Chapter 3
Hayden
“Ican find it, Aunt Dolly. You don’t have to—”
“Nonsense, sugar,” she said, patting me on the shoulder in a way that said stop arguing with me. “I can’t be a bad host. That’s a sin right up there with cheap perfume and lukewarm biscuits!”
I furrowed my brow, wondering where the hell she’d come up with that saying. “You’re not being a bad host. It’s just a room. And I can find the door.”
“Honey, it’s not just a room,” she said, steering me toward the back of the diner with a grip that was surprisingly strong for someone who barely came up to my shoulder.
“It’s your room. For the next month, anyway.
And I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let you wander around back there like a lost puppy on your first day. That just ain’t right.”
She pushed through a door marked “PRIVATE” and led me down a short hallway that smelled like cleaning supplies and something vanilla-scented.
The walls were painted the same cheerful yellow as the diner’s exterior, and there were framed photos hanging everywhere, mostly of Dolly with various people I didn’t recognize, all of them grinning like they’d just won the lottery.
“Now, I know it ain’t much,” she was saying as she fished a set of keys out of her apron pocket.
“But it’s got everything you need. Kitchen’s fully stocked, bathroom’s clean, and the bed’s got a memory foam mattress that cost me more than my first car.
” She paused, glancing back at me. “I made sure to give it a deep clean after that rascal I had to drive off with a shotgun.”
I wasn’t sure if she was telling one of those Texas tall tales or the truth, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
We stopped at a door at the end of the hallway, painted white with a little wreath hanging on it that was probably left over from last Christmas.
Dolly unlocked it and pushed it open, then stepped aside to let me go first.
I walked in and immediately felt some of the tension in my shoulders ease.
It was small, sure, but it was... cozy. The living area had a worn but comfortable-looking couch, a small TV, and a kitchenette with everything I’d need to avoid eating every meal at the diner.
Through an open doorway I could see a bedroom with that promised memory foam bed and a quilt that looked handmade.
“Dolly, this is...” I turned to face her, surprised by how my voice caught slightly. “This is really nice. Thank you.”
She waved me off like it was nothing, but I caught the pleased smile she was trying to hide.
“Like I said, it ain’t much. But it’s yours for as long as you need it.
” She paused, studying my face with those sharp blue eyes.
“And sugar? Whatever happened that sent you runnin’ all the way out here? It’s gonna be okay.”
I felt my throat tighten at her words, and for a terrifying moment I thought I might actually start crying right there in front of her. I blinked hard and looked away, focusing on a ceramic rooster sitting on the windowsill above the kitchen sink.
“I’m fine,” I managed, though we both knew it was bullshit. “Just needed a change of scenery, like I said.”
“Mm-hmm.” She didn’t sound convinced, but thankfully she didn’t push.
Instead, she bustled over to the kitchen area and started opening cabinets.
“Coffee’s in here, and I stocked the fridge with the basics.
There’s sandwich meat, eggs, milk, and some strawberry jam I put up this past summer.
Oh, and I put some of my chocolate chip cookies in there too, though they probably won’t last long knowing you. ”
Despite everything, I found myself almost smiling. “You remember that?”
“Honey, you ate three dozen cookies in two days that summer. Your mama was convinced you were gonna make yourself sick, but I told her a growing boy needs his sweets.” She pulled out a plate covered in plastic wrap.
“Speaking of which, I made these fresh this morning. Call it a welcome home present.”
Home. There was that word again, hitting me right in the chest. This wasn’t home.
Home was... well, I didn’t really know what home was anymore.
Definitely not Tommy’s sterile apartment with its white walls and designer furniture that I wasn’t allowed to touch.
And not my parents’ place in Boston, where I always felt like I was visiting a public museum.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, taking the plate. The cookies were still slightly warm, and the smell of vanilla and chocolate made my mouth water. “For all of this. I know I kind of sprung this on you.”
“Sugar, family don’t spring things on family.
Family just shows up when they need to.” She patted my arm again, and I was starting to realize this was just how Dolly showed affection.
