I laugh. “You heard Shirley,” I say. “I just have to be careful.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think.” I laugh, and he just looks at me.
“You have a great, great laugh,” he says, and just the way his voice is causes my stomach to flip just a touch.
“I haven’t had much to laugh about before,” I say, and then he smiles.
“Well then, I think this calls for some celebration,” he says. “Let’s hit the diner.”
“What?” I ask him, almost whispering.
“We are going to go to the diner and have dinner,” he says, grabbing my hand and turning to walk toward the truck. I try to wrap my head around all of it, and when he opens the truck door for me, I stop in front of him.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I say.
“It’s just a diner. Besides, I want to show you the town,” he says. I look at him, and I can feel him hiding something, but I just don’t know it yet. “If at any time you don’t feel comfortable, we can leave.”
I look up at him and see the smirk on his face. “You think you're slick.” I fold my arms over my chest, and I feel a pull, but it’s normal after not using it in three weeks.
He laughs at me. “Do you want me to buckle you in, or can you do it yourself?” I glare at him, getting into the truck and buckling my own seat belt. He closes the truck door, and when he gets in, I look over at him as he gets his glasses on. He is the most beautiful man I’ve ever met. But more importantly, he has the biggest heart.
He pulls into the parking lot, and he looks over at me. “You ready?” he asks, and I shake my head. “I’ll be right there.”
He gets out of the truck, and my hand is on the handle when he opens my door. He holds out his hand to help me, and I take it. I’m expecting him to drop my hand once my feet hit the pavement, but he doesn’t.
I look around and see groups of teenagers all over the place. “What’s going on?” I ask, and he looks at me.
“It’s Friday night,” he says. “All the kids meet here before they go and watch the Friday night game.”
“That really happens?” I ask, and he smiles at me. “I thought it was just in the movies.”
He shakes his head and is about to say something when someone calls his name. “Quinn.” I look over and see someone who looks very much like Quinn come jogging to him.
“Hey,” Quinn says, giving him a hug. “Are you behaving?”
“As much as you did at my age,” the boy says. “Hey there, darlin’,” he says to me. Quinn pushes his shoulder back, and he laughs.
“Back off, little brother,” he says to him, and I can see it. They have the same eyes, but his hair is black instead of blond. “Willow, this is Reed.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, and he just smiles at me when someone calls his name.
“I have to go.” He turns back to us. “I’ll see you Sunday,” he tells his brother. “And I hope to see you soon, darlin’.”
“Remember that time you thought I shot you in the ass.” Quinn glares at him while Reed just laughs. “Keep that darlin’ shit up, and I will.”
He holds up his hands, laughing. “Duly noted,” he says, walking backward.
“Did you just threaten to shoot your brother?” I look at him as we continue walking into the diner.
“If he called you darlin’ one more time, I would consider it.” He opens the door with his free hand and holds it open for me to step in. “My mother would whip my ass, but it would be worth it.”
I shake my head as I step into the diner, wearing a smile on my face. I see the whole diner is full. Teenagers fill some of the booths and tables as the sound of laughter fills the room. I look around and keep my head down. I expect people to look at me and point. I expect people to watch my every move. I expect them to look down on me. But none of that happens. No one notices me. No one points. No one wrinkles their nose at me. No one treats me like I have a disease or shies away from me when we walk in.
“Are you okay?” Quinn says from beside me, and for the first time in my whole life, I feel like this is somewhere I could live. This could be home for me. I can picture myself living here and being one of them.
“I’m fine,” I say to him, and fuck do I ever mean it.
Chapter 25
Quinn
I hold her hand walking into the diner because if she is feeling anything, her body will go tight, and I’ll feel it.
The last thing I want is for her not to be comfortable here. My goal is to show her why she should stay, and if she doesn’t like it … well, I wasn’t even going to go there because there was no way I was going to let her leave.
“Where do you want to sit?” she asks. Someone bumps into her, and she stumbles into my arms. I wrap an arm around her waist to protect her from falling. Her hands go to my chest as she looks up with big eyes. “You okay?”
“I’m so sorry,” one of the teenagers says as she turns to walk out.
“Do you want to go?” I ask, hoping she thinks about her answer so I can have her in my arms longer than I should.
“Hey, you two,” I hear behind me and look to see Chelsea and Mayson. “Oh, you got the sling off,” she says when she sees both of Willow's hands.
“I did,” Willow says and takes a step out of my arms. The arm wrapped around her waist falls to my side.
“That’s amazing,” Chelsea says. “Let’s grab that booth.” She points at a booth in the back that was just vacated by six teenagers.
Chelsea slips her hand in Mayson’s as they walk to the booth. “If you want to go.”
“I’m good,” she says, smiling, and turns to follow Chelsea. Her head dips just a bit as she tries not to make eye contact with anyone.
She slips into the booth in front of Chelsea, and I slip in beside her in front of Mayson. I see her eyes roaming all over the place as she takes it all in. “Are those jukeboxes?” she asks, pointing at a couple who are still here in some of the booths.
“Yes,” I tell her. “And they have songs from the eighties.”
Her eyes light up, and her mouth opens. “That is pretty cool,” she says, and then I hand her a menu. “I’m not hungry,” she says, ignoring my eyes. “I’ll have water.”
My heart speeds up, and I’m not the only one. “You will not,” Mayson says, looking at her, and then at Chelsea, who looks at him like he hangs the moon.
“I don’t really want anything,” Willow says, and I can see her finger tap the table, which means she’s worried about something.
“The burgers are where it’s at,” Chelsea says, looking at her. “But it’s a bit too much for me, so you want to split it?” I wait to see what she is going to say. Knowing full well it isn’t too much for Chelsea because she always finishes her burger.
The waitress comes over, and I order a double burger for myself with fries and rings with two root beer floats. Chelsea looks at me and orders the same thing. Mayson orders two of whatever I ordered, and he looks at the table. “I haven’t eaten all day.”