Chapter 2
Still Indy
I hovered in the doorway of the chain diner in indecision. Did I seriously just follow him four blocks to this dump? I never would’ve thought it was the type of place a Burns Brother would deign to sit in, let alone eat.
But there he was, sitting in the back corner of the crappy diner and perusing a sticky menu with another menu sitting across from him.
I eyeballed the two gangly, mean mugging guys sitting at the counter and quickly walked past them. My backpack clanged with the telltale sound of my spray cans with every step. I was used to the cadence, but it sounded overly loud in the quiet diner.
And awkward.
Sighing, I tossed my bag onto the bench opposite him and climbed in after.
I didn’t even bother opening the menu. I already knew my order. Dad had taken me here often enough since I’d moved in with him last fall.
Proven by the spark of recognition in Anne’s eyes as she approached our booth.
I shook my head slightly and she tipped her chin in acknowledgement.
“What can I get you kids?”
I rattled off my order then added, “separate checks, please.”
His gaze didn’t leave my face the whole time he ordered. It should’ve made me feel creeped out…but I wasn’t. His expression was totally open, like he was curious about me. Zero hint of sexual interest.
“So, you come here often?” He laughed slightly as Anne left with our menus, promising to return with our drinks.
I shrugged, uncomfortable. It wasn’t like this was the best place. But it was affordable, which was pretty much my only criteria.
He tipped his chin at me. “Personally, I’m a fan of the stuffed French toast, but I can’t get that this late. I’d never be able to fall asleep later—too rich.”
I scoffed. Right. Rich.
His lips quirked in acknowledgement of his words.
We sat there for a few moments in strained silence. Long enough for Anne to return with my water and his decaf then leave again after another curious glance my way.
“So, how do you know my dad?” he asked as he added more sugar and creamer to his coffee than I’d ever seen a man use before. “Does he owe you or your family money?”
“What? I don’t know your dad. I don’t even know your name. Mostly because you still haven’t introduced yourself.”
One eyebrow went up in a cocky, smug expression that was somehow both annoying as hell and hot as fuck. “If I introduce myself, common decency would mean you should tell me yours. Are you going to tell me yours?”
I didn’t even have to think—my head was already shaking with my answer.
“That’s what I thought.” He sat back against the booth back with that smug grin curving his sexy lips. “That’s okay. I’m Dylan, the youngest and most screwed up of the Burns brothers. Nice to meet you.” He jerked his chin at me.
Dylan. Seriously? I was sitting across from the exact Burns brother I’d wanted to avoid. I fought like hell to keep my poker face in place. “Is it though? I mean I defaced your shop, and I’ve called you an arrogant asshole at least five times.”
“What? No, you haven’t.” He blinked. “I mean, I remember the art but not the insults.”
“Oh right. Those might not have been out loud.” I hitched a shoulder as some of my disdain leaked out. “Sorry. Not sorry.”
His laugh was husky…and surprising. Why did he have to be so nice about everything—the mural insulting his family and business, my blatant insults to his face—nothing seemed to faze him.
It was seriously annoying.
“I’d love to know what you’re thinking right now to put that expression on your face, but given what you just confessed…
I’m gonna pass.” But his eyes twinkled as he tapped his fingertips against the top of his bench seat.
“So if you’re not going to tell me your name, how about you tell me what you do?
Do you go to school? Do you have a job? Or do you just run around like Batman and avenge wrongs? ”
I snorted—a very embarrassing and unattractive sound, gah!—then shook my head. “I’m no Batman. Or Banksy, for that matter. Your additions made the mural so much better than what I was going to do.”
“I’m going to guess art student at a local college…” Dylan’s eyes narrowed on me as he squinted slightly. “Sacramento State?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “UC Davis.”
“Seriously? That’s awesome. I took some art classes at Sac City—just enough to hate myself and the instructors. College was not for me.”
His adulation made my skin feel itchy. “Art school isn’t for me either. I’m in marketing and communications,” I muttered grudgingly. “Or I was.”