Through food and gentle touches and calling everyone pet names.
“Now, I’m gonna let you get settled. Dinner rush starts in about an hour, so I need to get back out there.
But if you need anything, and I mean anything, you just holler. ”
She headed toward the door, then paused with her hand on the knob. “Oh, and Hayden? There’s a Christmas festival this weekend. Nothing fancy, just the whole town getting together to drink hot chocolate and argue about whose lights are the prettiest. You should come.”
“I don’t really do the Christmas thing,” I said automatically.
She turned back to face me, one perfectly plucked eyebrow raised.
“Well, honey, you’re in Texas now. We do Christmas whether you like it or not.
It’s basically on Olympic sport out here.
” Her expression softened. “Besides, might do you some good to get out and meet some people. Can’t hide in here forever. ”
Before I could argue, she was gone, leaving me with only my thoughts and the sound of her heels clicking down the hallway. I stood there holding the plate of cookies, feeling like I’d been hit by a small, blonde hurricane.
“Meet people,” I muttered to myself, setting the cookies down on the kitchen counter. “Right. Because that worked out so well in California.”
I wandered through the apartment, taking stock of my new temporary home.
It was small but spotless, with worn furniture that somehow managed to look both dated and comfortable.
The bathroom had been recently updated with a new shower and toilet, though the sink still had that vintage mint-green look that was probably older than I was.
The bedroom was cozy, with a double bed taking up most of the space.
The quilt was definitely handmade, all blues and greens in a pattern that reminded me of ocean waves.
There was a dresser against one wall and a small closet that would barely fit half my wardrobe.
But I’d only brought two suitcases stuffed with my most important items. Clothing was low on that list.
I flopped down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The mattress really was as comfortable as Dolly had promised. Memory foam that molded perfectly to my body, easing some of the aches from three days of driving and sleeping in cheap motels.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out without thinking. Three missed calls from Mom, two texts from my so-called friend Anthony, and… My heart stuttered. There was text from Tommy.
Tommy: Hope you made it wherever you’re going safely. We should talk when you’re ready.
“Fuck you,” I said out loud, my voice sounding too harsh in the quiet room. I deleted the message without replying, then turned my phone off completely. The silence that followed felt both terrifying and liberating.
I could hear the faint sounds of the diner from outside. There were dishes clattering, the murmur of voices, and someone laughing. Life going on while I hid away like some wounded animal that had crawled into a den to lick its wounds.
Dolly was right about one thing though. I couldn’t hide in here forever. But I could definitely hide for tonight. Or maybe for the next month until I finally could go home.
I kicked off my shoes and stretched out on the bed, letting the exhaustion of the past few days wash over me. Just a quick nap, I told myself. Then I’d unpack, maybe take a shower, try one of Dolly’s cookies...
When I opened my eyes again, the room was dark except for the faint glow of a streetlamp filtering through the thin curtains. I fumbled for my phone before remembering I’d turned it off. The clock on the nightstand read half past nine. I’d slept for over three hours.
My mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and my stomach was growling loud enough to wake the neighbors, if I had any.
I sat up slowly, my head spinning a bit.
The room felt unfamiliar for a moment before I remembered where I was.
Sagebrush. Aunt Dolly’s place. A thousand miles from Tommy and all his stupid bullshit.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, stretching until my back popped. My stomach growled again, reminding me that I’d only had lunch today before passing out. The diner was probably closed by now.
I shuffled to the kitchen in the dark, feeling my way along the wall until I found the light switch. The fluorescents flickered on, harsh against my sleep-sensitive eyes. I blinked a few times, then spotted the plate of cookies still sitting on the counter where I’d left them.
“Dinner of champions,” I muttered, unwrapping the plate and grabbing one.
The first bite nearly made my knees buckle.
The cookie was still soft in the middle, with chunks of chocolate that melted on my tongue.
It tasted like... like comfort. Like someone giving a damn.
And it annoyed me, but not enough to stop eating it.
I ate three more standing there in the kitchen, then forced myself to rewrap the plate before I devoured the entire batch.