“Righty-O,” I called, maneuvering myself around him where he still stood in the doorway, holding the door for me to enter. “Have a good one.”
Righty-O? Are you here for a burger?
Jesus.
Sidling up to the far end of the counter, I waited behind a few other customers for the line to move and watched the woman ahead of me instead of turning my head to examine the man that was standing at my back.
He had his large, tattooed arms stretched out across his chest, and he was looking at me.
I could tell.
I felt it on the back of my neck like a physical caress against my skin.
But he didn’t say a word, and neither did I.
And by the time I’d gotten up to the counter, another register had opened, and he’d moved to that line and ordered at the same time as me.
“No pickles,” I said to the lady just as Evander said, “Extra pickles.”
I grinned at him, but he didn’t look at me, his eyes studying the menu.
“I’d also like some chili cheese fries,” I said to the lady.
“You realize that those are made for two, right?” the young teen asked.
I nodded. “Yes, but since you don’t put that on the smaller order, I have to order the big order.”
She grunted something, and I had to catch the urge to roll my eyes.
She was a teenager. From the look she’d just given me, you’d have thought I’d given her a grave insult that she could never recover from.
Once I had my little buzzer, a cup filled to the brim with ice water and a bowl of beans, I took a seat at the one and only empty spot in the entire room and started to shovel them down.
Which was why I didn’t see the man—Evander—looking around the room with open curiosity to where he’d sit until he was standing right next to me.
“You mind if I share the end of your table?”
I looked down the length of the eight-person table, and then shook my head. “No, go right ahead.”
He took a seat at the opposite end, and started to shovel his own beans into his mouth, leaving me to wonder if I should bother to make small talk or just ignore him and act like he wasn’t sitting at my table.
I chose option two, and started to eat my beans while also wondering if this place knew that their lighting was shit. The acoustics weren’t all that great, either, making it almost impossible to hear anything from someone that was already directly next to you.
The same old men that I always saw at the coffee shop in the mornings were now crowding up the middle of the restaurant. Their laughter was on the verge of being too loud, but with nothing to control their exuberance—IE, their wives—they talked and joked and were having a merry old time.
Until they weren’t, and that had a lot to do with their numbers being called and their burgers being ready.
I was so engrossed watching the men get up to put the fixings on their food when the man from the opposite side of the table gestured to me with empty hands.
“Can you pass the salt?”
I reached for the salt and the pepper, handing them both to him.
“I asked for the salt,” he repeated himself.
“Okay,” I mumbled. “You got the salt.”
He held up the pepper.
I shrugged. “My father says that if you don’t pass the salt and the pepper together, you lose your girlfriend.”
He blinked, then blinked again.
“W-what?” he stuttered, sounding utterly confused.
I nodded soberly. “I’m not sure if you actually lose your girlfriend,” I babbled. “But I’ve done because it makes my family laugh. Even my brother did it. My sister. Her husband. Their children. I think at this point, it’s just a habit.”
He muttered something under his breath.
“I see that.” He used the salt and pushed it back to me, then pushed the pepper down a moment later.
“You just lost your girlfriend,” I informed him, a smile on my face.
He grunted. “That might be why I don’t have a fuckin’ girlfriend.”
I don’t know why hearing that news made me so blessedly happy, but it did. However, I chose not to comment when it was clear that he didn’t want to speak.
Both of our orders were called at the same time, and he got up and brought both back to the table before I could so much as stand from my chair.
So, there I sat, enjoying my burger, while I tried not to stare.
It worked.
At least for a little while.
“Napkin?”
I handed him a napkin, then decided to be proactive.
“Anything else? Steak sauce?”
I never understood steak sauce at a burger joint, especially one with burgers that tasted as good as Maple’s did. Nonetheless, it was there so I thought I’d offer it.
He shook his head and reached for multiple napkins, laying them out on the table before taking his bun off.
Then, before my eyes, he blotted his burger with the napkins, and then proceeded to do it again and again until there was no more grease to be soaked up off the burger.
So that had been why he’d had all of his condiments, mustard and ketchup included, put off to the side.
He quickly reassembled his burger, putting back first the onions, then the cheese, followed by the mustard, pickles, and then the ketchup.
Once everything was piled high, he shoved the bun on and squished it down so that mustard and ketchup squirted out the sides.
“Are you new around here?”
His eyes, those beautiful steel blue ones that were quickly starting to be my favorite color, turned to me.
“No,” he grunted. “I went away for a while, but I’m back now.”
I wanted to ask him more questions, but he shoved his face full of French fries and turned his face away so that he was staring at his tray and nothing else.
He ate fast.
So fast, in fact, that I was only through half my burger and only some of my fries when he was collecting his trash and standing to go.
“See you around,” I called to him.
He glanced down at me, shook his head, and then walked away without another word.
