Ronan
ronan
M aple Street Diner was surprisingly packed. People sat at every table and booth, but we were lucky to find an empty one tucked in the back corner of the restaurant. My back was to the wall so I could see everyone coming in and out, making sure I could protect Willow, but also all the other people in the place.
I scanned the room, my eyes lingering on the bathroom door. Willow had been in there for a while. We walked in, found our table, and she disappeared. I knew she was hiding in there, but I didn’t understand why.
Had I made her uncomfortable with my compliments? Or maybe it was the fact I told her we had to be a couple in public? But she didn’t seem uncomfortable. She could’ve been hiding it, though. I was beginning to learn how much of a talent she had for disguising her feelings with a bright smile.
But her eyes told the truth—she harbored a sadness I couldn’t fully comprehend, and that made me uneasy. Because I knew firsthand when someone was that sad, they’d do anything to stop the pain.
I tapped my fingers against the plastic-covered menu on the table. Maybe I could tell Willow my story, how I almost lost my sister—how I did lose her for almost a whole minute. But talking about it so close to the anniversary felt heavy. It was already looming over me like an unwanted weight. And, truthfully, I didn’t know if I could open up to her about something so vulnerable.
I chewed on my bottom lip as I stared at the bathroom door. Looking back, I knew the signs and what to look for. I could pay extra attention to Willow and make sure nothing happened. We didn’t need to have a conversation for me to be attentive and protective.
I’d make sure to discreetly check her wrists, just like I did with Trinity. I’d make sure to check in on her when she’s having a quiet day. I’d make sure to always answer my phone when she called?—
Memories clouded my vision, but I blinked them away. Everything I’d done wrong five years ago still haunted me. I’d let my baby sister down, and it left me with this hopeless need to save everyone. To protect them.
Willow was no different. I’d protect her—I’d save her, even if it meant saving her from herself.
The door opened, and she walked out. Her eyes were massive as she scanned the busy diner. It was loud, the lights were too bright, and servers were running back and forth. It was overwhelming, and the only thing grounding me, the only thing keeping me from hightailing it the fuck out of there, was her.
Her safety. Her comfort.
Her.
Willow.
I stood, towering over everyone, and her gaze snapped to me. Did her shoulders really fall? Did her face really soften in relief? Or was I making it all up?
She made her way across the room, her eyes never leaving mine, and when she got to the table, I pulled her chair out, gesturing for her to sit. For a moment, that same look from earlier flashed on her face. It was like a mix of shock and discomfort, and I didn’t know why .
I sank into my chair, scanning the room quickly before turning my attention to her. She read the menu, her eyes flitting over each word, each picture, like she was truly taking it all in. I let myself just stare at her for a moment.
She was gorgeous. Understated, but loud. She was soft—soft full cheeks, soft lips, soft eyes, soft curvy body. Pale skin with freckles dotting her arms and nose like constellations I wanted to trace. Her hair cascaded down her back in long, dark waves, like water tumbling over rocks in a river. Each wave, each curl, was highlighted red-gold in the sunlight, but the shadows were deep and dark, like they hid all her secrets.
Every inch of her was perfect. And the more I spent time with her, the more I actually talked to her, the more I realized she was perfect inside, too. All we’d done over the last five years was bicker, and with each passing second that we weren’t annoying each other, I was beginning to realize it had all been such a huge mistake on my part.
I should’ve tried harder to be her friend—to be more than her friend. I should’ve done something to make her life here better, not worse. But I was so caught up in my own life, my own bullshit, that I never thought twice about her. About anyone.
“I haven’t been here in forever,” Willow said, pulling me from my thoughts. I blinked and realized I’d been staring at her. “What’s good?”
I roughly cleared my throat as I opened the menu. I didn’t know why I was even looking. I knew exactly what I wanted. “I think everything is decent—” I cut myself off, and she glanced up. Leaning forward, I dropped my voice so no one could overhear. “Everything used to be decent. But then Lola’s mom died, and she took over. Now it’s…” I shrugged, but Willow nodded like she understood.
