Chapter 2
MATTHEW
I couldn't stop thinking about the kid.
That was the thing about sitting alone at a table in a diner with nothing but a burger and my own thoughts for company. My mind had too much room to wander, and right now, it kept wandering back to the cute guy who'd just ridden away on a sweet bike.
He wasn't a kid, of course. He was probably in his late twenties, but there was something about him that made him seem young. Vulnerable. Something about the way he ordered ice cream as an afterthought and seemed to savor every bite made me wonder what was going on under that mop of brown hair that looked like he’d been running his hands through it for a while. Days, maybe.
But if my ego were being honest, it was pretty damn inflated when I caught him staring at me through the window reflection. Was he curious or interested? I’d never know. And that was driving me up the fucking wall.
I hated having unanswered questions floating around me. Teasing me with what-ifs and possibilities that would never be.
He was just so…fragile. That was the word that kept coming back in my mind. He looked fragile in a way that had nothing to do with his size.
Jeanette came over to refill my coffee with a big smile on her face. She was in an unusually good mood. “Is today a pie night, Matt?”
"No, thanks. Just the check." I drummed my fingers on the table and then caught her attention before she could walk away. "That guy who just left. Is he a regular?"
"Joshua?" She tucked the coffee pot against her hip and raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, he comes in every few weeks. Sweet kid.
Always sits at the same stool and orders the same stuff.
" She glanced toward the door and something shifted in her expression. "He’s been coming in since he was a kid. His grandpa lived nearby. But…” She looked out the window, suddenly distracted.
“But what?”
She was almost startled by my question as she looked back at me. “He was kinda different tonight. Happier, maybe? And he left me a huge tip. Over a hundred bucks. His whole wallet, near as I can tell."
I frowned and sat with that for a second. "Maybe he recently came into some cash?"
"Maybe." She didn't sound convinced as she sighed and took a step back.
"I think he’s had some hard times lately.
Last time, his tip was all in change, so maybe he was trying to make up for some of his lighter times.
" She looked at the door again and then back at me.
"He said I've been great and that he always appreciated my kindness. Almost sounded like a goodbye."
Fuck. That’s what I was afraid of. I was already reaching for my wallet as I stood up. “Yeah, seemed like that to me too. I hope he’s got people looking out for him.” I left enough cash on the table to cover my food and a decent tip then headed out. “Maybe I can catch up to him?”
Jeanette nodded but didn't say anything else. She didn't have to.
Outside, I looked up the road, hoping maybe he was stopped at the gas station or on the side of the road, but of course, he wasn’t. He’d taken off on Highway 1 going north, so maybe he was out for a meandering ride. I didn’t actually believe that was true, but I really wanted it to be.
I got in my truck and headed north too. It was on my way home, anyway.
I drove for maybe ten minutes before I saw it.
The kid’s Harley was parked at one of the narrow pull-outs.
There wasn’t a wide enough space for me to pull over, so I went about thirty yards past the bike and parked.
My truck was mostly off the road, but not completely, so I left the hazards on and jogged toward the bike.
When I got closer, I could see him. Joshua was at the guardrail with his back to me and then he pushed off and started walking toward the edge.
And I ran.
I didn't stop to consider anything other than getting to him before he got to the edge. The pounding of my boots shot gravel in every direction as I moved faster than I had in a while.
When I was close enough, I shouted as loud as I could, but I wasn’t sure he could hear me over the roar of the water hitting rocks. "Stop. Wait."
Just as he lifted his foot to take that final step, my fist caught the back of his jacket, and I yanked him backward.
We both fell to the ground, and I rolled us away from the edge before sitting up to check on him. His eyes were open, but they weren't tracking right, going in and out of focus like he wasn’t fully lucid.
"Hey. Joshua." I got my hands on both his arms and held him upright. "Hey, look at me."
His eyes drifted in my direction, but not quite seeing me.
“Are you hurt? I looked around and saw two prescription bottles on the ground near the guardrail.
