Page 67 of Intrepid

The game had changed before my eyes. Twenty fucking minutes with the woman had me seeing her in a different light. As if I’d been living under a dark cloud of lies the whole time, and Sera’s truth beamed through in powerful rays of light that left me blinded to everything else. And I’d almost ended her life because of it. The thought sank heavy in my stomach, sickening me with the visuals.

I’d made her out to be some heartless and haughty rich bitch, and the truth was, she had more heart than I’d given her credit for.

“You sure you’re okay, Ty?” She came to a stop, turning toward me, and traced her finger along my forehead. “You seem so preoccupied tonight. I can take a raincheck, if you’re not feeling up to—”

I lurched toward her, silencing her words with my lips. I didn’t kiss her out of fake charm, or any of that bullshit. I kissed her because I wanted to. Because I’d grossly underestimated the woman, and I hated myself for it. It had to count for something, her taking care of Jo and sacrificing her dream. Even if what she’d done all those years back didn’t make any sense with the present, my head was too fucking crowded to figure it out.

I’d save the complex questions for a fifth of whiskey and an empty rooftop to settle my mind. Right then, all I wanted to do was forget everything and go along with whatever the hell fate had just thrown in my lap.

“Jesus, what a date, huh?” She let out a chuckle, and her gaze fell from mine. “Sorry to dump all this crap on you. I’ve got a little time to figure things out. I will. I always do.” A wily smile lit up her face as she peered up at me. “So, are you going to tell me what you had in mind for tonight?”

I couldn’t even bring myself to acknowledge it, let alone say that shit aloud to her. Instead, I handed her the helmet and climbed onto the bike. “When’s the last time you had a really good burger?” I asked over my shoulder.

She smiled and slipped the helmet onto her head, before climbing on behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Too long.”

22

Sera

The view through the window of the old fashioned, silver diner car wasn’t a place I’d have ventured to on my own. Harry’s Diner stood about a block up from the food bank on Beaufait Street, and its bright lights fused with the streetlights outside, making shady silhouettes of objects off in the distance. The surrounding factories, many of which looked to be abandoned, probably made it a great location in its heyday. Sometimes, Detroit reminded me of an old Norman Rockwell painting, a bit of old America lost in the destruction.

The interior of the diner probably hadn’t changed, at all, with the ragged soda shop stools lined along the faded wooden bar, and the ripped upholstery of the booths, where I sat across from Ty. The scent of fried food clung to the air, as though the deep fryers had never been cleaned in however many years the place stood.

Yet, something about it remained endearing, a pinnacle of light in the surrounding dark buildings that reminded me of an old noir film.

“My dad used to bring me here when I was a kid. Nights he didn’t feel like cooking, we’d pop in here. Sit for hours just shooting the shit.”

The way he sat, all kicked back in the booth and looking like the quintessential bad boy in his black T-shirt, sent a flutter to my stomach. He’d seemed edgy all night, though. From the moment he’d arrived at Jo’s apartment, his usual cocky charm had switched to restlessness.

“Well, I’m impressed. You took me somewhere I’ve never been before. I keep trying to picture you as a little boy. Little Ty.” Chuckling, I looked around again and sighed. “Your dad must’ve been laid back and easygoing. Must’ve been nice to have him to talk to.”

“He was. No bullshit with him. He just told you how it was. I miss that.”

“Your dad, he’s no longer—”

“Nah.” The curt way he dismissed it, with a wave of his hand, told me not to pry.

“So, I have a confession.” Sliding my hands beneath my legs kept me from fidgeting beneath the way he stared at me from across the table. “And … I’m a little embarrassed, but … you’re not at all what I thought. I totally misjudged you.”

“Yeah. You’re not what I thought, either.” His gaze trailed over the inside of the diner and back to me. Always looking around, like he expected to get jumped any second. “Hey, this place okay for you? I know it’s kind of old, but … I wanted to take you someplace special, so …”

“Mm-hmm. It’s perfect.” Scanning over the outdated interior, I smiled at the thought of him choosing a place so meaningful. “You took a shitty day and made it infinitely better than when it started out.” I leaned forward and sipped the Boston Cooler, served in an old-fashioned soda glass, complete with whipped cream and a cherry on top. “I haven’t had one of these since I was a little girl. My mom used to make them for me all the time.”

“How long’d you stay with your mom?”

“Until I turned nine. That’s when … the cancer … it’s a long story, but I was sent to live with my dad then.” I circled the straw in my cup, slipping into memories of nights we’d lain out on the lawn and talked for hours, while staring up at the stars. “My mom was easy to talk to, too. I could tell her just about anything. Even now, the things I’ve said and done. She’d never judge me for them.”

“What kinds of things?”

Gaze glued to my soda, I pursed my lips to keep from smiling. “Well, she’d have probably been proud of me for getting on a motorcycle with a stranger. For climbing down a chimney and nearly falling to my death. She’d have loved this place, too. Just because it’s different. Like you.”

The smirk on his face dimpled his cheek and lured my attention to the deviant glint of his eyes. “Think your mom would’ve liked me?”

“Not to sound Jerry Springer, but I think my mom would’ve probably told me, if I didn’t go out with you tonight, she’d do it for me.”

With a snort, he shifted on the seat and rested his elbows on the table. “If she’s anything like you, I think I would’ve liked her, too.”

The smile on my face fizzled with the memory of hers, the way her eyes would go wide with excitement, right before she’d do something crazy, like belt out a song in a crowd, or pull me away from whatever I was doing to dance with her. “She’s nothing like me. She was wild and full of life, and she did her own thing. She didn’t let anyone keep her from what she loved.”