Chapter 2
EVIE
The normal diner sounds—the bell chiming, the quiet mutters, the silverware clanking—all seem to cease the second my brain registers that it’s him.
Here. In Kim’s Diner.
After all these years.
I’ve thought about this moment so many times. What I would do, how I would react, what I’d say—if anything at all. But then he lays eyes on me, and I completely freeze. I can’t move a muscle. My body forgets how to operate, and my brain shuts off.
But then he smiles.
It’s faint, and it’s pained, but it’s beautiful nonetheless.
And then the little clock that hangs on the wall strikes me back to reality with its ticking, and it’s like someone hits the unmute button.
I put down the pot of coffee I’m holding and pull my apron off over my head.
I walk around the counter and make a beeline for him, still standing just inside the doorway.
I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, and it’s not just butterflies in my stomach. It’s like a fucking kangaroo in there, bouncing off the goddamn walls. But I just follow my feet straight to him.
“Is it really you?” I ask him as I finally get within inches of him, and his smile widens.
Before he answers, he reaches out and pulls me in for the longest, tightest, warmest hug I’ve had in a decade.
It goes on longer than I should let it, but at one a.m., here in Kim’s Diner, I really don’t give a fuck. My best friend is back.
“Yeah, Eve,” he says, his voice leaving a trail of chills on my skin.
“It’s me.” Finally, we come apart, and I just stare up at him for a moment, taking him in.
He looks so much the same as he did all those years ago.
A little more stubble on his face now, but it makes him look more sophisticated.
His eyes are still that striking gray, and I still feel like they see right through me.
I notice that he has filled out a little bit; thirty-four-year-old Keaton looks like a man compared to twenty-one-year-old Keaton.
He was beautiful then, but he’s bigger, stronger now.
He looks more…seasoned. But in the best way.
“What…what are you doing here? Are you…”
“Here for you? Yes,” he says, and I swallow.
“I don’t typically make it a habit of hitting up diners at one o’clock in the morning unless it’s for good reason.
” He smiles, and I feel my stomach flip.
I clear my throat then pull him toward an open booth at the back of the room.
I slip in and motion for him to sit across from me, and thank goodness, he does.
“Well, uh…what are you doing here, Keat? Is everything okay? How did you know I would be here?” I ask.
“I didn’t,” he admits, leaning back against the booth, the t-shirt he has on tightening over his broad chest. “I was just hoping.” My eyes are wide as I wait for him to elaborate. But he doesn’t, and I feel myself growing more anxious.
“You were just hoping I’d still be working at the same diner you left me at over a decade ago, huh?” I say with a nervous laugh. But he doesn’t smile. His eyes drop to the table as he slides his fingers over the fork that sits on the placemat.
“I didn’t leave you,” he says, just above a whisper. Then his big gray eyes lift to mine, and I want to punch myself for even letting the words leave my mouth.
You left him, you idiot.
I clear my throat again.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him a second time.
“Just some family stuff,” he says awkwardly. “I’m in town for a bit, and uh…I don’t know. Just was hoping to see a friendly face.”
He’s not saying much, but in the same breath, he’s saying it all. Well, maybe not all. But I know there is more to it. It may have been years, but I still know him.
“What’s going on, Keat? Do you want to talk about it?” I say, and my hand slides over the table and lands on his without me even thinking about it.
Unfortunately for both of us, it’s my left hand.
The one where my wedding ring sits.
His eyes lock on the ring.
My eyes lock on his.
And I remember the same look in his eyes eleven years ago when I first told him Tanner was moving to New York. That we were going to move in together. That everything between us—whatever it was—was over as we knew it.
Suddenly, he slides his hand out from under mine and puts it on his lap. Then, he lifts those big, sad eyes to me.
“Nah,” he says. “I’m good. I should get going, but it was good to see your face, Evie Rae.
” With that, he slides out from the table, out of the diner, and seemingly, back out of my life.
And then I’m just sitting in this booth, the dark-red pleather sticking to my thighs, wondering what the absolute fuck just happened.
My shift finally ends a little while later, and I am completely numb the entire way back out to Long Island. When I work late nights at the diner, I drive into the city. I like having the time to myself to think. To be at peace.
Because then, I get home. And the peace is gone. The eggshells are back, and I tiptoe across them as gracefully as I can…but sometimes I walk too heavy.
As I pull into our driveway, my mind is consumed by another complicated man.
Why is he back? Why did he come find me?
A million thoughts swirl around my head.
Is something wrong? Is he here for good? Is someone sick? Is he sick?
But then I’m jolted back to reality the second I realize the living room light is on in my house.
Our house.
He never leaves the light on for me.
Which means he’s awake. After he’s been out drinking with his friends all night.
Not a good combination. I draw in a long breath and blow it out slowly.
I grab my purse and walk to the door. I go to unlock it, but it pushes open. I walk inside and set my keys down on the entry table and kick my shoes off under the entryway bench. I used to love this house. It’s a cute little Cape Cod, painted a metal blue with white trim and shutters.
It used to feel like a breath of fresh air. Like something I put my mark on. Like somewhere we were setting roots and growing our lives.
Now it feels more like the place where I hold my breath. Like when I walk through the door, I’m diving under water.
I round the corner into the living room and jump when I see Tanner sitting in one of the armchairs.
He’s facing the door, but he’s not looking at me.
He’s swirling a glass of whiskey around, staring at it.
Finally, he lifts his brown eyes to me, and there’s a darkness to them that I haven’t seen in a while.
I’m not sure what it is—maybe it’s the way his eyes fix on me, like he’s stalking prey, or the way his face shows no emotion—but the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Where were you?” he says. I give him a look and cock my head.
“I was at the diner,” I say. “You know where I was.” He widens his eyes and takes another sip. He finishes it off then looks at the empty glass for a minute. Then he looks back to me.
“Who were you with?” he asks. I swallow.
“A lot of people. My coworkers, the regular night shifters.” He nods.
“Anyone else?”
Fuck. Why is he asking this?
Something doesn’t feel right.
Something feels…dangerous. The way he’s looking at me. The way everything feels too quiet, like the calm before a storm. Something inside of me is screaming to do something. Anything.
I take in a breath and pull my purse off over my head. I walk it around the corner and slide my phone out of the pocket. I don’t know what pushes me to do it, but I open up a text to the only other person I know who is awake at this hour. And the only person who may read more into it—and act.
I open a text to Keaton and send him my location, praying it’s still his number.
Then I turn around to walk back into the living room, but I let out a little scream when I almost crash into Tanner.
He’s hovering over me, his shirt disheveled, and the alcohol oozing out of his pores. I take a small step back.
“I asked you a question,” he growls, gritting his teeth. I swallow.
“An old friend stopped by the diner,” I say. “Remember, uh…my friend Keaton?”
He takes a step toward me, and I back up.
“Yeah. I remember you talking about him. But what I don’t remember is you telling me you two were still chummy. And I don’t remember you telling me why the fuck he was in the diner you work at at one in the fucking morning.”
He takes another step, and I feel myself press up against the wall. I swallow as he closes in on me.
Keaton once told me that he’d do anything for me.
God, I hope that’s still true.