Rude!
Chapter 2
I’m a simple woman. I like handsome, muscled, tattooed men with beards and donuts.
-Kennedy’s secret thoughts
Kennedy
I hoped that whatever news that we got today, that it wasn’t something detrimental.
But it has to be, my sister’s words from earlier still rang in my ears Why else would the doctor call me into his office if it wasn’t bad?
The other question was what if there was something seriously wrong with her? How the hell were they going to pay for it? She and I came from a family of farmers. Her husband was a fourth-generation farmer. There’d been a drought this year, and honestly, I was halfway convinced that they didn’t even have health insurance.
Not to mention they had four young kids.
And it wasn’t like I could help.
I was a farmer, too. I lived off my craft. I lived simply. I had insurance…what I did not have was insurance that was very good. I had the bronze plan—the lowest of the low.
But at least I had insurance…
Oh, God. This was going to be horrible.
“Are you ready, Freddy?” I asked my sister.
She turned her haunted eyes to me.
“Yeah,” she mumbled.
I offered her my hand, and we walked, holding on to each other into the hospital.
***
Shock resonated through me at hearing the doctor’s words.
“I have what?” my sister gasped.
The doctor looked at her with pity-filled eyes.
“Ovarian cancer,” he repeated. “Stage three.”
I looked around the room.
She’d gone to the doctor for a rou
tine physical for work. Now we were here today facing a nightmare.
“What now?” I finally settled on, noticing that my sister was too surprised to talk.
“Now, you fight.”
“I didn’t want to fight. I wanted to live my life. I wanted to go to work and spend time with my family and friends. I wanted to freakin’ live!”
Fighting meant a whole lot of pain, and since she was a nurse—though she hadn’t worked in well over six years—she knew more than most.
Hell, even I knew that the debilitating pain that lay ahead for her. I knew that she’d wake up most days and not feel like getting out of bed.
I’d already witnessed our sister, and mother going through their own battles with cancer.
I knew that this was going to be tough.
So tough.
“Why not just take her ovaries?”
“No!” came my sister’s vehement denial.
“That would be why,” the doctor said. “When her endometriosis acted up, and I suggested having a hysterectomy, she refused. I knew that wasn’t something she’d want to do unless there was no other possible way to avoid it.”
I looked over at my sister.
“Trix,” I said carefully. “I realize that you want more kids, but…”
“I said no!”
Right.
“We’re going to run with this, Trixie. You don’t have time to waste.”
She didn’t have time to waste.
Right.
“I’ll expect you to start chemo on Monday,” he said. “I’m referring you to a doctor the next floor up.” He gestured with his hand. “Today. You have an appointment right after this one,” he sighed. “This is bad, yes, but it’s not completely the end of the world.”
Not the end of the world.
Right.
“Head on over there now. They’re expecting you.”
***
“If I’m being honest here, I realize that the best option would be to take the ovaries…”
The oncologist tried again.
I’d tried in the elevator. Hell, I was sure that her husband would try, too.
“Can I still go on our cruise?” she questioned. “It’s next week.”
He nodded, but I could tell that he wanted to start treatment right this second. Today, if possible.
“Yes, you can go as long as you feel up to it.” He stood up. “With your permission, we’ll schedule the procedure to implant your medical access port for tomorrow or the next day. Do you have any questions about that?”
He didn’t need to explain what that was or where it was going—at least not to me.
My brother had had one. My mom. My sister.
My stomach hurt.
My head was pounding, and I wanted nothing more than to crawl into a corner and cry.
But I wouldn’t.
Not in front of Trixie.
“No,” she cleared her throat. “That’ll be fine.”
He nodded soberly. “All right. Millie, my nurse, will be outside waiting to take some of your information down. Once we have you scheduled, you’ll need to go into the hospital to register the day before. Now you can do that at any time, but I recommend you go either mid-afternoon or closer to closing time. They’ll take a sample of your blood, just in case, and then get you all set-up and ready-to-go insurance wise. Anything else?”
She shook her head. “No.”
He stood up and offered her his hand.
She took it, and shook it once before dropping it.
“We’ll get through this,” the doctor, Albertson his name badge said, promised. “I’ll see you in a few days. Millie will also schedule your next few appointments, okay?”
Trixie continued to nod.
“Trixie…”
She shook her head. “Let’s get this scheduled, and then you can take me home. I need to talk to Darren.”
I did as she asked, and the entire way down the elevator, out into the parking lot and to her house, she never said a word.
When I pulled up in front of her house, it was to see her youngest running toward us, a look of utter glee on his face to see that his mother was home.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Can you come pick DJ up in an hour and take him to baseball practice?”
I nodded mutely, not trusting myself to speak.
Then she was gone, picking Jaxon up into the air and spinning him around, a happy smile on her face.
