Chapter 7 Nikki
Nikki
Sutton’s eyes have been on me for my entire shift. He was on his phone for a while, then accepted a delivery from the local drugstore, but has remained in his booth all afternoon.
It has me on edge. The two of us can’t be seen together.
If he gets found out, I can’t get photographed as a bystander.
While he’s well known, my face is one that would be familiar, too, and I don’t want my location to be revealed.
I’m safe here for the time being; I know that.
But both James and I have had our faces on the news for a time as the search for us continues.
Yet I would be lying if I said I wanted Sutton gone, because even though we barely know each other, I feel a connection. Maybe it’s because we’re both on the run, in hiding, and this town is our safety net. We have that in common.
It’s also been a long time since I took any interest in the opposite sex.
While there were a few guys who asked me out in college, aside from quick flings that never lasted, I spent most of my downtime trying to get to James.
Weekends when he was locked up in his room, Maribel at one function or another, my dad working or away.
Someone had to ensure he was safe, away from Maribel’s hands that tried to make his life unbearable.
Ironic, really, that in all that time I snuck back home, I never saw my dad. Not even once.
“More coffee?” I ask, approaching him.
“Why does coffee taste worse when it sits too long?”
“Oxidation. The acids break down, changing the pH balance, which makes it bitter.” My answer is too quick, out before I can shut my mouth.
Sutton looks at me with a gaze that’s a mix of surprise, admiration, and confusion. “There’s no way normal people just know that.”
I feel a little caught out. Clearly, I need to watch what I say a little more. I’m becoming too comfortable around him. This is why I always keep my distance from people. Swallowing roughly, I shrug, acting like it’s no big deal before I go to pour him another cup, but he stops me.
“I’ve got so much caffeine in my veins I'm vibrating.” His grin is wide, and I snort a laugh.
My hand comes to my face immediately, my cheeks heating.
I hate laughing. I’m one of those snorters.
I’ve been like this my entire life. At school, I was picked on, people called me “porky” every time I laughed.
But my mom loved it. She used to tell me that when I laughed, the whole world lit up.
The two of us were always in fits of laughter together.
We had a good time. I haven’t laughed much since she died.
“Was that a snort?” His expression brightens, like I just made his day.
“No.” I brush him off, pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about.
“Oh no, I think that was a laugh-snort.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “A laugh-snort?”
“Yeah, they’re the best kind of laughs.” His eyes dance in delight as he watches me. Taking a deep breath, the humor settles, my chest warming.
Getting the attention off me, I ask, “If there’s too much coffee in your veins, why are you here all day, then?” I hold up the hot pot of coffee, intrigued why he’s still here.
“I’ll leave when you leave.”
My breath catches. “What?”
“I’m making sure you finish and get home okay.”
I start to shake my head as my heartbeat quickens. I’m apprehensive, yet butterflies dance in my stomach, leaving my emotions all over the place.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I’m here!” James pushes through the door, beelining right for me. “How’s your face?” he asks as he basically slams into me and hugs me tightly.
“I’m fine. All good.” I give him a wide smile of reassurance. Looking at Sutton, I see he’s smiling at James, and I decide to introduce them formally, Sutton aware of who he is anyway.
“James, this is Sutton.”
“Hey, buddy.” Sutton offers his fist, and James taps it with his own in a boy code I don’t understand. The chime of the door sounds again, and I see a few others filing in after school, signaling the afternoon rush.
“Hang on,” I tell James, moving around him and greeting the new customers.
As people order, more walk in. It’s getting busy, and I run around, filling cups, taking orders, delivering food and back again.
Rochelle and I move in tandem, ensuring everyone has what they need, and it isn’t until it starts to slow that I take a breath.
The clock says I worked a half hour of overtime, and I know by the time we walk home, James is going to be starving.
I thank God for the last pieces of leftover lasagna from Rochelle that’s still in my fridge.
My eyes flick around the diner for him. He isn’t in his usual spot at the end of the counter and as I look around, I spot him sitting at the booth in the back.
