Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The school bus driver was advised not to drop them off at the house. There was no responsible adult at home, nor a poorly paid teenage babysitter to care for them. The two young brothers were to be taken instead to the very west side of town at the end of the road. There was nothing of particular interest past that point, just vast acres of tilled farmland and abandoned lots. If you traveled long enough on that empty road, you would eventually reach the interstate, driving deeper into the great state of Michigan, towards Kalamazoo. But you should stop first at Margaret’s Diner, the last establishment you would see for dozens of miles. It was here that Nick and Joshua spent after school, sitting at a small, unsteady table in the hot, busy kitchen right where their mother could keep an eye on them. Her children would not misbehave on her watch! And so, as a way to be good, Nick quietly sat and watched what happened. This is why, to this day, he firmly believes that the kitchen is the most intimate space in any building. Love could not possibly be made anywhere else.

Tuna Melt Tuesdays. Nick could smell the warmed, putrid, canned fish from across the street, mixed in with tangy mayonnaise and melted cheddar cheese. It made him sick. He couldn’t think of anything more revolting to shove down your throat, but the people in this town went hysterical for it. But, perhaps it had nothing to do with the ingredients and more to do with the cook, who has been crafting them for nearly thirty years, Daisy Mae. Pure, undiluted love seeped out of her skilled fingers, into the food, and into the numerous friends who frequented the little diner. Where else were you going to find something as genuine as that?

With quitting time on his mind, Nick rolled down the garage door, saying his goodbyes to his grimy coworkers after a long, strenuous day in the summer sun. Muscles tired and stomach empty, he lightly jogged to the other side of the empty road. Various vehicles nearly filled the parking lot, and the pink and blue vinyl booths inside were no doubt occupied. Nick, as usual, opted for his own personal seat in the back kitchen, watching the magic happen. After decades of witnessing the method to the madness, he still never got bored with it.

“Hey, Mama,” Nick kissed Daisy Mae’s hot cheek at one of the stoves, each burner cooking something different. The tuna stench was even more potent here and made no sincere apologies for assaulting his senses. Nick knew multiple orders were going through her mind rapidly while she executed each task with precision. The other kitchen staff was preparing plates as well: chopping, mixing, scooping, pouring, and seasoning. Well, all except for the dishwasher, who kept to himself and was working on his splash zone.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she greeted warmly with a smile, ladling some creamy tomato basil soup into a baby blue bowl. “Grab a tub of coleslaw from the walk-in, will you?” Placing the bowl onto the serving tray and sprinkling some freshly grated Parmesan cheese on top, she announced the order was ready.

Doing as he was told, Nick took refuge in the chill of the refrigerator and grabbed a container of homemade coleslaw from its shelf, noting the date. As he was latching the door, a blur of pastel pink and a brush of the swing skirt rushed past him, the welcoming fragrance of roasted vanilla following. Nearly forgetting about his task, Nick watched as the waitress tied her white waist apron, her back turned to him, while she talked to some of the crew and stepped out to the front in a matter of seconds. This wasn’t Janine or Alma, no. This woman had long blonde hair kept up in a high ponytail, and her white sneakers didn’t have any scuff marks on them yet.

“Who’s that?” Nick asked his mother, setting the coleslaw on the counter. He kept his eyes on the kitchen door, hoping the waitress would return.

“I think her name is June,” she answered, oiling up another pan. “Your plate is by the deep fryer.”

A hot Cuban sandwich with loaded potato skins—hold the bacon. Oh, she read his mind. He sat at the wobbly chrome-plated table across from the doorway of the staff room, out of the way but still in the kitchen, to talk. He took a large, hungry bite of his sandwich, savoring the flavors and thanking God he was alive to taste something so incredible. Daisy hauled a large pot of rinsed raw potatoes and two buckets to his table, sitting at last across from him, taking Joshua’s old seat. She took a small knife out of her stained apron and began peeling.

“So, where’d you go today?” She asked him her daily question. Soon enough, a skinless potato plopped into the bucket as she reached for another one. She peeled rapidly and accurately, never taking her eyes off the sharp blade.

Hesitating, Nick took a sip of his bottled water, avoiding eye contact. “Detroit.”

She shook her head. “You know it scares me when you go over there.”

He shrugged, finishing off a potato skin. “It’s where the work is, Mama. I can’t help it.”

“There’s plenty of work here. Rosedale.”

“Yeah, but no money. You know how rich people wouldn’t be caught dead mowing their own lawns.”

Throwing another peeled potato in the bucket, she sighed heavily. “The worst thing they ever did was close that steel mill.”

There was no real hope for them after that. His father turned out for the worse because of it, prompting the family to go their separate ways. He was getting by as far as Nick could tell, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know how. Joshua signed up for the military and was on the other side of the country for training, far away from them. Daisy worked even more than ever at the diner, happily supporting herself. And Nick’s college plans were thrown into the garbage. Life had been at a standstill, the luxury of wanting anything else taken from him. It was about surviving until the end of the month, for years on end. And that was just the way it was.

The kitchen door swung open, and a waitress came in for orders. It was the blonde one—June. She was too far away for Nick to get a good look, unfortunately, but he kept his eyes on her all the same. What was it about her? They haven’t had a new waitress in years; the last one quit suddenly without much of a goodbye. Frederick, the manager, seemed distraught about it, but Nick had a feeling it had more to do with simply recruiting a quick replacement. Nick certainly enjoyed the company of the other waitresses, Alma and Janine, having grown up with them since elementary school. And maybe that’s why. He knew everyone in this one-stoplight town, but not her. Not June. Where did she come from, and why did she choose Rosedale of all places?

“Is she the new hire?” Nick changed the subject. “June?” Even saying her name out loud stirred something inside him. What was it?

“I suppose,” his mother answered, not looking up from her potatoes. “All I know is that she’s come in late almost every day.”

“And what does Fred have to say about that?” he asked, taking another bite from his sandwich. He swears he’s sent to heaven every time.

“You know how he is with these girls. More than once, I’ve told him to cool it. No wonder that girl left.”

“Is that what you think happened?”

Just then, the back door opened, and the devil himself floated in, smelling strongly of cigarette smoke. He was the only one allowed to wear black, his shroud of darkness, Nick mused. “Hey, Nick,” Frederick greeted him with a cold grin, a toothpick between his teeth. “Enjoying a meal on the house?”

“Leave him alone, Fred,” Daisy Mae told him. She always peeled her potatoes more vigorously when he was around. She knew her way around a knife.

It was true, though. Nick never paid for his daily meals here. He never expected them, either, though. He only came to Margaret’s to visit his workaholic mother; her love came in the form of food, and who was he to deny such an offering? And it wasn’t like he didn’t earn his keep. Many times, the diner had been short-staffed, and he stepped in to help without any pay. He was familiar with every position, having observed the same old routine for over twenty-five years since he was a toddler. Recently, he filled in to wait tables until this June came along. He despised wearing the pastel blue slacks and shirt sleeves, not to mention that dumb matching bowtie and hat. But he still did it with a smile. You’re welcome, Frederick.