He hummed softly. “Was? What does that mean? What happened?”
I huffed out a breath and avoided his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.”
Tears burned my eyes, but I’d be damned if I let them fall in front of him. Not again.
Everything felt so brittle, like I was on the verge of collapsing in on myself like a dying star. I didn’t know what to do. How was I going to get through this?
“You got this. I’ve known you all of an hour, not even that, and I can already tell you’re a tough-take-no-shit woman. You’re strong. Whatever is going on, you’ll figure it out. And I’ll help you with whatever I can.”
That got my attention.
I jerked my gaze to him, but it was hard to see through the tears pooling in my eyes. “What? Why would you do that? Why would you help me?”
“Because I can.” He tipped his head and looked away for a moment before returning my gaze again. “And because like recognizes like.”
I wasn’t anything like him. I’d never got myself a sweetheart deal while screwing everyone else over. I was no snitch. My lip curled at the thought. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just…that I see a lot of myself in you. I’ve had to climb out of a pit myself. Still climbing actually.” His lips quirked, and his eyes held so much pain I actually believed him. “And I’d really like to help you get your feet under you if I can.”
“A value plate with bacon.” A plate landed in front of me with a clatter. “And a choconana pancake breakfast with all the fixings. What’s going on, Indy? Why are you here with him, and why are you crying? Did your dad do something?”
Oh god. Just when I thought tonight couldn’t get any worse.
I should’ve left the second Anne showed up at our table. Back when I first moved out here to live with my dad, he’d been dating Anne…on the side, apparently. They broke up after a few months when she found him in our apartment parking lot with another woman on the back of his bike.
And I’d liked Anne. More than my dad actually. Which should’ve been the first red flag of many, but I’d been too blind to see them at the time.
“It’s fine, Anne.” I was shellshocked, honestly. I never would’ve thought Anne would throw down for me. I hadn’t seen her in months. The last time my dad had brought me here and she was working, we’d left after she’d showered him in syrup and angry words. It’d been embarrassing…and kinda awesome.
“What did you do, Dylan? She better not be pregnant. Indy here is smarter and more talented than her asshole father. She doesn’t need another useless asshole in her life, so leave the kid alone.
” After slapping the bill down on the table in front of Dylan—only one, not split like I’d asked—she sent another dirty glare at Dylan.
“I was just on the way to finding that out on my own. I just met—Indy, was it?—tonight. But it’s nice to know what you really think of me, Anne. And here I thought you liked me.”
“Anyone who gets my girl crying at 3AM isn’t worth a damn in my book. No matter how much you tip. Seriously, Indy, are you okay? What’s going on?”
Apparently no matter how hard you wished, the ground wouldn’t actually open up and swallow you whole. And I knew I wasn’t going to be able to dodge two busy-bodies poking into all my sore spots, so I laid it all out. Or almost all out.
“The landlord locked me out tonight while I was out. And since my car got repossessed last month, it looks like I’m homeless.”
“Oh Indy,” Anne breathed, her features blurred with my tears, but I knew I wasn’t imagining the sympathetic expression on her face.
I felt naked. Like all my wounds and inadequacies were laid out in front of both of them. Seriously, when was that escape hatch going to open?
“And your dad?” Dylan asked. “Where’s he?”
Anne’s eyes widened, and I knew without asking she was up to date on the current court docket.
I shook my head slightly. “He, uh, he took off over a month ago. And I’m just finding out now that he’d let a few things slide in the months leading up to his sudden disappearance.
He stopped paying my car note, rent, and most of the utilities apparently.
And since my name isn’t on any of the bills, there’s not much I can do about it. ”
“Oh honey.” The bench jostled as Anne sat next to me and put her arms around me. “You have got the world’s worst luck, kiddo.”
My laugh was more of a sob as I fought against the wave of pain threatening to swamp me. I wasn’t going to give in because I knew once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop crying.
Just then my stomach rumbled.