James is sitting opposite Sutton, the two of them with their heads together, and my heart almost stops.
I pause what I’m doing and watch them. James looks so happy, and Sutton’s grin is wide.
He looks good with a smile. I bite the inside of my cheeks, knowing that Sutton Silvers looks good in anything.
“Now look who’s staring,” Rochelle teases as she approaches my side, taking in the two of them.
“I’m just making sure James is behaving. Not annoying the customers.”
She looks at me like she doesn’t believe a word of that.
“James is a good kid; he’s always welcome here anytime, and he doesn’t bother anyone. But I don’t think you’re just looking at James…”
I feel my cheeks heat and lift my hand to touch them before I wince, the black eye and bruised cheek I’d forgotten about still sore at the touch.
“Did you put ice on that?” she asks with a pinched brow.
I told Rochelle I fell. Unlike Sutton, she didn’t dispute my claim.
“Yes. Of course.”
Her lips thin. Damn her and her all-knowing maternal instinct. Maybe the fact that she’s married to the local sheriff helps her spot a liar, but I swear she knows the minute I tell a small fib.
“Fine. No, I didn’t have an ice pack; I just ran it under cool water for a bit.”
“You’ll take one home today from the freezer out back.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“What if James falls and needs it?”
I sigh. She knows exactly what button of mine to press.
“Rochelle…” I start to dispute, not wanting to be that girl, always taking and never giving.
“And you’ve almost worked an entire hour over today, so I’ll add that to your weekly.”
When I open my mouth to push back on that, too, she cuts me off.
“I’m not taking no for an answer, Nikki. You’re my best waitress. Here every day. Work every minute allocated. I’m grateful to have you.”
“Rochelle, that’s my job.” I’ve always had a strong work ethic, that’s why I did so well at school.
My study schedule was rigorous. A lot of good that’s done me so far.
I could’ve walked straight from college into a well-paying job on the East Coast, but my last name carries weight, and with a few calls from my father’s office, I was booted from every job I ever applied for.
Including working at a small café. It was hopeless.
Dad wanted me to take over his legacy and was doing anything he could to get me to work in the business, blind to the fact that it isn’t what I want.
He drills for oil, and I believe in climate change.
He has no issues with destroying people’s homes, communities, or the animal habitat to buy a parcel of land to excavate.
Whereas I want to have a sustainable life and leave no footprint.
He’ll do anything to get his hands on that liquid gold, and I prefer to leave nature alone and bask in her elements.
So while I could’ve been well on my way to an amazing career, my father put a stop to it.
He couldn’t have his daughter rising through the ranks as a successful environmental engineer with a passion for climate change, while he was digging up the ground, making a mess of everything.
It would’ve made headline news; it would’ve had his shareholders nervous.
“Well, think of it all as a bonus for good work, then.” And with that, Rochelle walks to the kitchen to get the ice pack and my paycheck.
I’m also the only waitress who asks for cash payment, something that she doesn’t mind offering.
With my bank accounts almost empty and me not wanting to identify myself to open another one, I use cash for everything.
As she pushes through the double doors, I wipe down the counter, putting away what little needs to be done. My feet ache. My face throbs. But none of it keeps my eyes from drifting to the booth at the back, to Sutton.
The way he held my cheek earlier, the way he looked into my eyes, ready to burn the world down for my bruises left me a little speechless.
I’ve never had that before. Someone who had my back.
Someone who was angry for me, someone who cares.
But I need to stay away from him. I can’t entertain getting close to anyone; it’s just not right.
James and I hope to stay here in Whispers, but if things change, then we need to be on the move.
So no friendships, no quiet conversations, no misplaced trust. And James, he shouldn’t get close either.
But then I see James smile again, pulling Sutton’s attention, the two of them bent over a book on Benjamin Franklin. Sutton listens, nodding, helping him with something he doesn’t understand.
And just like that, I know.
Whatever this is, whatever’s going on, it’s already too late. Because Sutton Silvers is starting to infiltrate my thoughts, and those thoughts are not just of friendship.