With this distasteful presence now at the diner, Nick quickly finished his (free) food. He said his goodbyes to his mother, promising to return tomorrow for Chicken Waffle Wednesday. Oh, how he could already taste the rich, sweet maple syrup. Leaving out the back door, the hot summer air remained as the sun wouldn’t set for another few hours, but it was no different from the heat in the kitchen. Looking both ways, Nick leisurely crossed the vacant street and went back to the three-car garage, or, well, the apartment above it.

At nine o’clock, Margaret’s closes, and that big, bright neon sign finally shuts off for the night. This typically advises Nick to head for bed now that the moonlight gets her chance to shine. He was in his tiny living room, catching up on some reading. Placing the Snickers bar wrapper he used as a bookmark in the gutter of his novel, he set it down on the end table and turned out the lamp, surrounding himself in darkness. Before closing the curtains, he had a habit of giving the little diner a caring glance, making sure everything was normal. By now, they were finishing up the cleaning of the dining room and counting the deposit in the office, preparing for a new day.

Just like that, June No-last-name was on his mind again. Clocking the only unusual car in the parking lot, a blue classic Cadillac, he assumed it was hers. Why hasn’t he noticed her before? She had been there for at least a week, from the way his mother talked. Did they just miss each other? Was she always that late? Or was she simply too busy out front? Nick saw the rest of the lights turn off, and the crew headed outside. Janine and Alma were talking with June, who was still too far away in the darkness for Nick to see much of her. Frederick was leaning against the building, taking a smoke, interrupting the women with whatever he thought was appropriate to say. June appeared to decline whatever he offered, walking straight to her car. Craning his neck, Nick watched her taillights drive down the road toward town until he couldn’t see them anymore. And suddenly it became very clear what he needed to do.

Despite not offering the sugary sweet, it was the Margaret’s cotton candy dream to spruce up her diner lobby in a pastel, dreamy wonderland. This was not only reflected in the waitstaff’s uniforms, but also in the furniture, walls, floors, decor, and dishes. Everything was pink, blue, white, and chrome, save for the Wurlitzer jukebox and beverage area behind the bar. Not much had changed in the past fifty years, and even when it began, Margaret wanted that classic, vintage essence to it all. Red and black were too harsh, too overdone, too expected.

Nick couldn’t help but look around while he sat in a blue booth. He didn’t usually dine in the actual dining room; his place was in the silver and stainless steel cavern that was the sweltering, smelly kitchen. Out here was like stepping into a fairytale, an imaginary realm. He never had time to fully admire the aesthetics when he had to cover a shift. He almost felt out of place with his filthy work boots, grass-stained jeans, and the same fluorescent green t-shirt he worked in all day. Keeping his hands busy, he folded and refolded his paper napkin and rearranged the condiments in their chrome trays. He then checked his watch, a little after four o’clock. When was June supposed to arrive again? Dolly Parton sang from the old jukebox: You’re messing up my mind and filling up my senses.

“Nick?” Alma walked up to his table, taking out her notebook. “What are you doing out here?”

“How are things?” Nick asked back as casually as he could.

“June, the new girl, is late, again,” she rolled her big, brown eyes. “Janine and I can’t do much more of this, I can tell you that. I don’t know about the boys, though.” She clicked her pen, setting it to paper. “What do you want?”

“Just give her a chance,” Nick advocated. Why was he defending a woman he hadn’t even met yet?

“You know, she’s not even from around here,” Alma whispered, leaning in. “Yeah, her plates say ‘Massachusetts.’ Who comes here from Massachusetts?”

The kitchen door swung open, and June came into the front with a serving tray full of food. With a kind smile, she delivered to a table of four on the far side of the lobby, her ponytail swinging just as fast as she walked. Nick locked his eyes on her, observing, memorizing, each of her movements and mannerisms. Her affecting spirit took up space not only in this room, but in his brain, inch by inch, cell by cell.

Alma sighed tiredly, putting a hand on her hip. “Here she is. Finally.” She checked her watch and clenched her jaw. “I’m not asking you again, Nick. What do you want?”

“Have June come over here,” Nick suggested. “That way, if she messes up, it’s just me. Gives you a break.”

Alma narrowed her eyes at him, thinking. “Fine. But you’re in my station. Move over there.” She pointed to the front right corner, which was thankfully empty at the moment.

Nick wrapped his silverware in his crumpled-up napkin and headed that way.

“Nick?” Alma asked behind him.

He turned to look at her. “Yeah?”

“You still never answered my question. Why aren’t you in the back?”

Nick glanced at June, who was even closer now, only a few tables away. With Alma’s big mouth, his intentions would be known just as quickly as she could make it to the kitchen. With eyes back on Alma, he vaguely replied, “Top secret.”

Alma gawked at him, mouth slightly ajar, trying to figure him out.

Nick took his seat by the corner pink booth, smoothing out his napkin. His heart was pounding for some reason, his mind suddenly blank. He talked to girls all the time; well, maybe not all the time. But either way, how could this be any different?

“Hi, welcome to Margaret’s,” June greeted him as she retrieved her notebook from her apron and placed a laminated menu in front of him. She paused for a few seconds as she gazed into the deep brown eyes of her new guest, her mouth slightly open. Once she caught herself staring, she blinked a few times and continued, “I’m June. I’ll be serving you today. Can we start with something to drink?”

For his whole life, Nick had seen the pale pink uniform dress, supported by a full petticoat, with white cuffs on the short sleeves, as well as a white, wide collar, piped with a darker shade of pink, and the tied waist apron and lace ruffled socks the waitresses were forced to wear. These he had grown accustomed to, almost fading into the mundane. But not those bright blue eyes and that warm smile. Never.

Nick cleared his throat. “Water would be fine. Hold the ice, though.”

“Coming right up,” she assured, whisking herself away, her scent of vanilla following.

He finally breathed once she was gone, forcing the air into his lungs. Oh, what was he doing? This could end so badly before it can even start—what was “it” anyway? What could he possibly want? And what could she get in return? He avoided relationships and romance due to this very problem. He had nothing to offer. So why even try?

He tried playing down his emotions by rationalizing the situation: She was simply the new girl. Give it a few weeks, and this will all be normal. She’ll just be like one of the girls, and this whole thing will be thrown to the back of his mind. He barely had time with the waitresses anyway.

Janine stopped short as she passed by, her red curly hair bouncing in the air. “Nick? Why are you in the lobby?” She glanced toward the kitchen. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he shook his head, “nothing’s wrong.”

“So…?”

“Can’t I be out here just because?” he countered, slightly annoyed.

“I don’t like this,” she said and walked off to the bar where June and Alma were preparing beverages. There, they whispered amongst themselves, trying not to look in his direction.

“Here you go,” June dropped off his water with a straw, the glass a translucent pink. “Are you ready to order yet? Today’s special is fried chicken and waffles, served with a drizzle of maple syrup.”

Nick tore the paper off his plastic straw and stuck it in his cup, the ice clinking against the sides.

“Oh, shoot,” June said, hand on her forehead, “you said no ice.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Nick tried to smooth it over. “Why complain about extra water in my water?” This made him want to crawl underneath the table and die immediately. What was he even saying?

