TWISTED FATE (Twisted Path Book 1)

Chapter 9

Becca

With a heavy sigh, Shane watches his friends leave the diner. As if suddenly remembering I'm still here, he runs a hand through his thick brown hair and gives me a sheepish smile.

"Sorry about that, pretty girl. I, uh, better go check on my tables. You go on, get back to work. I'll come check in on you in a bit." And then he disappears around the corner toward the kitchen, probably to check on the status of the food for his tables.

The awkward visit from his friends lingers in the air well into the night, like a mist of fog that makes it impossible to think of much else. While their poisonous attitudes were right on par with how they normally act, there were parts of that exchange that hinted at something more. A subcontext hidden beneath Conner's taunts and Amanda's desperate need to stake her claim on Shane, while making it clear I don't belong near one of their own. Given I never wanted to be near him in the first place, I should be okay with that. Yet here I am, like a little kid who's been told they can't have something, suddenly wanting to prove her wrong.

What the hell is wrong with me?

For the rest of the night, I watch him work. Traversing the space and managing the job with the ease of a seasoned waiter, rather than someone who only learned the basics a few hours ago. Though his charming smile has returned, I hate that I notice it no longer quite reaches his eyes. Why it bothers me so much is something I'll have to work out later. As the last customers get up to head home, I shut down the computer. While I appreciate him helping me out by working my shift, I figure the least I can do is help with the side work and closing duties.

"I got it, pretty girl. No need to get up."

"It's alright. I'm at a good stopping point. You were right about the computer. I finished the first draft, which puts me ahead of schedule. Means I'm available to help close things out."

Thankfully, he lets it go. As I busy myself with completing our side work, he tends to the few remaining customers, closing out their checks and then waving them goodbye like you would a long-lost friend you've recently reconnected with. Not an hour later, we say our goodbyes to Aunt Rosie, then step outside into the cold December night.

"Here, I should have given this to you while we were inside, but I went to grab an envelope from the office, then got distracted." He hands me a thick envelope. "It's everything we made tonight. Now come, I'll drive you home."

When he realizes I'm not following, he stops and turns to face me. Still staring at the envelope, I blink a few times, hoping to clear the emotion blurring my vision.

"It's okay. I-I really am grateful, Shane. You know, for everything you did for me today, but uh," I point over my shoulder, "I'm only a few blocks down. I'd prefer to walk." Because right now I don't trust myself to be alone with him. It's been so long since I had anyone insist on taking care of me that my emotions are now raw and exposed, like a live wire with frayed ends.

Looking behind me at the street I'm pointing to, he nods a few times before he offers me his hand. "Then come. I'll walk you to your door."

"You don't have to," is what comes out of my mouth, yet I surprise us both by reaching up and placing my hand in his. Just like when he took my hand earlier, the feel of his warm skin against mine sends sparks of heat racing up my spine.

"I know I don't have to, but I want to." His smile grows impossibly bigger, and then, without another word, he leads us toward my small garage apartment.

"What about your car?"

"It'll be fine. Once I know you're safely tucked away at home, I'll come back for it."