Chapter 30
thirty
. . .
Ronan
Doris came out to the back where I was tossing scrap wood into a bin. My hand ached from my first day back at work, but I was feeling good about being back at it.
"How's the hand?" she asked. She'd insisted on looking at it this morning and even tested me by tossing a stapler my direction without warning to see if I could catch it. I managed to snatch it out of the air and hold onto it, so she deemed me fit for work.
"The hand's tired, but I think that's mostly because I wasn't using it for the past three weeks."
Doris motioned for me to take off my work glove. "Hmm, finger looks swollen. Don't forget to put some ice on it tonight."
"Yep. I will." I put on the glove and leaned down to grab some more planks of wood.
"When your hand is feeling a hundred percent, I'm moving you up to framing. Tim is going to train you. I think you're ready to move up on the roster. Just don't break anything else, eh?"
I stopped what I was doing and stared at her to make sure she was serious. It seemed she was. "Thanks, boss. I won't let you down."
She tucked her hands into her coat pockets and turned to go back to the trailer.
"Hey, Doris," I called to her.
She glanced back at me.
"I really appreciate it," I said. Not many people had put their trust in me, but it had been different with Doris.
She nodded. "Just show me you've got the stuff."
"I intend to."
"Oh, and Ro, the clumsy delivery guy from the lumberyard drove off and left a giant piece of plastic wrap behind. It landed on the road. Could you grab it?"
"Sure thing." I tossed the wood scraps I was holding into the pile and walked out toward the road. A long piece of plastic, the kind they used to bind together planks of wood, had flown out to the road. It fluttered like a dying animal every time a car drove past or over it.
As I waited for the next car to pass, I spotted the same green car that had been in front of the diner this morning.
It was empty. This morning, I'd recognized the guy in the backseat as an asshole who Doris had fired on day two because he showed up drunk.
I'd watched them for a few minutes as I worked but didn't think all that much about them until Rachel arrived to open the diner.
I sensed instantly that they made her nervous, and I walked across to stand between her and the car.
They'd driven off and I hadn't thought anything else about it until now.
I could see one light on in the diner. I'd heard a few of the workers mention that the pretty server, Rachel, was basically running the place herself today. She was alone.
I crossed the street and spotted two heads right away.
They were inside the diner. I looked through the window just as I spotted the asshole who'd lost his job lunging at Rachel.
I slammed through the front door and torpedoed past the two other jerks.
Rachel was on the floor, pale and in pain.
I grabbed the back of the asshole's shirt.
He swung around with an arm that was dripping blood from a few small holes.
His fist flew blindly back, but he missed.
I threw him hard against the opposite counter.
He yelled out in pain as his back slammed the solid edge.
I didn't give him time to catch his breath.
My fist flew into his face spreading his nose across his face. He crumpled to the ground.
I spun around. His two partners stared at me as if I had fire shooting from my nostrils, and that was what it felt like. "Who the fuck is next?"
The big one with red hair tried to zip past me. I stuck out my foot and tripped him onto his big face. I snatched the money from his fat fist. He tried to scramble to his knees, but I knocked him flat. The other guy was already out the door before I looked up. The green Chevy raced off.
I spun back around and raced over to Rachel. She was sitting forward and rubbing her back. "Are you all right?"
She took a deep breath and sniffled. "Got him good with the fork." A weak smile followed.
I glanced over at the fork on the ground. "A fork? Good choice. Definitely been stabbed by one before." I shook my head. "Don't ask. Not one of my prouder moments." I took her hand and helped her to her feet, then over to one of the chairs.
I pulled out my phone and called the police. The two men were just coming to as the squad car pulled up. Doris saw the activity and walked across to check on the diner employees.
She got Rachel an ice pack and a cup of tea while I gave my statement to the police. Red immediately spilled the beans about their third partner.
An hour later, the men I'd walloped had gotten medical treatment and were being taken in for booking. Doris had sat with Rachel the whole time.
"Hey, boss, you're the bomb, you know that?" I told her as she headed out.
Doris smiled. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Wilde. Now take the rest of the day off, with pay. You earned it. Ray, you take care of yourself."
