OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

forty.

         THE SUN HAD barely risen over the tufts of early dawn's clouds, casting a faint glow through the windows of Wilson's. Reagan could feel the budding light across her face as she swept around her work area like a tornado on legs, meticulously training her eyes to the ground as she tidied up.

She'd always thought that those early mornings shifts weren't so bad when they came with such pretty sunrises. Usually, the sky was overcast. But on that particular morning, the sun's rays had managed to peek past Olympia's soggy gray skies.

If anything, the morning sunrise should have served as a sign. It could have been her beacon of hope, or a subtle push that she needed to take charge and stop being such a baby. She had one ultimate goal that day, and it was to ask Tommy if she'd be able to take time off of work so that she could go to Virginia with Dave.

Reagan felt silly for feeling so keyed up. It wasn't like she had to ask Mr. Wilson himself — no, she was settling for his son, who effectively acted as second-in-command of the shop anyways. It just so happened that the boss's son had also once been her fling and was still considerably infatuated with her.

But even then so, Reagan had never asked for an extended period of time off from work. There had been certain odd days, like Kate's graduation or the time she'd caught the flu, in which she'd had to excuse herself from working. But never once had she proposed the idea of going on an actual vacation.

It was easy for her to assume that she could sweet talk Tommy into giving her what she wanted. Most likely, he'd feel bad for her anyways and accept her plea willingly. He was the one after all who had always told her to get a life. He probably would have rejoiced over finally seeing her take a break from slaving away for her family's sake.

All she had to do was make sure not to mention Dave. Only then was she guaranteed the answer she hoped for.

As if on cue, Tommy walked through the front door, ringing the overhead bell that signaled the entry of customers. Reagan glanced up from her rapid sweeping.

"Morning," Tommy smiled kindly. She looked down at his hands and saw that he was holding two grease-stained, brown paper bags.

"Hey," she said, leaning the broom against the counter.

Tommy walked over to her and handed her one of the bags. It was from McDonalds and smelled distinctly like one of their sausage, egg and cheese biscuits. He'd gone above and beyond that day. Usually he picked up breakfast for them both from the gas station.

"I figured you would have skipped breakfast again," he said knowingly.

"You aren't wrong," she admitted. Even though she wasn't hungry, Reagan plopped the bag down on the counter and pulled out the food, unwrapping the sandwich in her hands.

"I know you so well," he laughed as she took a bite.

"Yeah," she half-heartedly agreed, chewing through a mouthful while wondering if right then and there was the best time to spring her question on him.

He situated himself next to her and began to unpack his own meal, entering a state of silence as he did so. Reagan coughed into her hand, deciding that she ought to get on with it before he clocked in for the day. The kid ate like a wolf and would have polished off his Egg McMuffin in no time.

"Uhm, Tommy?"

"Ya?" Tommy mumbled through a mouthful, wiping his face with the back of his hand and looking at Reagan.

She felt her jaw lock nervously, but she reminded herself that there was really nothing for her to worry about. Tommy had always had a hard time telling her no in the past, even after they'd severed their short-lived relationship.