My stomach dropped straight through the gravel. "What did you take?"
He didn't answer as his eyes drifted shut. He swayed back, and I had to support his head to keep it from banging on the ground.
“Dammit, kid.” I dragged him over to the bottles and looked at the labels. Ativan. Oxycodone. I shook them both and they were light. Way too light. "Fuck."
When I looked back at him to ask how much he’d taken, he was already unconscious.
I picked him up and bent him over my shoulder and then ran back to the truck.
He wasn't a small guy but adrenaline had a way of making that irrelevant. Even his legs bouncing on my chest wasn’t enough to slow me down.
If I let down and started to leak all over the place, so be it.
I couldn’t worry about being embarrassed about such a trivial thing when this guy's life was literally in my hands.
I got the passenger door open and leaned him back on the seat so he wasn't slumped forward.
My years of CPR certification kicked in, and I was already reaching into the glove box before I'd even fully registered the decision.
The Narcan kit I'd put in there after the pride festival last summer might not be enough, but it was all I had.
I tore open the package and administered it the way I'd watched the volunteer at the booth demonstrate and then pulled out my phone.
Joshua woke up coughing and then retching while I was trying to explain the situation to the dispatcher. I held him by the waist as he leaned over and puked all over the ground.
“Is he awake?” She might have repeated herself a few times before I finally responded.
“Yeah, vomiting it out.” I was only half listening to her as I tried to keep him from making a mess on his clothes. “He’s a lot better.”
She mumbled something else as I rubbed his back, reminding him that he wasn’t alone. “...thirty minutes.”
“Thirty minutes?” I zoned back into the conversation. “For the ambulance? No way. I’ll drive him myself.”
I tossed my phone onto the driver’s seat and dug around the back for the water bottle I put in there that morning. “Here. Drink this.” I wasn’t sure if diluting whatever was left in his stomach was better or worse, but watching him dry heave was almost painful.
He took it without looking at me and rinsed his mouth out before taking a long drink. He just sat there with his hands wrapped around the open bottle for a minute before that water came back up too. “Fuck, that hurts.”
I squeezed his shoulder and ran my palm down his back before stepping away. “Feeling any better?”
He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “I think I’m done puking, if that’s what you mean.”
It wasn’t…but that was a start. “We need to get you to the hospital to make sure you’re okay.”
He laughed at that. “I’m definitely not okay…and I’m definitely not going to the hospital. But thanks for the water.” He handed me the bottle and hopped out of the truck. He was wobbly but stayed on his feet.
"Whoa there." I stepped in front of him with my arms outstretched, and he stopped, not because I was blocking him but because he was still unsteady and needed to find his equilibrium. "Where are you going?"
"Not to a hospital." His voice was rough from the vomiting, but it was clear. "They'll put me on a hold."
At least he wasn’t in denial about what he was doing out here. I appreciated that. I didn’t like playing games. "Yeah, they probably will."
"I don't need that." His jaw was set in a way that told me this wasn't a guy who was gonna be reasoned with on this particular point. "I'm fine."
I pulled out the pill bottles and showed him to them. "These half-empty bottles suggest otherwise."
Joshua shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest, fully functional now. "I threw it all up. It’s over. You can go on with your life. You’ve done your good deed for the day."
It was probably true that the Narcan had done its work and he'd emptied his stomach thoroughly enough not to require actual medical intervention. But whatever drove him to the point of wanting to end his life hadn’t changed, and that was the part I was worried about.
“Have a nice life.” He took a step to the side to go around me.
I moved with him to block his escape. “Just hold on a second.”
He stopped again and really looked at me for the first time since the diner. The way his eyes locked with mine was heartwrenching. They looked so worn out that it almost knocked me back a step.
The poor guy needed a hug more than anything, but I was just a stranger on the side of the road. What he needed from me was space and understanding. "Whatever you're running from will still be there tomorrow."
He didn't say anything, but he swallowed hard, like that brought up some kind of emotion.