“I’ve heard others say the same thing,” she muttered. “How sad.” She looked around the diner as if it were her first time seeing it.
The black-and-white checkered linoleum floor was scuffed and stained, but clean. Each table was a different color, all faded and old. The red vinyl booths were cracked with age, and the chairs were in the same condition. Framed photos hung on the walls, mostly of historic town events like the high school football team going to regionals, or the day the lighthouse stopped working. There were some photos of Lola’s grandparents when they opened Maple Street back in the 40s, and others of her mother when she took over.
But I didn’t see one of Lola when she inherited the diner.
“What are you going to get?” she asked.
“A burger and fries.”
The bell chimed above the door, and I lifted my gaze. A man walked in with a hat low over his eyes, and his hands shoved in the pocket of his hoodie. He headed for the counter, and I tracked him the entire time. I’d never seen him before, which wasn’t totally unusual. We had tourists around this time of year, but there was something about him…some kind of vibe that rippled off him that screamed, “ Danger !”
“I think I’m going to get the fish and chips,” Willow said. I nodded but continued watching him.
He lifted the hem of his hoodie to reach for something. He could pull anything out—a gun, a phone, a wallet, a knife. A million different scenarios rushed through my mind, and I mindlessly reached for the hidden gun I had holstered on my hip. Obviously, I wouldn’t pull it out or use it unless I absolutely had to. But if he was fast, I had to be faster.
“?” From my peripheral, I saw Willow twist in her seat. “Oh my god.” I held my breath at her words.
“What?”
“I think that’s the guy from the bakery,” she muttered, turning back toward me. Her eyes were wide.
“Is he a problem?”
She shook her head. “He asked me out the other day,” she admitted quietly, and my eyes snapped back to him. He pulled his wallet out, and a long breath left me. At least it wasn’t a weapon. I rested my hands on the table as he handed the cashier a few bills before she handed him a to-go bag of food.“I said no. But he kinda lingered around the bakery after that. It was—is something wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, shortcake,” I said, pressing my lips into a smile.
I wasn’t upset that she’d been asked out. She was a pretty girl, I was sure that happened all the time. And it wasn’t even the fact he’d asked her out at all, but that he’d hung around after she’d rejected him. Even if he didn’t have any malicious intent, he still made her uncomfortable, and that didn’t sit right with me.
She scrunched her nose. “Why shortcake?”
“You’re short,” I teased, and she rolled her eyes. “And you work at the bakery. I didn’t give it a lot of thought.” A little giggle left her as she shook her head.
“It’s very original.”
“I thought so,” I agreed. I glanced at the man as he walked out of the diner. He didn’t get in a car, instead he strolled down the sidewalk. Everything about him felt off, but I couldn’t figure out why . But Willow didn’t seem alarmed by him, so I took a deep breath, forcing my worries away. “Would you rather me call you something else?”
I turned my attention back to her, and she shrugged. “I like it,” she said. Her cheeks went pink, and I grinned as I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the edge of the table.
“What’s that look for?” I asked softly. “What are you thinking about?” She shook her head, her hair swaying around her shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart. Tell me.” Her face flushed a deeper crimson, and I laughed. “You like when I call you sweetheart?”
“A little,” she muttered.
“What about…” I ran my lip through my teeth as she squirmed in her seat. “Baby?” Her eyes flashed, and I tapped my fingers against the table. Yeah, she liked that one. I did, too. “Baby girl?”
“I like those,” she whispered breathlessly.
“Good. Me too.”
She shook her hands out as she nervously laughed. “Who knew you’d be like this?”
“Like what?” I asked as she reached for her glass of lemonade.
“So…” She took a sip as she gestured toward me. “ Intense .”
“Do you like it?” I asked, suddenly unsure if I was being too much for her. “I can back off.”
“No,” she practically shouted, then cleared her throat as she settled herself. “No. You’re…fine.”
