A few minutes later she handed me a plate of pancakes and a glass container of syrup. As I poured the dark liquid over the stack, I thought about her tired eyes this morning. Maybe the reason she looked a little run down wasn’t from lack of sleep or an early morning. Maybe she was still feeling sick from the reaction she had before.
I felt a little stab of something in the center of my chest, but I ignored it. I didn’t have time for feelings. I had to complete this job. My life depended on it.
I took a bite of the pancakes, not really tasting them, as my mind worked to formulate a plan. I needed to get out of town. I needed away from Grim, from Charming… I needed a vacation.
Bingo.
I glanced up to see Piper hanging an order slip for the line cook. I watched as he knocked into her with his side and she fell sideways, nearly losing her balance.
She put her hands on her hips and made a face as the guy yelled, “Watch where you’re going!”
My fork clattered against the glass of my plate as I shoved off the stool and went around to the employee side of the counter.
“Employees only, sir,” the other waitress on staff told me as I shouldered my way past her.
Piper looked up from behind the register. She looked worse than earlier. Something inside me snapped and I shoved the line cook, causing him to pitch forward. He caught himself before landing face first onto the piping hot griddle.
“Hey!” he shouted and turned. “What the hell’s your problem?”
“I don’t like the way you treat the waitresses.”
“It’s none of your damn business!” he said, waiving an oversized spatula around.
“Apologize,” I demanded.
“Dex, just let it go,” Piper said from behind the angry cook.
“Yeah, Dex, let it go,” the cook mocked.
My fist shot out and nailed him right across the jaw. He flew backwards, knocking over a container full of utensils and they all clattered to the floor. He gave a grunt and came at me, and instead of sidestepping like I should have, I stayed still and took his fist right to the left side of my face.
A guy had to do what a guy had to do.
I felt my cheek split open and my skin began to sting. Shouting erupted around me. Piper ran forward, trying to make it to my side, but the cook held out his arm, clothes-lining her behind him. She slipped on something and fell backward onto her butt.
My hand shot out and grabbed the cook’s wrist and forced his hand down onto the griddle. He yelled in pain when his skin sizzled. I didn’t hold on to him long—I wasn’t trying to melt all his skin away, just some of it—and I let go to help Piper when I felt something heavy hit me over the head. I fell to the floor, and just before passing out, I noted that Piper was unharmed.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Stupid - men.” (Definition provided by Piper and many other women across the globe.)
Piper
Stupid. I was pretty sure if I were to look up the definition for the word it would say “men.” Why did everything always boil down to some sort of fist fight when they couldn’t agree on anything? Granted, I did secretly enjoy watching Emilio get punched in the face by Dex, but the rest of the drama, I could have done without.
You’d think the place would be loud and alive with people shouting and taking sides, but it was eerily quiet in here. A quick glance around showed me that the morning regulars were enjoying the show. They were all sipping their coffee and giving the unfolding scene their undivided attention.
Figures. Most of the customers were also men.
The smell of burnt flesh violated the air as Emilio’s hand was ruthlessly burned. Then the silence was shattered with his screeching in pain. And then Dex was falling to the floor, passing out from the hard hit Emilio delivered with a frying pan.
Despite his stupidity, I rushed to his side, calling his name, but he was out cold.
It was then that everyone decided to cause a commotion.
Mary, the other morning waitress, was standing there with wide eyes and when I glanced her way, she seemed to shake herself out of it. She looked at Emilio who was still wailing and said, “I’ll call for an ambulance.”
Emilio stopped long enough in between wails to yell, “I’m not getting in one of those things.”
“Well, then you can walk ‘cause no one here wants to drive you,” she snapped.
I would’ve laughed had I not been feeling for Dex’s pulse, which thankfully was strong. I shook his shoulder, but he still didn’t stir. I was considering dowsing him in water when Emilio rounded on me, cradling his injured hand at his chest.
“This is all your fault!” he growled.
“Mine?” I said incredulously.
“You and you’re better than everyone attitude, coming in here with your boyfriend and causing trouble.”
My boyfriend. My stomach flipped a little at his words. Dex wasn’t my boyfriend, but it was a little shocking to realize maybe I wouldn’t mind if he was.
But now wasn’t the time for those kind of thoughts.
“He’s not my boyfriend. And the only person with the attitude around here is you.” I snapped, glancing down at Dex. He was still out.
Apparently Emilio’s burned hand was momentarily forgotten because he launched himself at me. His eyes were wild and he reached out with his good hand and grabbed me around the arm, just beneath my elbow, and yanked. I planted my foot into the ground and tried to jerk my arm free, but he didn’t let go. So I kicked him. The heel of my boot caught him in the knee and finally he let go, howling.
