The Firefighter Who Rescues Me

Chapter 4 ♚ Not Alone

My head throbbed like a toothache while I sat in a booth at the only diner in town.

A few days ago, this was the place my realtor and I agreed to meet in the afternoon after what would've been my first day at work. I briefly thought of booking a room in a hotel to get some rest, but recalling the amount of money I had in my bank account held me back—especially considering I had to tide myself over for four days. If I had my car I could sleep in it, alas.

I borrowed a pen from the waiter and set out to do some math on napkins. My savings would be enough to pay the security deposit of a modest rental and at least a couple of week's worth of groceries. I set that napkin aside and on a new one I wrote down all the upcoming expenses. My car insurance would pay me a pittance for the totaled car, but it might be enough to buy me some clothes. I wrote down all the essentials I would need and at the end of my calculations, I was in the reds.

Wasn't that a color I was intricately familiar with...

The waiter returned to top my coffee mug off. I offered the pen back and he told me to just keep it. It was just a simple Bic, so it wasn't like he was offering me an expensive gift, yet I couldn't help the frown that soured my face. Even after years of living in this country, I sometimes got cultural shocks like this that rattled my bones. For this guy, this wasn't a big deal. For me, receiving a gift made me wonder if it came with strings attached to it. If it painted a target on my back.

I observed the guy as he walked back behind the counter. He was middle aged, smiled as easily to the next customer who strolled into the diner asking for coffee and pie, chatted with the cook with the familiarity of people who saw each other often and, more importantly, didn't look back at me a single time.

My shoulders relaxed. No strings attached, then.

I put the pen in the front pocket of my backpack, now so thankful for it that I almost liked the guy. In my opinion, the best men were the ones who were the least interested in me and clearly this waiter did not give two shits about me.

Knowing that, made the coffee taste way better. I might even be able to drink it continually for eight hours until my meeting with the realtor.

The door chimed with another customer. This one was decked in full police regalia, with a distinctive Sheriff badge on his chest. He was on his phone, eyes darting around like he was in a pedestrian police chase, looking for a suspect. I startled when, upon zeroing in on me, he took massive strides until he was in front of me.

"Are you Coralina Diaz?"

That sent my heart rate from normal to a la verga in a second.

"Uh, yes?"

"Oh, thank God." He sat in my booth across from me like I'd invited him and extended his phone towards me. "It's your sister."

I stared at the lit up screen with a Florida number like it was an alien. Normally, I wasn't this slow but a mild concussion maybe had the side effect of delaying my thought processes. It took me a few more seconds to understand how this was even possible until I remembered that just yesterday, in what felt like a lifetime ago, I had promised Cata that I would call her when I arrived to Silver Grove. Which I clearly hadn't done. And she was the kind of person who would move heaven and earth to find me if necessary. Which must be how she'd located the town's Sheriff and sent him on a quest to find me.

As I took the phone from him, I felt like I was just about to face a second near-death incident. Clearing my throat, I said, "Hey."

"Don't you hey me." Her voice was so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. The Sheriff winced, as though the victim had been his own eardrum. "Qué coño pasó?"