"Thank you so much, Doris."
"Hey, Wilde, make sure she gets home all right, yeah?"
"I will."
It was just Rachel and me in the diner. Considering what had taken place, the restaurant didn't show many signs of the disturbance.
"I'll help you finish cleaning up," I said.
"You've already done a lot," she said. Her brown gaze met mine, and every past feeling came back like a tsunami. I'd tried to convince myself that I was over her, but that was just a lie I'd been telling myself. "Thank you for coming to my rescue."
I smiled and picked up one of the chairs that had fallen in the scuffle. "You were doing pretty good on your own with your cutlery, but I'm glad I happened to see that green car."
We stooped down to pick up a pile of fallen napkins. "I was carrying these out when they walked in. They're going to have to be trashed. Carol won't be happy," she said. "She's always complaining about the cost of paper products."
Our hands brushed past each other, and we both paused as if the light touch had set off a chemical reaction. In a way it had. At least on my end.
"Considering you singlehandedly stopped her diner from being robbed and trashed by those assholes, I think Carol's going to let the napkin thing slide," I said. "Have you talked to her yet?"
"I left her a message to call me." We both stood up with our piles of napkins. Our gazes crashed again, and this time they held. Another chemical reaction on my side.
"Here, I'll go put these in the trash." She reached for the chunk of napkins I was holding and gasped. "Your knuckles. And that was your hurt hand. Let me get you some ice."
"It doesn't hurt," I said. It was a lie. In truth it felt like I'd struck a metal wall. My hand was still weak after being bound in tape and then used all day lifting wood and bricks. I was surprised I still managed to lay big red flat with one punch.
"Nonsense," she said. "I've got ice. C'mon back." She pointed out a stool. "Sit."
I sat on the stool, and she disappeared into a walk-in freezer.
She returned with a scoop of ice and dropped it into a clean dishtowel.
She walked over and placed the towel of ice gently over my hand.
"Hold this. I'll finish closing up." She looked at me before she walked away, and I heard her pull in a soft breath.
"How have you been?" I asked. "How's Jack? Your mom?"
Her lip tilted up on the side. "Jack keeps asking when his friend Ronan is coming back." She said it briskly and then walked to the supply room.
I iced my hand for as long as I could stand it, then got up and dropped the ice into the industrial sink at the back of the kitchen. Rachel had carried fresh napkins out to the front of the diner. I sat on a stool at the counter and watched as she deftly filled napkin dispensers.
"Our cook, Hank, went home sick this afternoon, so I think we'll have to close tomorrow." She glanced up. "I guess you don't come here for lunch too much, but some of your workmates are going to be lost … and hungry."
"The ones who are left anyhow. We've been wiped out by the flu, too. You probably noticed that your lunch hour has been slower than usual."
She nodded. "Yes, my tips have been cut in half." She sighed sadly.
"It's tough, ain't it? This whole life thing."
She finished the last napkin holder and looked up. "Sometimes it's downright impossible."
"That guy? The one with the fancy watch?" I asked, then shook my head. "None of my business. Don't know why I keep doing that with you. I guess I just feel like—shit, I don't know."
"Evan bought me a house."
I wanted to drop off the stool and fall through a hole in the ground. "Wow, nice of him." I had to force the words out.
"I didn't take it."
I lifted my eyes again. "Why not?"
"He wanted me to be his mistress. You see, his marriage—well—it's complicated. He works for her father," she added wryly at the end.
I helped her carry the napkin holders to the tables. She straightened and looked around. "I'm ready to get the hell out of here today."
"I'll walk you to your car, if you don't mind."
"After the last few hours, I don't mind at all." She untied her apron. "I just need to get my things."
We walked out in a shell of awkward silence. I couldn't remember ever feeling shy or unsure of myself, but that was what I was feeling as I walked Rachel to her car.
She opened the car door and paused to smile at me.
"I should have tried harder," I said. "I should have tried harder to hold onto you, Rachel."
Rachel smiled weakly and got into the car. I closed the door. She gazed up at me once before pulling away from the curb.
"Should have tried fucking harder."