She let out a small laugh that nearly killed him all the same. “I suppose that’s true.”

Nick looked at her for a little too long before saying, “Tell Daisy Nick is here. She’ll know what to do. No rush.”

With this, she didn’t know quite what to say, so she, too, looked at him for a little too long before walking away. Soon enough, patrons were snapping their fingers at her or calling out her name loudly. Only once did she serve the wrong order, and, naturally, it was the end of the world for the customers. June had a habit of apologizing frequently, with Janine or Alma coming over to save the day. A few of the men had ordered “her beautiful smile” or “a side of her sweet sugar,” dropping napkins or forks so they could watch her bend over and pick them up. One even put his hand on her arm, Nick noticing her tense up. Then, a loud family of six came in, thankfully in Janine’s section, but nonetheless tripping June up with all the commotion.

At last, Nick’s dinner was served, the maple syrup off to the side just the way his mother knew he wanted. His mouth watered at the buttery, salty aroma of the fried chicken, combined with the slightly sweet waffles. June refilled his water once more, remembering no ice. “So, you’re Nick,” she mused, as she set down the glass.

Nick felt awkward eating in front of her, knowing several hours would pass before she got to have some food herself. He nodded, his name on her lips echoing in his mind. “Yeah.”

June looked over to Alma and Janine, taking in a deep breath. “Look,” her face was stone-cold, but her eyes were on fire, “if Fred put you up to this, Alma said she knows exactly where you live, and she’ll make sure you’ll never have a good night’s rest ever again.” With each word she said, she shot a bullet, hoping to kill.

And… Nick was a goner, no doubt about it. Never mind the way she could expertly sprinkle sweetness into every word she spoke; the way she threatened sent him right over the edge, free-falling into madness. Such passion, such fervor. God. What was wrong with him? How could he smooth things over, yet somehow make her threaten him even more? Heat quickly spread to his cheeks, even to his ears, and to his chest. I fell into a burning ring of fire, the jukebox played. You said it, Mr. Johnny Cash, Nick thought.

“I’m not up to anything,” he held back a smile, keeping his eyes down.

She sneered. “Oh, sure. You think you can get away with anything just because you’re Daisy’s son. Right?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “We’re on to you.”

Oh, he wished she were on him. Ah, on to him. He bit his lip. “What do you think I’m up to, then?”

“You’re spying on us,” she simply answered. “You’re a spy, aren’t you? For Fred?”

The very insinuation of working for a man such as Frederick was insulting, to say the least. Oh, he’ll have to get Alma back for this one. Nick couldn’t help but be a little hurt by her belief in this juvenille conspiracy. For years, he strove to distance himself from the sick man in every way possible. He wanted that sleazy, overpowering, dirtbag fired. And never mind the way he is as a person; his managerial skills were in the toilet. Nick hated to see Margaret’s revered legacy ruined all because of him.

He shook his head and looked at her earnestly. “No.”

“Is that the truth?”

“Yes.”

She looked over at Janine and Alma once more, but they were too occupied serving tables. One of June’s customers tried to get her attention, but she ignored them. “If you’re not a spy, then why are you out here? They said you’re usually in the back.”

Nick looked into her eyes a little longer, knowing he couldn’t deny it anymore. “I…wanted to see you,” he finally admitted, with the air of defeat. “That’s all.”

June’s face slightly softened, and she blinked several times. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

She stared down at her white shoes, putting on her tough armor again. Her fist clenched, and her jaw locked. Tearing off Nick’s guest check, she placed it on the pink table. “I’m no one to see,” she said quietly and left him be.

Nick ate his food in silence, without any interruption. June tended to all the other demanding tables except for his. She didn’t even look his way. Reviewing the brief conversation in his mind, he tried to figure out where it had gone wrong and what had caused her to become so stiff. He knew he would screw this up. He just didn’t think it would be this fast. Scraping the last of the syrup up with his waffle, he decided to be the better person. Maybe something happened to June recently that made her act this way. Maybe it was simply the thankless and exhausting work the job had to offer.

Taking out his wallet, Nick placed all the cash he had on the table. He made sure he left his dishes easy to clear, saving them time. With no goodbyes, not even to his mother, he exited the diner. He was going home much later than usual, the sun a little lower in the sky. The humidity, however, stayed the same, smacking him right in the face. A long yawn came through him. A steamed shower and an early bedtime would do him some good after the day he had.

“Hey!”

Just as Nick was about to cross the street, he turned back. There was June, the sun putting a spotlight on her through the clouds, having her skin glow and her eyes sparkle. He hadn’t seen anything like it.

“You forgot this,” she said, coming up to him, the twenty-dollar bill in her hands. “You eat for free, don’t you? That’s what they said.”

“Keep it,” he told her, “don’t share it with the girls.”

“I don’t need your lousy money.”

Nick sighed. “Look, whatever I did to make you hate me, I’m sorry.”

She stood still, taking in his honest words. Then, quietly, “I don’t hate you.”

Nick nodded slightly, trying to believe her. He was still trying to learn her language—the language she used with only her eyes, her mouth, the silent pauses, her breath intake. What was the truth, and what was she hiding? With her being only an arm’s length away, there was an energy between them. He could feel it. And she did, too. For, why else hasn’t she gone back inside?

“Have you ever been to The Rosebud?” Nick heard himself ask. Oh, what was he doing now?

Her eyebrows knitted together. “What?”

“The Rosebud, the movie theater on Main?”

“I haven’t had much time to explore.”

He bit his lip. “Are you free tomorrow?”

She gave him a sly look, catching on. She shrugged casually. “Sure.”

“Wanna meet me there? Seven o’clock?”

She licked her lips, holding back a smile. Then, with eyes locked on him, she folded the twenty-dollar bill, unbuttoned her dress slightly, and slid the money into her bra. She took her time with this so he wouldn’t miss a thing. And without a word, she buttoned herself again, tightened her ponytail, turned on her heels, and left him alone on the curb.

Later that night, Nick had sweated out the sheets, certainly because of the relentless summer heat and lack of air conditioning in that old shoebox of his, and not because of anything else.

Chapter Text

The laminated diner menus presented two sides' worth of appetizers, sandwiches, salads, soups, sides, entrees, daily specials, desserts, and beverages, each with its detailed descriptions and prices. It informed the guest that everything was handmade with fresh, locally sourced ingredients and requested that they notify the waitstaff of any known allergies. The menu also told them that they were a cash-only establishment and that the nearest ATM was two blocks away. Finally, it boasted that Margaret’s Diner was a female-owned business for over fifty years, proudly serving the family and friends of Rosedale, Michigan. However, besides all this information, there was a mysterious blank area underneath the daily special Theater Thursdays. “A dish from your favorite flick!” was all the blurb provided, no specifics; only that it was seven dollars, and please, no refunds.

Theater Thursdays were the only day of the week Daisy Mae could have the most creative control over the day’s menu, and she looked forward to them. She wouldn’t tell anybody her idea until the day of, keeping it a surprise. Several regulars made it their mission to visit on these days specifically to discover what Margaret’s was serving—a secret worth keeping. Though you never knew what you were going to be eating, there was no true gamble or risk. Whatever Daisy Mae created would never, ever disappoint. It was entirely against her nature.