“You’ll tell me if I do something to make you uncomfortable,” I said gently but firmly. This was all fake, and I needed to remember I wasn’t actually dating her. Even when we were in public and it might feel real, it wasn’t. We were playing pretend—and even if I needed this to feel real, I had to keep that fact at the forefront of my mind.
“I will.” She swallowed thickly, her eyes dropping to the pale-yellow table. “You will, too? I mean, if I make you uncomfortable.”
“Of course,” I murmured. “But I doubt?—”
“Hey, Sheriff,” Lola said as she sidled up to the table. “How are you today?” Her eyes widened when she looked at Willow, then back at me.
“We’re doing great.” I smiled, but she still looked shocked.
Lola was cute—dark brown braids tied away from her face, dark eyes, deep umber skin. She was around Trinity’s age, and I’d always seen her as more of an annoying baby cousin than anything else. But she’d grown out of that phase of her life, thankfully, and she seemed to be working hard at the diner. Losing her mom made her grow up quickly.
“Willow will have the fish and chips, and I’ll have my usual.” I smiled as I handed her our menus. She blinked a few times before she shook the shock from her face.
“Right. Yeah. Right. I’ll be back.” She disappeared into the crowd of people as she headed toward the kitchen.
A light chuckle left me. “I hope you were sure about dating me,” I said, and Willow tilted her head to the side in silent question. “Lola is about to tell everyone about us.”
Willow glanced over her shoulder like she was expecting to see Lola holding court and spreading the rumor right that second. When she looked back at me, her eyes were massive. “Really?”
“She’s a gossip.” I shrugged. “You only tell her what you want everyone in town to know.”
That was part of the reason I chose the diner for our first fake date. I wanted everyone to know and to not be surprised when Willow’s family came to town. The sooner they were aware of us, the sooner we’d become old news.
“But she won’t know about this , will she?” She rested her hand on the notebook, her face paling. Reaching out, I put my hand over hers and smiled at the way her breath hitched.
“No. She won’t know about that. To her, and to everyone else, it’ll be real.”
Willow rolled her lips between her teeth. With a deep breath, she slipped her hand out from under mine. I left mine on the leather notebook for just a moment longer before pulling away.
“Alright.” I sighed. “Show me what’s in the book.”
Her eyes met mine, and something broken in them made my heart lurch into my throat. Maybe this was just a silly thing to me—a slight inconvenience—but to her, it was serious.
“Don’t judge me for anything you read,” she whispered. “I was…” She paused, her lips twisting to the side. “It’s been a difficult year, and I told a lot of lies. I’m not proud of it, but please don’t judge me.”
“I will never judge you, Willow.” I meant every word, but she didn’t look like she believed me. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she slid the notebook across the table. I stared at it for a moment. “You’re sure?”
“I think so,” she breathed. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Just—this is really hard for me.”
“I don’t have to read this. You can just tell me.” She shook her head as I spoke.
“It’s easier if you read it. I need you to know that I never meant to drag you into my mess. I saw you, and my dad was berating me about my life here, and I just blurted it out to stop him. I was just so tired of him having this image of me in his head?—”
“Did the lie help?” I asked, and she laughed bitterly.
“Not at all.”
I tapped my fingers against the table. “I’m sorry,” I murmured, but she waved dismissively. From the little bit I knew about her father, he sounded like an asshole, and I didn’t understand why Willow felt like she needed to prove herself to him. But I didn’t want to pry more than I already was by reading her journal.
The leather creaked as I opened the notebook. Her loopy handwriting was stark against the cream-colored pages. “You’re sure?” I repeated, trailing my fingertips over the paper, feeling the grooves left behind by her pen.
“I’m sure.”
My gaze traveled over the page, and I took a deep breath before I started reading.
I shouldn’t have lied, but it’s too late to take it back now. The shock in Dad’s voice hurt more than I thought it would. Was he really that surprised someone would want to date me? I still don’t know why I chose , of all people. He’s such an asshole sometimes, but he’s also…sweet.
