The Thief Who Saved My Life

Chapter 17

"Evie," Julia caught my attention before I walked into the kitchen the next morning. She was still in her pajamas and sipping on a cup of coffee.

I forced a smile. "Good morning."

"I was hoping I could take you out to breakfast?"

I didn't have an excuse and the hopefulness in her voice made it difficult to convince myself to just say no. Before I realized what I was doing, my head started bobbing up and down.

"Just let me change," I said.

"Meet you back down here in 10," she said, beaming. After a large sip from her mug, she set her coffee down and hurried toward to the stairs. I followed her lead, minus the skip in her step, and walk back up to my room. Ten minutes... I was impressed. She was, well, she wasn't as high maintenance as I expected. I found a pair of jeans and a simple top for what I hoped was a low-key breakfast and quickly changed. I avoided looking at the mirror as I pulled my shirt on, not wanting to see any of the bruises or the light, still healing cuts that Garret had put on my ribs.

"Come on," she grinned and held up my dad's keys. "I'll drive."

I followed Julia out to car and carefully climbed in, my bruised body still tender. She didn't notice, or if she did, I'm sure she chalked up my stiffness to the inherent awkwardness of the situation.

"I decided to keep last night's little adventure our secret," she said pulling away from the curb. I was officially trapped and we were apparently having this conversation. I was tempted to lean forward and turn up the volume on the radio... or open my door and hurdle myself out and onto the street. I didn't want to have this conversation. She may have been my father's fiance, but I didn't know her.

"It was an emergency."

Glancing over at me, Julia smiled. "It always is when you're a teenager."

There was a part of me that wanted to correct her, wanted to tell her that if I hadn't gone last night someone would have been hurt. But I kept my mouth shut, locking away the truth and smiled. Turning to look out the window, I let the rest of the drive go by in silence. When we pulled up to a small diner across town, my brow furrowed. This was not what I was expecting.

It wasn't a hole in the wall by any means; we were in the historic district of town and this old home looked to have been remodeled into a restaurant. Most of the homes weren't really homes any longer, but businesses that likes the charm of the buildings. The restaurant, which had a hand painted sign hanging off the patio cover that read simply, "Granny's Place," was in a smaller home, just one story. This place looked more like a home from outside than any other I'd ever seen. A bed of flowers spread out under the porch with metal butterflies stuck in the ground.

"Is this okay?" she asked misinterpreting my confusion for distaste.

I quickly smiled. "Yeah, this is great."

I don't think she believed me because she went on, trying to convince me as we walked to the entrance together. "I know it's not what you're used to. I promise the food is really good."

"It's good," I reassured her.

We were allowed to seat ourselves and Julia lead the way without hesitation to a small table near a bay window in what I think was once the living room of the home. The inside was small, the largest tables seated only four and were spread about a little awkwardly to fit as many as possible without taking away from the atmosphere. We sat and after several long minutes of stilted conversation and much need relief from the awkwardness that the waitress provided when she took our orders, Julia got to the point.