.” Her voice grew softer and Megan knew she was walking away.

  She sighed. She would let Molly have her way for now. She’d try it on and show her, but that was as far as this little number would go.

  Megan threw her t-shirt to the floor and squeezed into the tight sports bra. She removed her jeans and paired the top with an item that looked like a swimsuit bottom. The tag read “running shorts,” but they fit much more like underwear than shorts. Once Megan was situated inside the so-called clothing, she pulled back the dressing room curtain.

  “There is no way in—” Megan stopped dead in her tracks.

  “Megan, you remember Cane, the paramedic from the show, right?” Molly placed a hand on Cane’s shoulder. The two stood ten feet away, and Megan was in full view.

  Megan crossed her arms over her chest and studied the floor. Her mind was telling her to bolt in no uncertain terms, but she couldn’t seem to get her feet to obey.

  “I just stopped in to grab some more Ace bandages for the show and I spotted Molly over here and came by to say hello,” Cane explained.

  Megan slid her feet on the floor, one behind the other as she edged her way back into the dressing room behind her. No one was supposed to see her in this getup, much less the cute medic.

  “Um, h
i,” she said as she jerked the dressing room curtain closed behind her. Too little too late. He’d already gotten an eyeful.

  “Well, I better get going. Nice to run into you, Molly.” Cane’s voice raised a decibel. “Looking forward to spending time with you on the show, Megan.”

  Megan peeked out from behind the curtain and caught Molly watching Cane walk away.

  “Well, that was embarrassing,” she hissed.

  “What are you talking about?” Molly frowned and walked over to her, looking her over with a critical eye. “You look great. Did you see Cane? He was definitely checking you out.”

  “Shut up, Molly.”

  “He was! He even said he was looking forward to spending time with you.” Molly dug her elbow into Megan’s exposed side. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say something was a-brewin’ there.”

  “Whatever. He was just being polite.” Megan blushed and rolled her eyes.

  Molly winked. “We’ll see about that. Anyway, that looks good on you. Does it fit okay?”

  Megan looked down at the limited amount of fabric covering her chest. She let go of the curtain and, in the privacy of her booth, craned her head around to see her backside. There were definitely pieces of her cheeks hanging out in the rear. “That depends on your definition of ‘fit.’”

  “You have a nice figure,” Molly called. “Whether you believe it or not.”

  Megan pictured her sister on the other side of the curtain. Molly was tall, thin, and muscular. Megan was short and squat, in her opinion.

  “Just try on the rest.” Molly’s voice faded away.

  It took Megan multiple attempts and several unladylike grunts to get the sports bra off, but once she did, she felt free. Cane had already seen her in it, but that didn’t mean she had to show so much of the goods to the rest of the city. She was going on the show to please her sister, but she had to draw the line somewhere. It was time to take a stand.

  “I don’t think these are going to work for me, Mol.” She tossed a few of the skimpier clothes over the top of the dressing room’s curtain rail.

  “I’m just trying to help.”

  Megan pulled her clothes back on and her body sighed in relief at their comfortable, well-covered surroundings. Megan pulled back the curtain and stepped out of the dressing room to face her downcast sister. “I know and I appreciate it. You’re the only one in the world I would go on this show for. But you told me the other contestants would love me once they got to know me so I have to go onto the show as, well, me.”

  Molly held her hands up as if to show defeat. “You’re absolutely right and I’m sorry. You wear whatever makes you comfortable. I’m in your corner whether you’re wearing a sports bra and running shorts or,” she gestured at Megan’s wrinkled t-shirt and old jeans, “that.”

  Megan looked down at herself and smiled. Molly understood her better than anyone. She tried to push Megan outside her comfort zone more often than not, but she was okay backing off when Megan pushed back. Megan had committed to doing the show. Now that she was up to her ears in this challenge, the least she could do was wear comfortable clothing.

  Chapter Six

  Cane spotted the news anchors chatting over coffee before the next live program. It was surreal seeing people he knew from TV in person, but then again, he was one of those people as well. People still remembered his stint on local reality TV. He rounded the corner that led to the back offices and picked up speed. He had a lot to organize. He needed to pack his makeshift exam room and double check his supplies. Living on location would be complicated and he should be prepared. He was carrying a stack of newly purchased Ace bandages and wished he hadn’t rejected the offer of a plastic bag. He pushed the packages under his chin and tried to watch his step.

  When his shoulder rammed into another moving body, the precariously balanced bandages flew in all directions. But nothing startled Cane like the sight that met his eyes when he raised his chin.

  “Eva.” He breathed her name.

  “C-Cane, what are you—”

  “I took a job as the medic for the new show KETO is taping next week.”

  Eva nodded. “You’ll be great.”

  “And what are you doing here?”

  Eva blushed. “I just stopped by to see . . .”

