Page 44 of Wild Mistake
“Oh.” I wipe my hands and walk toward the office door. I need the money. It’s not like I have plans. But my body is already killing me. Plus Gabe and Parker aren’t going to be happy. Neither will my parents.
“If you can’t, I understand.”
“No. I can. Do you mind if I take a break now?” I need to call my parents. I also want to check in with Gabe and Parker. Between my work schedule and them back in school, I feel as if I’ve barely spoken to them all week.
“Of course. I’ll cover.”
“Thanks.”
“Thank you! My Bunco group is going to be relieved I’m not bailing.”
I should use this time to eat something, but instead I tug on my jacket and grab my purse as I walk out back for some fresh air and a little solitude. I enjoy working at the diner. Not much about the job has changed since my youth. Even the menu is the same. But being on my feet all day is draining. Waiting tables is the exact opposite of what I should be doing, but there aren’t a whole lot of options.
Still. I’m tired of being constantly exhausted.
Walking to my car, I open the door and take a seat inside. I consider running the heat, but decide I can tough it out for a few minutes.
I should call my parents, but end up chickening out and sending a text instead. My mom replies immediately, agreeing to feed the boys dinner and watch over them until I get home. Guilt claws at any peace her reply offers. I feel bad leaning on her and Dad so much. I feel worse that I texted instead of calling because it’s so hard to ask them for anything else.
I really am a mess.
I send a quick text to Gabe, then another to Parker asking each of them to call me when they get home, which should be in the next fifteen minutes. Digging in my bag, I retrieve my bottle of prescription medication. My hands ache as I twist off the child-safe top and pour out one of the three remaining pills. I need to pick up my refill. Strange. I should have received a reminder call.
Anticipating today will likely be a high pain day, I also retrieve the bottle of Advil from the bottom of my purse and pop a few of those pills as well. With nothing else to do while I wait for the boys to call, I open the book Rosalie gifted me. I’m in desperate need of a distraction, and if it’s as good as she says, maybe this book is exactly what I need.
* * *
The evening shiftis slow and the minutes pass painfully. A better person wouldn’t hide behind the counter and read between helping customers, but when it comes to this book I have no self-control. It’s only six o’clock. I should check to see if there are any extra tasks or cleaning that could be done, but the book tucked behind the counter is practically begging for me to pick it back up now that the dining room is empty again. I’ll let myself read one more chapter . . .
Ten minutes later the jingle of bells tears my gaze away from the pages. My heart is racing from where I left off in the story, but when I see Aiden walk into the diner it’s as if time stands still. Will I ever look at him and not feel a mix of excitement and longing? Of both regret and joy?
“Hey, Sarah.” His lips curve with the hint of his smile.
“Hey.” I close my book and tuck it away. I want to come out and ask him where the hell he’s been, but my pride keeps me from sounding desperate. “I was beginning to wonder if you forgot where I worked.” So much for giving him the silent treatment or making him work for my attention.
He approaches the counter instead of his usual booth. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” Not an apology. Not an explanation.
“Yeah, well,” He takes off his coat. “I’m here now.”
I have no comeback. He is here now.But what exactly does that mean?
He pulls a stool out from the counter and sits directly across from me, his gaze never once drifting from mine. “I tried to stay away.” He flips the mug on his place setting. “But I missed you.”
My pulse beats like a drum in my own ears.He missed me?I can’t tell if he’s teasing or being serious. “Coffee?”
“Please.” He finally drops his stare. “How come you’re working tonight? Did you also work the day shift?”
“Yeah.” I lift the pot from the warmer and fill his mug. “Bethany’s family is sick.”
“Always helping everyone else.” Maybe he intends for it to be a compliment, but it rubs me the wrong way.
An irrational flash of anger boils over inside. “Sometimes I’m not nice, Aiden.”
“Okay?”
“Sometimes I’m tired and in a bad mood. Sometimes I do things for myself, because I want to.” Not often, though I don’t admit that part. “Sometimes I have to be selfish and put my family first. And sometimes I take an extra shift because I need the fucking money!”