“Fried green tomatoes,” Nick commented unenthusiastically as he grabbed his warmed plate from the counter. He brought it over to his old table by the staff room, unsure how this was going to taste.

“You'd better eat quickly,” his mother said, hands on her hips, “we have a problem.”

Nick nodded, cutting himself a piece of fried tomato and dipping it into the homemade rémoulade sauce. He fell in love instantly. Oh, how does she do it? He knew better than to doubt her. “Where is this from?”

“The movie, Fried Green Tomatoes,” she said, like it was obvious. “It’s a classic!”

Shoving another addicting forkful in his mouth, he asked, “What’s the problem?”

“Frederick showed up drunk today,” she sighed tiredly. She was focused on mixing batter in a metal bowl.

“Again?” He gulped some water. She did not mess around with that sauce, that’s for sure.

“Yeah, I sent him home this time.”

With another heavenly bite of the tomatoes, he immediately shot up from the table. “You should’ve told me!”

“Sit down!” she scolded sharply, pointing her spoon at him. “You need to eat. You were out in that hot sun all day, just withering away.”

He did as he was told, but tried to eat a little faster this time. “What about Serena?”

She shrugged, resuming her stirring. “Maternity leave.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Still?”

“I don’t think she’s coming back. Now that she’s a mom, she’s made that her whole life.” She shook her head, disappointed. “She made an excellent manager, too.”

He smirked. “Well, that’s one way of saying she was controlling.”

“It’s true! Better than Fred.”

“Oh, ten times better.” He ate a few more bites before asking, “So we’ve gone all day without a manager?”

“I’ve done what I could, but I won’t be the manager—”

“Unless you’re paid like a manager,” he finished her sentence for her. “And what am I being paid?”

Disappointment settled in the pit of his stomach, making the following bite of fried tomatoes difficult to swallow. He imagined poor June waiting outside the marquee later, alone and impatient, thinking less and less of him by the minute. He’ll have to make an embarrassing phone call to The Rosebud as soon as he has the chance. Tell the blonde I’m sorry. All he could do was hope she’d understand. Or, perhaps, it’s just not meant to be. This hurt him.

Daisy sat at the small table and examined her son’s nearly empty plate. Oh, how this filled her heart. “How’s it taste?”

“Good, better than what was in the movie,” he gave her his usual Thursday compliment.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a sweet boy.”

Right on time, or, rather, not on time, a pink flash of June came in through the back door, rushing to the staff room. Nick listened to the squeal of a locker door opening and the crisp punch of the ancient time clock. June halted suddenly at the doorway as she was exiting the staff room, looking at Nick, a surprised expression on her face. Something was different about her; he wasn’t sure what. After a few more seconds, she continued, tying her apron and getting the shift rundown from another cook. So. Either she had already forgotten their plans at The Rosebud, or she had no intention of even going there in the first place. This hurt Nick even more.

“What’s that about?” His mother questioned, wiggling her thin eyebrows at him.

Heat rushed to Nick’s cheeks, and he focused on finishing his meal. “Nothing, Mama.”

“Can’t be nothing if you chose to eat out there yesterday,” she countered. “I was wondering about you.”

Oh, this again? “Just trying something different.”

“Okay,” she said doubtfully, rising from the table. “There should be a clean uniform for you. I made sure.”

Nick drank the last of his water and went off to the staff room. There were a few stacks of rusty lockers, a cluttered fold-up table, chairs, a microwave, a minifridge, the punch clock, a telephone, and a bulletin board for any passive-aggressive notices. Off to the side was a small bathroom. Despite not being an official employee, Nick had his own locker, with a spare selection of uniforms ready in case of emergencies, including pastel blue for waiting tables, gray for kitchen staff, and black for managing the diner. He brought the black slacks, button-down, and shoes to the bathroom to change.

Once dressed, he checked himself over in the mirror. He needed a shower, but there was no time for that. So, he did what he could with a damp paper towel, removing the dirt he transported earlier today. Using his fingers, he combed through his dark curls with a sigh. There was nothing more he could do. Finally, he shoved his other work clothes into his locker and headed back into the kitchen.

Having been the (unpaid) manager on duty several times now, Nick had no worries or concerns. As long as you had a competent crew, the diner essentially ran itself, a well-oiled machine. A standard routine and workflow take the guessing out of it, leaving time for any real problems that may arise. All he had to do was make sure that the routine went uninterrupted. This meant keeping an attentive eye on things, including the crew and customers. The best part about it? A broomstick could do a better job than whatever the hell Frederick had been doing for the past three years.

“I’ll manage back here,” Daisy told him as she was removing some fried green tomatoes from the deep fryer, the smell of hot oil wafting in the air. “Just worry about the dining room.”

“Got it,” Nick replied, passing through and into the front area.

He surveyed the land, taking in a deep breath. Tonight’s shift would be Isaac, Janine, and June, who were all keeping busy and doing well. They had seven tables full so far. Of those seven, four were eating, two were waiting, and one was finishing. Every empty table was clean and ready to serve. The bar, however, needed some tidying up.

“Filling in for Fred?” Janine asked him as she was filling a cup with Coca-Cola from the dispenser.

“Yeah,” Nick answered, putting the box of plastic straws somebody forgot about back underneath the counter. When he looked up, he saw June coming out of the kitchen, gracefully balancing a tray full of dinner plates, and heading to the pink corner booth. It was the hair that was different. She had it down this time and curled it at the ends. This made her appear softer, but he knew inside there was a toughness about her that was hard to break.

“Do you know much about her?” Janine caught him staring.

Nick cleared his throat, grabbed a rag to wipe down the bar counter, and kept busy. “Who? June? I, uh, was gonna ask you the same thing.”

“She’s very private,” she told him, leaning against the sink. “But she’s blonde and beautiful, and with Fred acting more like…Fred, lately, I told her to be careful. Remember when I bleached my hair last year?”

Nick couldn’t help but smirk. “That was a mistake.”

Janine threw a crumpled-up straw wrapper at him. “He was all over me for like, a week!”

Nick watched June for a few more seconds as she made friendly conversation with some of the customers. He agreed with Janine: June was certainly blonde and beautiful. And that was a problem. Did she know how Frederick could be sometimes? The man reeked of creepiness. She couldn’t be that oblivious. Nevertheless, Nick swore to pay extra attention this time. Who knew what he did with that other waitress.

“The police come and talk to her,” Janine continued her report, watching June as well. “So far, it’s only been on Mondays. And only with Sheriff Wharton.”

“The police?” Nick whipped his head back towards Janine, his heart beating a little fast. “Is she in trouble?”

Janine shrugged and gathered her beverages on a tray, suddenly remembering her job. “I think the better question would be, is she trouble?” As she was heading back to her table, she paused. “I’m sorry about last night. The whole ‘spy’ thing…”

He began refilling the sugar packets at the bar. “Yeah, well, now I really am working for Fred.”