Anne patted my shoulder then pulled away. “A value plate is not going to cut it tonight. How about some stuffed French toast?”
I couldn’t even look his way. “This is plenty. It’s 3AM.”
“And I’m getting you some stuffed French toast. You deserve it. Just…don’t do anything rash, okay, kiddo? Me and you will sit down and hash out your options. We’ll figure something out. At the very least, I have a couch you can sleep on. And you’re not alone, okay?”
I nodded tightly, but it didn’t feel that way. I might’ve been sitting with two supportive people, but I felt so alone.
Always alone.
Anne patted my shoulder again then stood up. “I’ll be back with your stuffed French toast.”
As she walked away, I picked up my fork and dug into my scrambled eggs. I didn’t even have a chance to lift my fork before the salt and pepper shakers slid across the table to me. Suddenly it was hard to swallow my own saliva, let alone the rubbery eggs on my fork.
“I know a little something about shitty fathers.” That was all he said before he dug into his own breakfast plate.
I let out a shaky breath. “That’s the thing.
He wasn’t a shitty father at first. Technically first he was absent.
But then my grandma died—she raised me, I don’t even remember my mom.
But he stepped up. I was three months from graduation, and he showed up and stayed.
Lived in Ohio with me until I graduated and then we moved back here. And that’s when it all went to hell.”
I couldn’t say any more about it. I didn’t want to delve into all the ways our histories crossed. The part Dylan played in my dad going away. I wanted to throw it in his face, but it was so hard to do when he was being all kind and understanding.
Or maybe I’d just been drowning and now was thankful for the life ring he’d tossed my way.
I was so confused.
“Grief will do that to you.”
I jolted at Dylan’s quiet words. After blinking a few times, I found him staring sympathetically at me, his choconana pancakes no doubt cold by now. “Did I say that out loud? I must be more tired than I thought.”
Sighing, I scrubbed at my aching eyes, then I looked down and saw all the crusty paint stains still dotting my hands. I was a literal mess.
Fuck my life.
I probably should’ve cared, but I just didn’t have it in me at the moment.
“I get the vibe that you and Anne know each other?”
I tipped my head. “She dated my dad for a hot minute. She’s actually a grade-school teacher, but she picks up some extra shifts here when her ex has the kids. She’s nice, I guess. She has killer aim with a syrup bottle.”
“Noted.” Dylan laughed huskily. “So she has kids?”
I nodded. “And a roommate—a teacher she works with, I think.” All crammed in a three-bedroom apartment. Not that I’m going to complain. “A couch is better than the sidewalk.”
My throat grew tight and suddenly it was so hard to breathe, let alone think. Tears clouded my eyes again. I felt so stupid.
So stupid and so freaking tired.
Why was all this so hard?
“I agree. A couch is definitely better than the sidewalk.” Dylan grabbed the syrup bottle and doused his pancakes with an amount of syrup that would make a six-year-old proud. “It’s definitely the safe option.”
His lips curved with some inner thought, then he shook his head slightly.
“What?” I picked up a flaccid piece of bacon and winced.
“Just…I used to have a roommate, but she moved out recently. Mostly.”
“Mostly? That doesn’t sound like she’s moved out.”
He hitched a shoulder as he dug into his choconana pancakes.
“Technically she never moved in. She’s my childhood best friend.
Anyway, she got into a shitty situation with her apartment and needed a place to stay.
Only, I’ve been using my spare bedroom as an art studio, so she was camped out on my couch…
until she started seeing my brother. They’ve been pretty inseparable.
I can’t remember the last time she slept at my place.
” He took a huge bite of his pancakes, then mumbled around his full mouth.
“Which is unfortunate since I finally got around to setting up a murphy bed in my spare room.”
My eyes flew to his as I registered what he was implying. I could have a bedroom with a closing door…
I just had to stay with him.
He tipped his head. “It’d be pretty easy to move my art stuff out into the living room now that I’ve cleaned it up. What do you think? Couch with Anne or a bedroom in my apartment?”