Mary pushed him backwards and he fell onto his butt. There was a bucket nearby, half filled with ice, and she reached in and grabbed a handful and threw it on the downed cook. “Sit there and cool off until help arrives.”
My chest was heaving when he glared at me. I wanted to kick him again, but I didn’t. The customers in the diner had seen enough. I could only imagine what the owner was going to say. I prayed I didn’t get fired.
I leaned down beside Dex again and shook his shoulder, brushing the hair back from his forehead. He began to stir and then he was blinking open his eyes and looking up at me. His glasses were slightly askew and I reached out to adjust them.
“We keep meeting like this,” he said, his eyes still kind of unfocused.
Memories assaulted me of sitting in the street with snow falling all around. The chaos from that night suddenly mirrored the chaos of tonight. It was just him and I sitting in a bubble, the two of us a part of the room, yet somehow separate. Activity hummed around us, but the air that encircled us was still. Just him looking up at me.
Except this was Dex.
This wasn’t the man who died.
Right?
Sitting here now, in the middle of the diner, I felt a connection… some sort of familiarity between us.
I reminded myself that this wasn’t the night of the accident. Dex was hurt and needed medical attention.
“Dex, how do you feel?”
“I’m fine. How’s the other guy?” he replied groggily.
“Burned and pissed off,” I said, watching his eyes, checking for any sign of a concussion.
He grunted in response and I wondered if that meant he didn’t feel well enough to speak or only that he didn’t really care about Emilio. Most likely the latter.
The chaos of the room was breaking into the bubble I imagined surrounding us, and I was grateful Mary was trying to calm everyone down.
“Come on, you need a doctor,” I told Dex, reaching down and grabbing his arm to help him up.
I shouldn’t have touched him.
Maybe it was the way I was feeling. Maybe it was the memories flooding back to me or what Dex said only moments before, but the vision came over me and it was exactly as it always was.
The man from the accident, the one with the serious eyes and knit hat, flooded my head. All I could see was him. He wasn’t wearing a hat and he had almost black hair. Hair that was either slightly curly o
r just really messy fell onto his forehead. He was smiling, a beautiful smile, and I imagined it was me he looked at.
And then it was gone as fast as it came.
For some reason I felt bereft. Robbed of a certain warmth.
Why? Why of all days did I have to have this vision today?
“Piper? Are you okay?” I heard Dex ask and then I felt his hand on my arm.
I pulled my arm away from his touch, not wanting a replay. “Yeah,” I replied. “Give me your car keys.”
He needed a doctor and suddenly this room seemed way, way too small.
“You want to drive my Roadster?” he asked me like I suggested he run down the street naked.
“Well, you aren’t driving it.” I retorted. I was still unsure if he had a concussion or not.
He fished the keys out of his pocket and handed them to me. I took them, hoping he didn’t notice how hard I tried not to touch him. I wanted to run from the place, but I couldn’t. I had responsibilities.
I turned toward Mary who was refilling the customers’ coffee and working to calm everyone down.
“He needs a doctor, stitches, I think,” I told her when she came close enough so I didn’t have to yell.
Behind us Emilio was still crying about his hand and how no one was even worried about him.
“Just go,” Mary said. “The EMTs are on their way to help him. I’ll call for another waitress and a cook in a sec. I can handle things. It’s still early, and the crowd is small. Better to get him outta here anyway.”
“I owe you one, Mary,” I replied.
“No. It was payment enough watching this guy get what was coming to him. I’ll do my best to cover for you, but I can’t promise anything.”
“Thank you,” I told her again and headed toward the door, hoping Dex would follow. He did and soon we were outside on the sidewalk in the wintry air. As we headed to the Roadster, I did my best not to look at the spot where the accident happened. Instead, I looked toward Dex.
Blood ran down the left side of his face. It caught in his eyebrow, the thick hair diverting it around his eye where it then continued its dark trail.
See? I told myself. He’s completely different from the guy in your vision.
I knew this was true. It was obvious they were two different people.
So why did something inside me keep whispering they were the same?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Suture - thread of catgut or silk or wire used by surgeons to stitch tissues together.”
Dex
I didn’t really start to notice everything around me until I was sitting in the passenger side of the Roadster. The cold air outside acted like a wakeup call and really brought some clarity back into my head. I must have been completely out of it to agree to let her drive my car. I was about to tell her that I was the one who would be driving when she started yelling at me.