“For the record, I’m glad,” she told him sincerely before leaving the bar.

Noticing the silence in the diner, Nick took a couple of quarters from the change bowl underneath the counter and headed to the jukebox to queue up a few songs. The old Wurlitzer’s 45s have not been updated since he was a child, but they still played relatively smoothly. He flipped through over a hundred selections, trying to find a song to fit the mood. It wasn’t long before he felt June come up beside him. She still smelled like roasted vanilla.

“You said you were free tonight,” Nick stated, but not entirely in an angry tone.

“I didn’t know you were serious,” she defended herself. “And if you recall, I never actually said ‘yes.’”

Nick browsed the songs a little longer before saying, “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. The Rosebud only plays black-and-white films no one’s ever heard of, anyway.”

She shrugged. “I like those movies.”

For the first time that night, he was able to look at her closely. The jukebox’s tubular, neon light cast a yellow-ish glow on her skin, much like the sun from yesterday. She had makeup on this time, her lips red, her eyelids painted and lined, her lashes long, her eyebrows penciled in, and her pores nearly undetectable. This, with her curled hair, he found intriguing, almost strange. Though he had not known her for long, he had a suspicion this was different for her, too.

“What’s all this?” He gestured to her face.

She gave a shy smile. “Oh, nothing, Fred just said I’d get better tips if I changed up my look a little.”

What a dog. “Really? How’s that working out?”

“I don’t know, this is my first try.” She bit her red lipstick-ed lip. “How much would you tip me?”

Such a bold question nearly took all the air out of his lungs. He let out a nervous laugh and continued his song-searching. “I already gave you everything I had last night.” A pause. “And that was without all of…that.”

Her eyes didn’t give away whether or not she approved of his answer. She simply looked at him straight on, her chin slightly in the air. “Well, what’s all this about?” Her eyes traveled up and down his black-clothed body. “You’re the manager tonight?”

“Fred got sent home. Drunk.”

“Huh, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

He looked up from the old jukebox. Was this a challenge? “I’ll…write you up for that.” You know, he used to be strong, once. But now he’d allow June to get away with anything as long as she kept looking at him like that.

She stood in place, a stubborn look on her face, and then left for the kitchen.

Punching in L7, Donna Summer’s voice came through the speakers. She works hard for the money.

The night went by as smoothly as one could hope for. June was improving, handling more tables and orders with accuracy. Janine and Isaac helped in a few instances, while Nick picked up any slack. Just as he expected, Daisy Mae kept a tight ship in the back, no nonsense! Only a few times did plates have to be remade, which was normal. As it got closer to eight o’clock, work slowed down a bit. Truckers on the late shift or well-traveled vagabonds usually come in at this point, merely passing through, requiring a hot cup of coffee, a plate full of carbs, and a visit to the restroom.

“Where’s Isaac?” Janine asked breathlessly as she quickly poured coffee into several cups behind the bar. “June’s on her break, and his station is looking like a mess.”

Nick sighed as he was drying off some pink and blue drinking glasses, noticing a few tables that still needed to be cleared. “I’ll go check.”

He swung the kitchen door open, searching for the young waiter. His mother had already gone home for the evening, leaving him the keys. Only a handful of the kitchen staff were essential at this time of night. The perpetually damp dishwasher was in the corner, splashing away and humming to himself. Some others were cleaning up the counters and equipment. One was setting sliced green tomatoes into the fryer. Nick noticed the back door was open, and a cloud of smoke wafted in the nighttime air along with the strong stench of nicotine.

“Isaac!” Nick shouted, heading to the back. “What are you doing?”

The teenager nearly jumped, catching sight of him. He had a lit cigarette in his hand. “Getting some fresh air.”

Nick seized the cigarette from him. “You’re sixteen. You shouldn’t be smoking.” This, of course, was entirely hypocritical of him. Youth certainly never stopped him from taking a drag, but Isaac didn’t need to know this. What Nick did on the night of his junior prom was none of his business.

He shrugged. “Fred doesn’t mind.”

This does not surprise him. “Fred’s not here.”

“Alright, calm down, old man.”

Nick nodded towards the kitchen. “You have tables to clean.”

Isaac sighed deeply, reluctantly pushed himself away from the wall, and headed back inside.

Nick took a quick drag of the cigarette for himself before stamping it out on the ground. It would be a shame to let it go to waste. He breathed in the cool night air, stretching his arms and waking himself up a little more. His energy had depleted hours ago; his muscles ached, and his head was pounding. It was already a long day before he ever came here. With a long yawn, he closed the back door behind himself and entered the kitchen again, greeted by a panicked Janine.

“Margaret is here,” she announced, eyes wide.

“Margaret?” Isaac questioned, stealing a few fries. What was he still doing in the kitchen? “Isn’t she like, ninety? Shouldn’t she be in bed by now?”

Nick glared at him. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

With a groan, the boy left the kitchen, adjusting his ridiculous baby blue hat.

“Alright,” Nick took a moment to think. “What did she order?”

“The special,” Janine answered, running her fingers through her untamed, curled locks. “She’s in June’s station.”

Nick nodded, understanding. “June will be fine. She can do it.”

“Do what?” June emerged from the staff room, a strawberry yogurt container in her hand.

“Break’s over,” he told her. “You have a customer.”

Though she was ninety, Margaret was still sharp and active, and always full of surprises. Standing barely above five feet and wearing colorful skirt suits with matching handbags, she nevertheless had a formidable presence about her. Nick had only met her a handful of times, but she continuously gave thoughtful birthday and Christmas gifts. Despite the substantial age gap, she and Daisy Mae were incredibly close. For decades, they had trusted and relied on each other through the worst and best of times. One could not simply be without the other. Nick wasn’t certain what his mother would do when the inevitable happened, but he knew he would be at her side.

Nick kept himself occupied at the bar, running through the closing checklist in his mind, keeping his eye on the clock. Frederick always left the place a mess, leaving more work for the openers. He was trying to listen to Margaret as she spoke with June, making sure everything was going smoothly.

“Oh, Nick, dear, come here!” Margaret caught sight of him, waving him over.

Pulse racing, Nick approached the blue booth. She had June sitting across from her, who was looking slightly uncomfortable. “Hello, Margaret,” he tried to sound polite and respectful.

“I was just talking to our new waitress, June,” the old woman began, gesturing towards her with a bony hand. “Isn’t she lovely?”

Nick gazed at June for a few seconds before responding, keeping his eyes on her. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Where is Frederick?” Margaret asked, brow furrowed. “I need to speak with him.”

Nick raised his eyebrows. “I was hoping you were. He’s…sick.”

Margaret nodded, putting a forkful of fried green tomatoes in her mouth. “Mmm, please do give your mother all my love; she’s done her magic!”

Nick smiled proudly. “I will. Should I pass anything along to Fred?”

She shook her head, taking a drink of her whole milk. “No, sweetheart, this sort of thing would be much better if done in person, if you know what I mean.”

He gave a slight nod. “I understand.”

“Well, it’s getting late,” June attempted to change the subject awkwardly. “I have some cleaning up to do.”