"How about you sleep on it and watch the sunrise with me?" I held his gaze, not daring to look away for even a second. "Besides, I make really good pancakes."
He stood there for a long moment, quietly at war with himself over what he should do or say next.
I held up my arms in surrender. “I promise I’m not a creep.
You can call Jeanette right now and let her know you’re hanging out with me tonight so she’ll know where to look if something happens.
” I didn’t want to put ideas in his head, but he seemed like a smart guy who hopefully knew better than to just go home with strangers.
“Jeanette from the diner?” He looked so tired and confused but still had his wits about him. “Why would she care?”
“She cares.” I slipped my hands in my pockets and rocked back on my heels. “I do too. Just come with me tonight. Please.”
Finally he just shook his head in defeat, too exhausted to disagree with me. "Whatever." He looked down at his boots and blew out a heavy breath. "Just no cops or doctors."
"No cops or doctors." I released a heavy breath too, grateful he was willing to give me this one night.
“Uh, you want me to follow you or what?” He started walking toward his bike.
This dude was out of his fucking mind if he thought I was gonna let him get on a bike after everything he’d just experienced. “Not a chance. I’ve got a ramp in the back of my truck. We’ll roll it in.”
He stopped walking and turned back to me. “You ride?”
“Dirtbikes, but yeah.” I walked with him to where his bike was parked down the road. “I was out at Pismo last weekend and left most of my gear in the back.”
The first real smile I’d seen from him came through even in the dark. It was small, but I’d take it. “That’s cool.”
We loaded up his bike, and I secured it to the bed of my truck before taking off for my house.
Joshua was quiet for the first few minutes as we both processed everything that had happened. I was sure he wasn’t asleep, but he stayed still, watching the road pass by with his hands in his lap. At the first bend, he leaned forward and put one hand on the dash to brace himself.
“Feeling sick?” Before he could answer, I pulled over so he could slide out of the truck and heave. There wasn’t much coming out, but his body was efficient at keeping him alive. Whether he liked it or not.
"Sorry." He reached for the water bottle and swished it around in his mouth before spitting it out again. “I thought I was over that shit.”
"Don't worry about it." I handed him a small pack of tissues from my center console so he could wipe his mouth. “Your body just wants you to be healthy.”
He scoffed but didn’t say anything else.
My place was about four miles up the coast, set back from the road on a piece of land my dad had left me.
I moved into it full-time a few years back and had been slowly renovating it as time and money permitted.
It wasn't fancy, but it was warm and had a guest room that nobody used. I had a feeling Joshua wouldn’t need more than that for the night.
I pulled into the gravel drive and cut the engine. We both just sat there for a second before he cocked his head and looked at me. “How did you know my name?”
“Jeanette mentioned it. Said you emptied out your wallet for her tip.” I smiled to lighten the moment. “Hope she doesn’t expect me to do that next time I’m in there.”
His face remained neutral as he turned back to the house.
"I'm Matthew, by the way." I couldn’t remember if I’d said that or not, but if I did, he probably didn’t remember it while he was in the process of dying.
“And you know Jeanette?" He put his hand on the door handle, so I took that as a signal he was ready to get out.
I opened my door and slid out, still talking to keep things light. “Yeah, as much as anyone knows the waitress at their favorite diner. She’s good people.”
Joshua slid out of my truck and wobbled a bit, still unsteady after his ordeal and likely going into shock now that the adrenaline was wearing off.
“The gravel is loose and can be uneven.” I offered him my hand as he stepped away from the truck.
After a brief pause, he took it and let me lead him to the front porch. “What about my bike?”
I didn’t usually lock my door, so I just opened it and flipped on the living room light. “We can leave it in the truck overnight and pull it out tomorrow. It’ll be fine out there.”
He opened his mouth as if to argue but then probably remembered he’d recently left it on the side of the road for someone to hit or steal. The back of my truck in my private driveway was a hell of a lot safer than that. “Yeah, okay.”