“What were you thinking?” Piper demanded as she put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb.
I calculated the odds I had of getting her to pull over and let me drive. I didn’t think they were very good and besides, I was comfortable.
“I didn’t like that guy’s attitude,” I said in response to her question. And my answer was actually true. Sure, I needed a reason to get her out of the diner, and sure, this would buy me some points for what I had planned, but when I saw him shove her, anger slammed through me.
“Well, I’m probably going to get fired,” she said, flat. “And you’re bleeding all over yourself and this car.”
I was such a hypocrite. Beating on a guy with a bad attitude directed at Piper when all the while I plotted her death. I didn’t have a right to be angry at anyone for what they did to her… yet I felt strangely territorial when it came to her. No one was allowed to hurt Piper. No one but me.
I was a world-class ass. I deserved an eternity of floating through an empty void.
For a moment I imagined what it might be like there. Maybe I should just cut my losses and let myself get recalled.
“Dex!” Piper demanded, worry in her tone.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.
“Hey! Stay with me. We’re almost there.” She flicked some switches in the dash and directed the heat vents toward me except they weren’t blowing heat yet and the air was icy cold.
“That’s freezing!” I complained.
“It will keep you awake.” She retorted. “And don’t be sorry. That guy had it coming. In the couple weeks he’s been at the diner he’s done nothing but torture us all.”
I didn’t say anything else as she pulled into the parking lot of the clinic where she interned. She got out and came around to open my door and I looked up at her. “What are we doing here?”
“You need stitches. He hit you with a frying pan.”
A frying pan. My plan worked a little too well. I knew there was a joke in this somewhere but I just couldn’t find one. This didn’t feel funny.
“Come on,” she said and I followed her into the side door of the clinic. She called out a greeting to one of the nurses who exclaimed over my bloody face and we were ushered into an empty exam room.
“We’re pretty backed up,” the nurse said, apparently this is a morning of accidents for everyone. “Unless you want to stitch him up?”
Piper shook her head. “My hand is too unsteady this morning. How about I get him cleaned up a bit then I will go out there and help out while you stitch him up?”
“Are you all right? You look pale.” The nurse said, reaching out to feel Piper’s forehead.
She smiled. “I’m fine, Jackie.”
“Well when I come back I want to hear about what happened,” she said, giving me a pointed look.
“It was the other guys fault,” I told her.
“It always is,” she said around a sigh then disappeared out of the room.
Piper began going through cabinets, pulling out supplies and creating a small pile on the rolling table beside her. Then she washed her hands, pulled on some plastic gloves and rolled her tray over beside me.
“Hold still. This might hurt,”
I watched as she ripped open a little pack of wipes and stepped closer to me. She smelled like coffee and pancakes. She gripped my chin in her gloved hand and titled my face upwards and brought the pad down near my hairline. I winced when she wiped it.
“That’s cold!” I growled.
“Serves you right,” she snapped and wiped me again. The cut began to sting and I let out a growl. She pulled back and dropped the pad, now covered in red onto the table. She reached for another then looked at me. “We need to check you for a concussion.”
“I don’t have one,” I denied.
She half smiled and said, “Okay tough guy.”
She positioned herself between my legs and lifted the wipe once more. She was so close I could hear her breathing. It was a soft sound and her chest rose and fell steadily. Her free hand brushed through my hair, pushing it away from the cut, but instead of short quick strokes, her hand moved slowly and went through my hair all the way to the back of my head.
I heard her clear her throat, but I didn’t look up. My stomach was bouncing around and my heart was pounding. I told myself I might have a concussion after all… but deep down I knew that wasn’t it. It was her closeness affecting me.
I liked it.
Once more the voice programmed inside me—inside this body—whispered, Kill her now. I could. I could reach over to the table and grab something sharp. I could use it to take away her life.
But then she would stop breathing.
And I liked that sound.
I told that voice to shut up and I listened once more to the breaths that filled her lungs.
“Almost done,” she said low, reaching for another wipe. “Does it hurt very much?”
“Yes,” I whispered and my eyes widened.
She lowered her hand and looked at me. She was so close I could see all the different colors that made up the depth in her
eyes. I don’t know why I said yes. My head didn’t hurt. In fact, I didn’t even think of it at all.
“I meant to say no,” I said, still looking in her eyes. The room around us seemed hushed; there were no other sounds but the ticking of the wall clock and Piper’s slow, even breathing.
“You hit that guy for me,” she whispered.
I felt myself nod. I might have needed an excuse to get her out of the diner, but I’d hit that guy because he hurt her.
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