Chapter 15
Miles
We take a booth just inside the door, by the windows that overlook the outside seating area and small parking lot. It’s Sunday evening, but the diner isn’t very busy. They have more of a breakfast and lunch rush versus dinner, and they close soon anyway.
“Do you come here often?” I ask.
“Often enough,” he says. “They have good food, and they aren’t far from the station. We eat from just about everywhere when we don’t feel like cooking. Or when we’re hungry outside of meal times.”
“You have scheduled meal times?” I ask.
“Keeps things organized and helps to make sure we’re fed. We have a schedule with who cooks and when.”
“That’s nice. Very…”
“Domestic?” He huffs a laugh. “Yeah, that’s the point. We’re a family. Get along like one, too. Not only well, but fighting sometimes—well, more arguing, I guess. Not fistfights.”
“Good to know we don’t have city firefighters knocking each other out on shift.”
He laughs again, and I can’t help but smile. It’s a deep, rough laugh that has my chest warming. I’ve never heard anyone laugh like that before, and I really do love the sound of it.
“Evening, gentlemen,” the young waitress greets, as she reaches our table. “My name is Cherish. Can I start you off with something to drink?”
“Water and a strawberry milkshake with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle,” I say.
JJ narrows his eyes at me, then flicks his gaze to Cherish. “Same for me.”
What the…
“Are you getting any food tonight?” She smiles kindly, looking between us.
“Just the milkshakes,” JJ says.
“Great. That’ll be out in just a few moments.”
She walks off, and I watch JJ carefully. “So… strawberry milkshake with chocolate drizzle, huh?”
“I could say the same to you.”
“It’s just… so good, you know?”
“Oh, I do. But the question is—” He leans in, folding his hands together and resting them on the table. “Do you like strawberry milk?”
“God, no.” I shake my head. “Do you?”
He looks serious for a moment, until he smiles. “Not at all.”
“Wow, at least now I can tell my sister to screw off when she complains I’m weird about that.”
His smile falls. “You talk to your sister about me?”
The air shifts around us, to something a little heavier.
“Well, no, not really. I mean, she heard you come upstairs. I didn’t say anything… like, serious. Just that we’re friends.” He nods but says nothing, so I ask, “Is that okay?”
“Sure. Yeah. We’re friends.”
And now things are weird again…
“Yeah, friends,” I say, a heavy feeling settling in my chest.
You have to do it, Miles. You have to ask him. This needs to be talked about because this is weird.
“About that,” I start. JJ meets my gaze, waiting for me to continue when the waitress comes back to the table.
“Here you go,” Cherish says, putting the milkshakes down with spoons, and pulls two straws from her apron. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can get you, and I’ll be right back with those waters.”
“Thank you,” JJ and I say at the same time.
Then I panic again, and don’t go back to what I was going to ask.
“How often do you work?”
“A lot. My official position is two 24-hour shifts. Monday into Tuesday and Thursday into Friday.”
“That’s a long time.”
“We get to sleep… when the alarms aren’t going off, which feels like never sometimes.”
“Still, I can’t imagine not being home for that long. Not sleeping in my own bed?”
“You’ve never been on vacation? You don’t travel?”
I shake my head and stab the straw into my milkshake to take a sip.
“Not really. You travel a lot?” I ask.
“Yeah, sort of. I guess. My brother lives in California, and I visit him sometimes.”
I do remember him talking about his brothers a little the first night we met.
“Is that where you were the other day?”
“Yeah,” he says quickly. “So, how is it being a teacher?”
I don’t miss the quick change of subject—something he does often when we get to touchy subjects. Maybe he doesn’t want to get too personal and talk about his brother. I can understand that. Not everyone is as open about their life as I am.
“It’s… interesting. Some days are great, some are tough.
Kindergarten can be a lot, especially at the beginning of the year when the kids aren’t used to being away from their parents and have no idea how to socialize or follow rules.
Teaching looks different at such a young age because they’re also learning how to be in school. ”
“That must be difficult.”
“It can be, but kids are quick learners. I set rules right away, and it doesn’t usually take them long to understand that you behave a certain way in school.”
“And they respect that until they hit high school and become punks again?”
I laugh, picking up my spoon to scoop whipped cream.
“Sometimes it’s as soon as fifth grade.”
“That’s—” He stops speaking when his phone starts to vibrate with a call.
It’s on the table in front of him, screen up, and he glances at it.
I can’t see what’s on it, not that it’s any of my business anyway.
But he frowns, looking almost concerned.
Maybe scared? It’s hard to tell. “I have to take this,” he says, his tone cold.
He grabs the phone and hurries out the door.
I watch through the window as he answers the call.
I see his lips move, but I can’t make out anything he’s saying.
The only thing I can tell is that he isn’t happy.
He’s confused. He paces around, running a hand through his hair.
Anyone could tell this isn’t a good phone call, and I can’t stop staring at him, wanting to go out there and check on him but that’s none of my business either.
He’s saying something as he turns, our eyes locking.
I don’t pull away, just keep staring until it starts to feel weird.
I give him a small, reassuring smile. He doesn’t return it, just says something into the phone and pulls it from his ear to end the call.
I go back to my milkshake. It doesn’t settle in my stomach the same way, and I don’t know why him being upset is bothering me so much.
I also don’t know why it’s so hard to have this conversation with him.
It doesn’t even have to be a full conversation.
It can just be a question. One question. One answer.
“Hey,” I say when he takes his seat.
He smiles tightly, grabbing his milkshake but not taking a sip or reaching for the spoon.
“Are you okay?” I ask gently, trying not to sound pushy but wanting to know what’s going on all the same.
“Fine.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?” he asks.
We hold each other’s gaze for a long moment, the silence thick between us.
“Just feels like that wasn’t a good phone call. I’m not trying to pry, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“It’s fine. Just a friend.”
I choke out a laugh. “A friend made you feel like this?”
He narrows his eyes, frowning.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “It’s not my business, but you don’t have to keep pretending you’re okay when you’re not.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“But you’re clearly not.”
“Why are you pushing this?” he asks, sliding his milkshake away. “You don’t even know me.”
That hurts. Way more than it should. Because he’s right.
Maybe I’m not being as casual as I think I am? Is this my fault? Am I pushing him too much? Moving too quickly? Making this feel like more than simple?
“You’re right,” I say flatly. “I’m sorry.”
“You say that a lot,” he comments, a bitterness to his voice.
I don’t like the way this is going—not at all. Now he’s starting to come across as cruel, not just distant.
I clear my throat and reach for my wallet. “I’m going to go.”
JJ holds my gaze as I drop a twenty on the table and put my wallet back in my pocket. I turn to leave but stop and look back at him.
“Call me if you need to talk,” I say firmly, holding his gaze.
I want him to know that I will be there for him if he needs me to. That’s important. Not everyone has support or someone to talk to, and maybe that’s what he needs. I could be that for him. I really could. If only he’d let me.