Margaret grasped her hand and told her sincerely, “Darling, there is absolutely nothing to worry about. I promise. You’re still so young! Life will find a way.”

June wasn’t sure what to say to this, so she simply offered a polite smile and left the table, looking for Janine.

“She’s a keeper,” Margaret said quietly, having more of her tomatoes.

Relief washed over Nick. Margaret had the final decision on who came, went, and stayed. She had different special arrangements with everyone. For Serena, it was maternity leave. Alma, school tuition. Daisy Mae, her clingy son to hang around every day. Get on her good side, and you’d be set for life. Nick didn’t know where her money came from, but it wasn’t his place to question or think about it. Here was a woman who had a cotton-candy-colored dream and pursued it, undeterred by anyone telling her what to do. Nick hoped he lived long enough to be that happy and content. He just didn’t know how.

Closing time came and went, the diner looking as spotless as possible. Nick knew Frederick would barely notice, let alone thank him for his service. Fortunately, he wasn’t doing it for him. Before leaving, Nick changed back into his day clothes, taking note of the smell. He had to be up again by five A.M., allowing no room to relax the moment he opened his apartment door. He was hoping for a better night’s rest this time, but there was no guarantee. His mind had been wandering far off track recently for some reason. After locking up, he lingered outside, making sure everyone had a way home. Janine left in her old Ford, and Isaac’s girlfriend, Eden, picked him up.

“You drove this thing all the way from Massachusetts?” Nick commented on June’s light blue classic Cadillac. It was something from before his mother’s time, but it was polished and flawless, ready for the open road.

“Yep,” June simply replied, climbing up on the trunk, taking a seat. She glanced around the vacant parking lot. “Do you need a ride home?”

He shook his head and pointed to the three-car garage across the street. “I live over there.”

She furrowed her brow. “You live in a garage?”

“No,” he let out a small smile, “I live right above it.” He wished he had left a light on so it wouldn’t have appeared so abandoned. Oh well. “I thought Alma told you.”

She shook her head. “All she told me was that she knew where you lived. I didn’t ask.”

He kicked a few loose stones across the lot. “Yeah, well, Alma’s full of it half the time. Watch out.”

She rolled her eyes and patted the open space beside her. And just like that, Nick completely disregarded the fact that he desperately needed to sleep and climbed up beside her. Now that the diner lights were off, the full moon shone brightly in the cloudless sky, numerous stars twinkling right around it. The crickets performed their usual one-hit-wonder song while the fireflies made themselves known in brief, yellow bursts.

“So…” June thought out loud, testing the waters with him, “what do you do when you’re not over here?”

“I go down to the garage.” When she reacted with a curious head tilt, he continued, “Guardian Landscaping. I take care of people’s ‘outdoor living spaces,’ as my boss describes it.”

“Oh?” She nodded toward his dirty t-shirt. “Here I thought you just liked wearing that hideous neon green for fun.”

Nick raised an eyebrow, thinking about how to rival her banter. “Do I pull it off?”

“I somehow actually prefer that priestly manager's getup,” she giggled. “Better than what I have to deal with. This stupid thing,” she fluffed out her petticoat, “is like an oven.”

Nick struggled not to think of her being too warm down there and tried to make a joke. “Shall I absolve you from all your sins?”

She bit her lip, looking into his eyes for a moment. “No, too many.”

Heat rushed to his face, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. What was that supposed to mean? “Why haven’t I seen you here before?”

“I was working opening shifts when I first started until Fred switched me to closing,” she answered. “I liked it the other way, though.”

Of course, he did. He was a creature of the night, after all. “You should be careful with him.”

“I know,” she replied. “The girls told me everything about him. Weak men like Fred just want their egos flattered. That’s all.”

So was she then only flattering Nick’s ego? He didn’t think he was important enough even to have one. As of yet, all she’s done to him is the exact opposite. Maybe this meant something.

“So is this lawn boy thing your passion?” June reverted to their first subject of conversation, nodding towards the garage.

Passions? Who had the time and money for those? And did she just call him a “lawn boy”? Oh, she definitely wasn’t flattering his ego. But did he mind? “It pays the bills,” he shrugged. “I’m also a driver for the other nine months of the year.”

She raised an eyebrow. “For whom?”

“Rosedale Elementary.”

She was quiet for a moment, hesitating. “Is that a good school?”

“It’s the only school; that’s what it is. Why?”

“Just wanted to make sure it wasn’t some idiot factory,” she held back a smile.

There she goes again. Had this turned into insulting? Teasing? Flirting? He couldn’t tell, but he was impressed with whatever it was. He was helplessly falling even more for her the longer he was around her. He almost wanted her to do it again. Was she aware of what she was doing to him, or was she being innocently naive? Oh, to crawl inside that sick mind of hers.

“Do you like kids?” she asked, folding and refolding her apron in her lap.

What kind of question was that? He hesitated with his response. “I think to like kids, you have to understand kids.” He leaned back on her rear windshield, looking up at the starry night sky. “And I don’t think many people do.”

June leaned back beside him, sighing. The universe and all its grand celestial bodies reflected on her own, a sight one could not possibly look away from. “The skies out here are so beautiful.”

Nick simply gazed at her for a few more moments until he asked softly, “What happened in Massachusetts?”

A minute passed before she answered, “My husband died. Cancer.” She did not dare look at him while she said this.

Oh.

With his experience, Nick understood well enough that men either died from cancer or were cancer. There was no in between. Given that his father was still alive, he has the scarred memories to prove it. By this logic, this must have meant June’s husband was a decent man who merely became a tragic victim of fate and destiny. Despite the heartbreak, this made Nick feel a little better. At least June had experienced love, knew love, and was loved. At least she wasn’t so lonesome all this time.

“I’m sorry,” Nick offered. He knew this didn’t mean much to her, but he had to say something.

“So I left,” she simply said, her voice no louder than a whisper. “I figured if anyone were going to give me a helping hand, it would be from the state that was shaped like one. That, or Ohio, the ‘heart of it all.’”

“Well, I’m glad you chose the winner’s side,” Nick smiled, though knowing she probably had no idea what he was talking about.

She turned on her side, facing him. “I also wanted to visit the Lakes. I got so tired of Boston Harbor.”

Boston. He’ll have to remember that. “Which ones?” Nick faced her as well. Their knees were slightly touching now, and he was trying very hard not to think about that.

She shrugged. “Why not all of them? I could get a journal and write down what I like or dislike about them. Turn it into an adventure. Have you ever been to one?”

“Only Erie,” he admitted, remembering. He wished he had a more impressive answer, like Superior or Ontario. But Erie it was.

“I hope to go soon,” she confessed. “I’ve been saving up my waitress money. Margaret even gave me a fifty-dollar tip.” She patted her chest, a prideful smile on her face.

“I wish I could take you to them.” He must have foolishly said this out loud as she blinked a few times, breathless. He could never take this back now.

“HOMES,” she eventually whispered, recovering from his rather bold statement. “Sounds cozy.”

