“Well, shit. I’m sorry to hear it.”
“We all gotta go sometime,” Enzo declares. Despite the flippant tone of his statement, the expression on his face shows he’s feeling this deeply.
“Doesn’t make it any easier,” I tell him gently, placing my hand on his arm.
His watery, red-rimmed eyes turn up to me.
“No. No it don’t.”
“What’s gonna happen to the Dirty Dog?” Kim asks, and this time Eddie speaks up.
“Crazy bastard left it to that Bennet boy.”
For the rest of my shift, I’m preoccupied with what Eddie said. Wondering if that’s perhaps what has kept Gray busy these past days.
Becca, who has been scheduled on the afternoon shift, comes in at a little before four. She smiles at me as she has for a while now, reluctantly.
“Everything okay, Becca?” I ask when she slips around me behind the counter to tuck her purse away.
“I’m fine.”
The response is instant and as fake as her smile has been, ever since the day I saw her greeting Gray when he came to pick up the keys to my SUV. The same day he picked me up after work and kissed the stuffing out of me, right outside the diner windows.
I had dismissed the earlier incident as maybe old acquaintances and what happened after between Gray and I solidified that conclusion. I’d never even bothered to ask him about it, but now I’m wondering if perhaps I should’ve.
I’m not a fan of confrontation, but I’m even less of a fan of stress in the workplace, so I turn to Becca.
“Are you sure? You seem a little tense.”
Something flares in her eyes. Anger? Hurt? I can’t quite place it when she turns her face away.
“Just some personal stuff. Sorry if I’ve been off.”
“Don’t apologize. I was worried perhaps it was something I’d done?”
She hesitates, just a fraction too long, before she answers with a forced smile on her face as she looks at me.
“Not at all.”
Now I recognize the anger simmering behind her eyes.
“Good,” I mumble, more than a bit taken aback as I grab my things and with a wave goodbye, head for the parking lot.
Maybe it’s time to get some answers.
The snow is starting to come down again when I pull into Olson’s, but I’m disappointed when I find only Tank inside.
Gray
“Asshole.”
My head snaps up as I trudge into the shop, after pulling yet another fucking idiot out of the ditch. Eight of them today alone.
My mood is already in the sewer and having Jimmy greet me like that doesn’t improve it one bit.
“What the fuck?” I snap.
“She was here. Looking for you.”
“Who?”
I know damn well who he’s talking about. The same ‘she’ I’ve been avoiding since she asked about Thanksgiving. For some reason that innocent message chilled the blood in my veins. I haven’t talked to her since. An asshole move—Jimmy’s right about that—but the prospect of Thanksgiving at her place, meeting her mother and daughter, made this whole thing a little too real. I’m not sure I’m ready for that.
Jimmy doesn’t buy my feigned ignorance either.
“She’s worried about you, since apparently you’ve been ghosting her for days. You can be a selfish bastard; you know that? First person she lets close in years. And you? You fucking dine and dash. Nice.”
My temper flares and I shove my clenched fists in my pockets for fear of letting them fly.
“You don’t know a fucking thing about it,” I bite off.
“No. I don’t,” he spits, stepping dangerously close to my space and I take an inadvertent step back. “Because you don’t talk.” I flinch at the unexpected accusation. “I don’t know what goes on in your head, but I know it can’t be fucking easy. Because you…don’t…talk.” Every word is emphasized with a finger poking my chest and I have a hard time keeping from breaking his hand, so I take another step back.
“Nothing to talk about.”
Exasperated, Jimmy throws his hands up in the air and lets loose a colorful string of curses. Then he closes his eyes and sucks air in through his nose before looking at me, and he continues in a carefully restrained voice.
“Then why is it, you suddenly blow off a woman most men would give their left nut to have in their bed? Last week you started to remind me of the man I knew, but over the past few days, I watched you crawl right back into your shell.”
“Thanksgiving,” I blurt out. I can tell from the confused look on his face he’s not getting me, so I clarify. “I think she wants to invite me for dinner.”
“So?”
“Her mother and daughter will be there.”
“And?”
Apparently my explanations aren’t helping him understand.
“Family holiday, Jimmy. I’m sure her family won’t be happy she’s slumming with an ex-con.” He opens his mouth to protest, but I don’t give him a chance. “Last Thanksgiving I celebrated, my baby sister was sitting across the table from me. Haven’t had much to be thankful for since then.”
Understanding dawns on his face and his eyes close again.
“Jesus,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I hadn’t even considered that.”
“I hadn’t either, until she brought up the subject,” I admit. “Hit me like a ton of bricks.”
“Why not just explain?”
I shrug.
“Does it matter? Not like this could’ve gone anywhere.”
“Are you for fucking real? Are you so self-absorbed you can’t see how unfair that is to her? Right now Robin worries it’s because of something she’s done. You at least owe her the truth on that, even if things don’t work out, you can’t let her believe it was in any way her fault.”
Shit. I fucking hate it when I’m wrong.
“I’ll tell her.”
“When?” he pushes, like he did the first time he called me out on my self-defeatist bullshit.
“After work.”
“Get the fuck out of here. You’re done for the day.”
I stare at him for a moment, catching the sincerity in his eyes. Then I turn on my heel, but before I even get back to the truck, my phone rings in my pocket. I don’t recognize