Like this morning, he helped me carry a bag of fertilizer to the porch and changed the lightbulb above the door. He lingered there for a minute, and I thought he was going to say something, but he didn’t. He just ran back to his house like he always did.
It’s clear he can’t stand me, so there’s no way I can ever make this lie a reality. I could never ask him out or wait for him to ask me. He tolerates me, kind of, because I’m his neighbor and he’s too nice to tell me to fuck off. But I know he wants to. Especially when he stares at me the way he did this morning.
Sweat gathered in my shaky palms as I moved onto the next passage.
I ignored Dad’s calls again. I can’t bring myself to answer. There’s so much baggage and history between us, and a part of me doesn’t want to repair anything. I’ve spent so much time, so many years, trying and I’m just so tired.
And now that I’m done putting in extra effort, he feels the strain. But when I used to answer his every call, just to listen to him judge me and berate me and remind me of how amazing his life was, how amazing Vanessa was, he never saw an issue.
A part of me wants to talk to him, to get all my feelings out in the open, but what would that really solve? He’ll apologize like he’s done before, but nothing will change.
Maybe Gracie is right—maybe it’ll be best if I cut ties with him completely.
A lump formed in my throat as I finished the entry. I looked up, meeting her gaze across the table. She stared back, her bottom lip between her teeth and an expression on her face like she was expecting something bad to happen. All I could do was stare at her, though.
There were clearly a lot more complications between her and her father than I initially thought. There was a twisted history between them, and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever fully grasp it. It felt complicated and painful.
But the part that really stung, the part that stood out, was the fact she thought I only tolerated her. I remembered the day she wrote about. It was a day when I felt particularly alone, and when she laughed and smiled and tried talking to me, I was too miserable to try to acknowledge her.
I was too wrapped up in my own self-loathing to even pretend. Maybe if I would’ve tried to be present with her, we could’ve been more. We could’ve had something real all this time.
Maybe she wouldn’t have felt the need to lie to her family to make her life seem better than it was.
Maybe neither of us would’ve been alone.
My heart hurt for her, and from the way she dropped her gaze, I could tell I had pity written all over my face. And I knew better than most how infuriating pity could be.
I cleared my throat and schooled my features into neutrality. “So, your dad seems like a piece of work, huh?”
Her eyes snapped to mine. “What?”
“He’s the reason you told this lie,” I said, and she nodded. “And you said he left when you were a kid.” Another nod. “And he hasn’t tried to maintain a relationship with you?”
“I guess he tries,” she muttered. “He calls me all the time and tells me about?—”
“Does he include you? Does he know anything about you? Did he know anything about you before you moved here? Did he ever try? Truly?”
She paused. “No,” she whispered. “Even before he left, he never knew me. I morphed into a version of myself that was easier for him to love. I told myself I didn’t enjoy things I really did because they were silly to him. I forced myself to hate the color pink, or to make fun of Twilight with him because it was too girly . It was stupid in his eyes. And if something I liked was stupid, then did that mean I was stupid, too?”
“No,” I said sternly. “He shouldn’t have made you feel like that. He should’ve let you be a kid, should’ve let you explore the things you might’ve liked—he should’ve let you be a little girl and adjusted himself to your needs. To your likes. To your wants. Not the other way around.”
She looked out the window and reached up to wipe at her cheek. I couldn’t stop staring at her. Anger burned in my chest on her behalf. She’d been dealing with this her entire life? The way she acted, the way she made herself smaller, made sure that everyone around her was happier than she was…it all made sense.
Lola chose that moment to bring our food. She set it on the table, and it was like Willow transformed into a totally new person. Her smile was bright, and the tears were gone as she thanked Lola for everything. It was like the emotions she’d just been feeling disappeared entirely, just like they had at The Taphouse last night.
I wanted to read more entries or ask her more about her childhood or relationship with the rest of her family, but the words never came. Even if she pretended like she wasn’t, she was sad, and it fucking killed me.
For the rest of the meal, we ate in silence. And that was somehow worse than eating alone.