Without much thought, Nick took his hand and caressed her cheek, tenderly brushing his thumb across her soft skin. It fit so well, her face in his hand, a long-lost match. He looked into those blue eyes, as blue as those lakes themselves, and just as peaceful. Then, with courage, he moved his hand along her jaw and to her chin. His thumb rested on her bottom red lip, and he opened her mouth slightly. Her breath hitched, and she felt so warm under his gentle touch. However, as he slowly leaned in, she immediately sat up, causing his arm to fall limp, making a loud clunk on the trunk’s lid.

“I should probably go,” Nick said shyly, sitting up and sliding himself off the car.

“I don’t kiss before the first date,” June vaguely explained, arms folded.

Nick certainly had his own opinions about that…unique rule, but if those were her boundaries, then he ought to respect them. “We tried, remember?”

She gave him a daring look, holding his eyes hostage. “Try harder.”

Nick gulped, not expecting such a request. No, it was a direct demand. “How about tomorrow?”

“I’m free.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure?”

“The Rosebud. Seven o’clock. Right?”

He nodded. “That’s right.”

She jumped down from the trunk and faced him. Her eyes flicked down to his lips and back up. “Goodnight, Nick.” She gave him that smile that wonderfully wrecked him inside. And she very well knew it.

Chapter Text

Drizzled with sweet maple syrup, sprinkled with powdered sugar, and topped off with fresh berries, Nick had a glorious stack of pancakes before him. Flapjack Fridays was Josh’s idea back when he was only ten years old, with Nick eagerly endorsing it. Breakfast for dinner sounded so rebellious, so tempting, so fun that Margaret’s simply had to serve it. Daisy Mae agreed to the simple request, keeping her young children happy. There wouldn’t be any stress to get the dinner special ingredients prepared in time; just keep dishing out fluffy pancakes, savory omelets, and seasoned home fries all day.

“What’s the matter?” his mother asked him while she was at the griddle, waiting to flip the pancakes. “You’re late.”

After taking a bite that was slightly too large for his mouth, Nick checked his watch. It was closer to five-thirty, which, truthfully, was a bit unusual for him. “Big job,” was all he said, gulping down some cold orange juice.

“Must be,” she commented, flipping the pancakes. She knew exactly how long to wait. No burning on her watch! “Detroit?”

He shook his head, cutting up his pancakes a little more. “No, Ann Arbor. Deck installation.” Oh, how his muscles throbbed just thinking about it. Why his boss agreed to begin a big job on a Friday was certainly beyond him, but he’s glad he has the weekend to recover.

She did one of her heavy sighs again. “Still as far.”

“I bet you hate that I live on the other side of town as you,” he teased.

“My baby,” she shook her head and placed the finished pancakes on a few pink plates. “It’s already hard enough knowing your brother is in that camp all the way in California.”

Nick kept quiet about this. He was missing Joshua, too. It’s been months since he received any word from him, but he wasn’t too worried. He hadn’t been deployed yet; he wasn’t ready. They've just been training him hard and keeping him busy, that’s all. Nick had to believe this. He only hoped his older brother was behaving himself. He knew how hostile he could get when getting yelled at. Oh, but if only he could talk to him, even for just a few minutes.

“Margaret gives her love,” Nick mentioned, changing the subject.

Daisy stopped mixing the pancake batter. “She was here last night?”

He nodded, swallowing another bite. “Came in to see Fred.”

She raised her eyebrows and continued with her whisk and bowl. “Really?”

“Oh, don’t act all surprised,” he smiled at her. “You know what’s coming.”

Daisy only sighed and shook her head. She filled an old mayonnaise squeeze bottle with the batter and continued making pancakes. This was how they always came out perfectly round. She expected nothing less.

After about ten more minutes, Nick finished his pancakes and said goodbye to his mother, promising to visit her in the morning. With June on his mind again, he crossed the vacant street and went up to his apartment. He had about an hour to shower, get dressed, overthink, and panic. And this he did, only he had to save the panicking for the road. He never knew quite what to wear in situations like these. He hadn’t gone out on a proper date since his early twenties, but anything would be better than that ugly bright green; June practically said so herself last night. So, he opted for the only pair of jeans he didn’t wear to work and a plaid button-down. Did it even matter? Would June care? He tried not to think of this as “romance.” There was no point in adding unnecessary pressure on two strangers merely getting to know each other. But, God, was he looking forward to kissing her later.

Grabbing his keys, Nick descended the stairs, heart pounding in his chest. However, as soon as he opened the door to go outside, he quickly understood there would be no going to The Rosebud that night. He wished relief washed over him instead of devastating heartbreak. But there it was. The blue classic Cadillac at Margaret’s Diner. He tried to rationalize all the possible reasons for this, besides her hurting him on purpose, as he crossed the street. He didn’t remember seeing June’s car earlier. Maybe she was catching a bite to eat beforehand?

No.

June was wearing her pastel pink dress uniform and white apron, taking down orders in her notebook, and answering questions. She had her hair halfway up this time, the ends curled, and a face full of makeup again, hoping for positive results. But her glowing smile faded as soon as she caught sight of him at the diner’s entrance. Her eyes were apologetic, her brow furrowed, and she hesitated before going into the kitchen.

“Weren’t you already here?” Alma asked him, holding a tub of dirty dishes.

“I, uh, I just wanted to speak with June,” he stammered. His mind was spinning, struggling to accept what was happening.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “About what?”

“I’ll wait,” Nick simply told her, selecting a seat in June’s station.

“You’re still spying on us, aren’t you?” Alma followed him, keeping her voice low.

He sighed heavily, annoyed with this story. “No, Alma, I’m not.” He paused, making sure she was listening. “You know, it hurts me to know you think I could ever betray you guys for Fred. How long have you known me for?”

She sighed also, shaking her head. “Way too long, Nick, way too long. But,” she readjusted the tub on her hip, “to be fair, June is still an enigma. I don’t blame you.” She patted his shoulder and left for the kitchen, giving the poor dishwasher something to do. Nick would have to consider this as an apology.

After a few minutes, June came out of the kitchen, holding a tray of appetizers. She avoided his eye and simply moved to her other tables. Something about this felt familiar to Nick. I’m no one to see, she had told him that Wednesday night. What was that about anyway? He hadn’t given it much thought until now. Billy Joel was pounding on his piano through the jukebox. All I want is someone to believe.

“Hey,” June finally came by his table, taking a seat across from him in the blue vinyl booth.

“Hi,” he said flatly. He was searching her eyes for some type of explanation. Could she really be that cold? Was last night just a joke to her?

She tucked a lock of her curled blonde hair behind her ear, her jewel-studded earrings twinkling in the sunset’s rays through the window. “I’m sorry. I would have called you if I had your number.”

“No, not before the first date.” He, too, can have rules.

She nodded, taking in a deep breath, folding her hands on the pink table. “Look, I think our priorities are too different right now to make this work.”

Rejection was a hard pill to swallow, and it’s been a while since he had to take that large, humble gulp. But he didn’t want to give up on her completely. They had time. There was no need to rush into things. June had recently lost the love of her life and travelled over seven hundred miles just to feel something again. Not to mention, she was stuck working here. She needed time and space, and he had to respect that. But still, her eyes from last night didn’t lie. She wanted something.

