Page 81 of Wild Mistake
“You can’t do anything.” Her smile is sad. “I just have to get through the rest of my shift.”
“Order up!” The cook from the back shouts as several plates are plopped onto the warmer.
Sarah turns to go get them.
I stand, grabbing her arm. “No. Sit down.” I point at my seat. “I’ll deliver the food.”
“Aiden, you’re not doing that.”
“I am, and you’re going to take a break.” I level her with a stare that conveys I’m not fucking around. Thankfully she doesn’t argue.
She sits on the chair and winces, her body stiffening.Fuck.It breaks my heart to see her in such pain. If there were someone else to cover, I’d insist they take the rest of her shift so I could take her home.
I move behind the counter and load the plates onto a serving tray the way I’ve watched her do countless times. “What table am I taking these to?”
“The corner booth over there.” She points.
I deliver the food, then refill drinks. A few other customers ask for refills as I work. A couple comes in and I tell them to sit wherever they please. It’s almost ten minutes by the time I have a chance to check in with Sarah.
“Okay, what else do you need? Water? Advil?”
“I’m fine.”
She’s not, but I trust this is part of her experience of living with fibromyalgia. I hate that she has to work such a physically demanding job. She shouldn’t be on her feet for so many hours. I feel helpless, and that’s something I’m not used to.
“At least let me massage your shoulders.” I move behind her chair.
“I won’t argue that.” The smile in her voice makes me feel a little better.
Her muscles are tight. I dig my fingers into them, working the knots out.
“We’re ready to order,” someone calls over to us.
I press down on her shoulders to keep her from getting up. “Don’t you dare move.”
“Aiden.” Sarah twists to meet my stare.
“I’ve got this. Let me take care of it.”
I take the order for the table, then under Sarah’s direction, place it for the kitchen to fill. I continue waiting her tables for the next hour. Thankfully, the rush dies down. As people finish eating and leave, others don’t trickle in at the same rate.
“What else can I do?” I lean over the counter and hand Sarah a glass of water. “I can be rude and clear out the room so you can close early.”
“Don’t even think about it.” She tries to level me with a glare but ends up laughing. “I need my tips.”
I waggle my brows. “I’ve got a tip for you.”
“Oh, my God.” Her face flushes and she presses her palms to her cheeks. “You’re so bad.”
The door to the diner jingles as it’s yanked open. Gabe steps inside, an annoyed frown etched on his face as he practically stomps over.
“Hey, you’re back early.” Sarah pushes to her feet.
Gabe doesn’t acknowledge her, dropping a set of keys on the counter.
Sarah’s brows knit with concern. “Did everything go okay?”
“No,” he practically barks.