I continued to watch for a little longer, smiling slightly when Darren came out of the house and looped a muscular arm around her shoulders.
The moment they started talking, I pulled out of their driveway, and made it about halfway down the street before I couldn’t help it anymore, and started to cry.
Maybe if I just sat here for an hour and cried, then I could go pick him up and not have to drive all the way home.
With my master plan written, I shoved the door open and nearly fell out, bringing my hands up to my head and trying to breathe through the pain.
It didn’t help, so I started to walk.
Chapter 3
I wish I could copy and paste you into my bed.
-Not a good pick-up line
Evander
“Hello?” I answered, looking at my watch to see if I’d have enough time to hit the grocery store before I had to go pick up Dalton.
Dalton was my sister’s stepson, and a complete and utter asshole to anyone who wasn’t his father.
But, like the total sucker that I was for my sister, even though she treated me like shit, I’d offered to pick him up and take him to baseball practice despite not really liking the kid all that much.
I’d missed a lot, being gone for the last four years, and one of those things was my sister’s remarriage to a man I wasn’t sure I liked.
Not with the way he allowed his kid to treat my sister like a total piece of trash who wasn’t good enough to make him food, let alone spend time in his house while his father was away at work.
Seriously, there was one person in this world who I’d do anything for—had done anything for—and that was my sister.
Sure, she never returned the favor, but I was her big brother. And no matter what she did and how she treated me, she’d always be my little sister.
If she wanted me to take her punk step-kid to the baseball park for practice, then I’d fuckin’ do it. But I sure the fuck wouldn’t enjoy it.
“I have an abandoned car for you to pick up,” came the annoyed voice of the woman who worked in dispatch. “I tried to call the towing side, but they’re all busy at a wreck on the interstate.”
I sighed. “I’ll pick it up, but I won’t be delivering it to the yard until tomorrow morning. I have a baseball practice at six I have to take a kid to and that’s in less than an hour.”
“Thanks,” Cindy’s said, and then she hung up.
Rolling my eyes at the way she spent as little time talking to me as possible, I started the truck and pulled out of the grocery parking lot.
Guess those would be waiting until tomorrow, just like the rest of the fencing I’d yet to pick up from the feed store.
But, I had a busy life, and busy meant I couldn’t get myself into trouble, thank God.
Hence the reason I didn’t complain to Cindy like I would’ve done four years ago.
I didn’t work for the towing side of the business, and she damn well knew it.
There were multiple people that she could’ve called, one of those being the motherfucker on call for the towing side, yet she’d called me.
That was likely more due to the fact that she was still irrationally angry with me for ‘dumping’ her.
I hadn’t dumped her, though.
I’d gone to prison.
Sure, I guess I could’ve stayed with her, but no woman needed to wait four years on a man who was in jail.
Although, now that I had time to think about it, I knew tha
t her loyalty hadn’t been that great. It’d taken her all of a month to move on, thanks to the fact that she’d had what was left of my last paycheck to live on before she made any drastic decisions.
Not that we’d have made it much longer had I not gone to prison.
Cindy was a good girl, but she was too clingy.
Even now she called with some bullshit excuses just to see what I was doing even though I hadn’t had to answer to her in well over four years.
Grumbling to myself, I turned down the street that was indicated to have an abandoned truck on it, and started to cruise down the road, hoping to find the truck and get it loaded up quickly before I had to be at the baseball practice.
After another two minutes of driving, I rounded a corner to find a familiar Ford sitting there, almost mocking me.
I hadn’t been able to get the woman out of my thoughts since I’d seen her at the feed store.
Then when we’d sat next to each other at Maple’s, that’d just been the icing on the cake.
Now, two days later, I was looking at her truck without her in it, and I started to get a really bad feeling about it.
I pulled over to the side of the road, directly in front of her truck so that we were nose to nose, and hopped out, my eyes scanning the immediate area.
What was her name? I hadn’t actually thought to get it, and now more than ever I was kicking myself for that.
“Hey, girl!” I yelled out. “Are you okay?”
Hey girl? What was I, ten?
I called out again and again, until I finally started to think I was going to have to tow her truck because she wasn’t actually there, but before I could head back to my own, branches snapped somewhere in the distance, drawing my eye.
I turned to face the woman as she came out of the woods.
She looked different.
Less put together, maybe.
When I’d seen her the day before, she’d been wearing these ridiculously tight leggings, a black t-shirt, and rain boots with chickens on them.
She’d looked fucking adorable with her hair up, and her face sun kissed. It was as if she’d just come in from a hard day of working outside. She even had a slight sheen of sweat on her face.
Today she was in something that was more formal. Black dress pants, a blue silk shirt, and low-slung heels.
Hail No (Hail Raisers Book 1) Page 3