  Brian. Of course. She didn’t have to say it. Brian was the

  morning news anchor at the station and had been the host of Accept this Dandelion, the dating show where Eva and Cane had met. When Cane heard that Brian had not been asked to host The Leftover, he was relieved. He was on his way to getting over Eva, but he still did not want to work with the man she chose over him.

  “I’m sorry,” Eva continued. “This is very awkward. I didn’t mean to put you in this position.”

  Cane shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You didn’t know I’d be here.” He allowed himself a moment to study her. Her shiny hair glistened, even under the dull hall lights. Her nervous smile made his heart beat faster.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Cane remembered how his heart had ached the day she turned him away. There she’d stood at the end of the long aisle, the studio decorated with dandelions and landscape rocks. She’d looked glamorous, as usual, in an off-the-shoulder black dress with a diamond necklace, her hair loose and wavy, framing her face and catching every ounce of the bright studio lights. He’d been certain she would choose him all the way up until the moment she told him he was everything she was looking for, but . . . Inserting “but” into any conversation like that meant it was going downhill. She’d told him that as much as she wanted him to be “the one,” her heart led her elsewhere.

  In shock, he’d walked off-screen and learned she also turned down Steve, the other contestant among the final two. Moments later, she ran into the arms of the show’s host, Brian, who was also the KETO news anchor. After that fateful day, she had let a full month go by before calling him. When she finally had, she told him she was worried that if she had called sooner, he would have jumped to the wrong conclusion. There was no hope of a relationship.

  “I just wanted to tell you how sorry I was and that I never intended for any of this to happen,” she’d said on the phone. “Honestly, I planned to pick you, but when it came down to it, I just couldn’t.”

  “That’s supposed to help?” Cane had asked in reply, bitterness coloring his tone.

  “I suppose not.” He had heard the hurt in her voice over the phone. She hadn’t come out of the situation without anguish either, even if she did have a happy ending. “You need to know it’s nothing you said or did. You know more about how the heart operates than I’ll ever know. I hope you understand that as much as I expected things to work out between us, my heart chose Brian.”

  Hearing the words didn’t feel good, even a month after they’d split on TV. But Cane had appreciated her concern. “I’m glad you’re happy, Eva.” And he’d meant it, though a part of him still hoped it was her calling every time his phone rang in the past year.

  But that didn’t make seeing her in person any easier now. Cane shifted his feet. He had no idea what to say. Their relationship on Accept this Dandelion had been easy, but this was downright hard.

  She opened her arms and took a small step forward. Cane took his hands from his pockets and allowed her to initiate a brief hug.

  “Good to see you, Cane,” she murmured as she pulled away. Then she walked down the hall.

  He turned and watched her go. He thought she was the woman for him, but Eva was right. If she didn’t feel for him what he felt for her, their relationship never would have worked. Perhaps it was better that it ended sooner rather than later. Any additional time spent with her would have caused him to fall harder.

  Cane knelt to gather the bandages. Seeing Eva wasn’t easy, but his heart hurt slightly less now that he realized how awkward things were between them. She’d found someone to love. Perhaps it was time he started looking again himself.

  “Those stairs?�
�� Megan shielded her eyes and craned her neck, trying to see the top of the metal stadium steps.

  “Yeah, remember when I used to come here to train for track?” Molly positioned herself on the bottom bleacher.

  “Of course. Remember how I brought my magazine to kill time while you ran?”

  “I didn’t forget.” Molly pulled a magazine from her oversized bag and leaned back on the second step. She hitched her thumb over her shoulder. “Get to it.”

  Megan shook her head. She was already exhausted. The stair workout was last on a long list of items Megan had already checked off that day, none of which she had enjoyed. Molly had started her out easy with a walk through the forest. Then she had ramped up the intensity with an obstacle course Megan was fairly certain was meant for dogs. Then, laps at the pool—where Megan again felt like a dog, given that her stroke of choice was the doggy paddle—followed by weight lifting. And now this stair climb torture.

  Molly made the physical stuff look so easy. Megan realized she was probably lucky her sister was pregnant so she wouldn’t run beside her and egg her on. May as well get it over with. She jogged up two stairs, three, four. Her breath came faster and she could feel the sweat forming on her upper lip.

  She counted the stairs all the way up. Forty. Now, the easy part—time to go down. When she reached her sister, she put her hands on her knees and gasped for breath. “There,” she said when she could. “Happy?”

  “Ecstatic.” Molly glanced at her over the magazine. “Again.”

  Megan glared at her sister as she turned and took the stairs again, this time slower. What good would this do? There weren’t going to be any stairs on the show. How much could she improve her level of fitness in two days?

  By the time Megan got to the bottom of the flight again, her glasses were steamed over and sliding down her nose.

  “You can’t do it a third time, can you?” Her sister’s challenging tone bounced off the magazine and hit Megan’s ears like fingernails on a chalkboard.

  Megan scowled but didn’t answer. She threw herself up the stairs again, this time taking her aggravation out on the metal beneath her. When she returned, her sister was standing and clapping.