“What happened, June?” he softly asked.

“Janine needed someone last-minute to cover her shift,” she answered, trying to remain calm. This was hurting her, too. “And I really need the money. You know how good the tips are on Fridays. The only other person to call was Isaac, who doesn’t know what periods are and didn’t understand ‘what the big deal was.’” She rolled her eyes.

He nodded, folding his arms on the table. “Okay.”

She bit her red-painted lip. “Are you mad?”

How could he be? It wouldn’t be fair. Just yesterday, he was hoping she would understand when he had to fill in for Fred. Nick knew her problem very well. Perhaps their priorities weren’t as different as she thought. Survival was his game, too. It sucked, but at least she wasn’t being deliberately cruel to him.

“No,” he answered sincerely.

She nodded. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, remorse flooding her eyes. “I was looking forward to tonight…” She slumped against the back of the booth. “This is so terrible.”

“No, it’s not,” he tried to reassure her. He hadn’t considered himself much of an optimist before now, so saying these few words and believing them felt strange, but also honest. What has happened to him?

“Look,” she reached out, gently placing a hand on his arm, “I think you’re really—”

“Nick!” Frederick slithered his way over to their table. “What a surprise to see you out here!”

June immediately brought her hands down to her lap, avoiding Frederick’s eye, her body becoming stiff.

But Nick looked straight at him. “I was just talking with June.”

“Oh, yeah?” Frederick’s beady eyes looked over to her, and he set a long, slender claw on her shoulder, nearly massaging it, pressing down, digging in, and traveling far.

Nick’s stomach twisted. If this was what Fred was pleased to do in front of him, he could barely tolerate imagining what happened when no one was around. He watched June’s stony face, her eyes fixed on her lap. She was powerless. But wasn’t he also? Oh, but he couldn’t stand him touching her like that, nor even with Alma and Janine or whoever. This was enough.

“Lay off, Fred,” Nick firmly stated, glaring at him. While he possessed no true power here, he had to try something, anything, whatever it took to get him to stop. He wished so badly he could take June far away from him, not in a jealous type of way, but so that she could be free from such vulgar behavior. But men like that were everywhere, and he couldn’t possibly protect her from all of them.

Frederick’s face fell, much like a child when you tell him playtime is over. He leaned in close to June’s ear and said, “Get back to work, hon.”

Nick cleared his throat. “Margaret came by last night looking for you.”

Frederick raised his eyebrows, his mouth slightly open, nearly revealing his foul forked tongue. “Oh? What for?”

“She wouldn’t say, but it sounded serious,” he warned him.

“Thanks for always keeping an eye out for me, Nick,” he praised. “I’m glad I have someone like you to rely on.”

Nick wanted to vomit all over the table. You idiot!

June rolled her eyes once Frederick was finally gone. “He didn’t even thank you for working last night.”

Nick shrugged. “He never does.” Then, “Does he always touch you like that?”

June offered an uncomfortable smile. “I guess. It’s…it’s not really a—” Her face suddenly turned pale, mouth gaping, eyes looking toward the diner’s entrance. “No,” she whispered.

Nick normally saw Rita Blue around the elementary school where she taught second grade. Her students only gave the greatest reports about her while he intently listened to them on the bus. They always brought her special treasures to her “Something Blue” themed classroom. Nick hoped to see this magical place someday; he’s grown quite fond of the color recently. Rita was also an accomplished baker and thus had a natural connection with Daisy Mae. Nick’s mother has begged her dozens of times to supply the diner with her renowned homemade bread, but she always refused. Instead, she only gifted Daisy a loaf or two for Thanksgiving, telling her you can’t possibly put a price on love.

Nick reminisced about those golden loaves of bread and how well they went with leftover turkey as Rita approached their table. She had a young girl with her, probably about four years old, who was as cute as could be. But Nick had never seen her before.

“What’s wrong?” June instantly questioned, trying to keep the panic at bay.

“Hey, Nick,” Rita politely addressed him, but her face was forlorn, and he could recognize she was stressed and worried.

“Hi, Rita,” he replied. He looked at her, then to June, and finally at the girl. What was this?

“June, please, I’m sorry,” Rita nearly begged, voice trembling. “Something…happened, and I can’t watch her.”

“No, no.” June quickly reached into her apron pocket, pulling tip money out. “I’ll pay extra. It’s just a few more hours.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Rita shook her head. There were tears in her eyes.

Nick kept his eyes on the little girl, giving her a friendly smile and a little wave. So. This was June’s daughter. He had made sure to hang on to every word she had said so far, and none of them mentioned her being a mother. Why not? It was all starting to make sense, little by little. June had someone to care for and provide for, especially since her husband had died recently. Nick felt so awful for thinking she rejected him for trivial reasons. Now, there was so much more to consider. She was merely striving to keep her head above water while in a blustering thunderstorm.

“What happened, Rita?” Nick asked, concerned.

“Have you heard from Joshua recently?” Rita asked back. She let go of the girl’s hand, who cuddled up next to her mother in the booth.

Nick blinked. “Joshua?” What could this have to do with his brother?

“Matthew is getting deployed,” she answered flatly. “I got word an hour ago.”

Nick tried to reason about this. Matthew and Joshua were on separate sides of the country and in different ranks. Joshua still had to complete AIT, so that guaranteed he would be staying put for a while. However, once he was fully trained, he could be in the same situation as Matthew at any given time. Nick’s brother was already far enough away in California. How could he get any farther from him?

“That could mean anything,” Nick tried to reassure her. “It isn’t always combat. Did they say where?”

Rita shot him a look. “Take a guess.” She sighed, and her eyes went to June. “I’m sorry, June, but right now I have to be with my family. I can watch Hannah tomorrow, I promise.”

June put on a brave face, nodding her head. “No, I understand. Thank you, Rita.” She handed her some money before she left. Afterwards, she kissed Hannah on the top of her head, rubbing her arm up and down, deep in thought. Then, her eyes slowly drifted to Nick, full of shame, with a bit of shyness. And without words, she told him, I know this isn’t what you asked for.

Oh, the right thing to do is never easy. Nick cleared his throat. “I’ll work.”

“No, Nick,” she shook her head hopelessly, “I just told you why you can’t.”

“June!” Peter, the other young waiter, whispered-shouted at her as he was clearing a nearby table. “I can’t cover your station all night!”

June whipped her head around and shouted, “Oh, shove it, Peter!” Then, looking back at Nick, she smiled at him sweetly. “Thanks for offering, though,” she said, and scooted out of the booth with Hannah. “I have to go talk to Fred.”

“Wait,” Nick stopped her. How was it that every time he was around her, common sense completely vanished from his brain? He could already sense the regret.

“I’ll see you around, Nick, okay?” June tried to make him feel better.

“Let me watch Hannah,” he blurted out. Oh, now he’s really done it.

She let out a surprised gasp, her eyes blinking several times. “Wh-what?”

Yeah, Nick, you better explain this one. His hands fidgeted in his lap while he thought of the right words to say. He breathed in deeply. “We can be right here all night, where you can see. That way, you don’t have to worry about some stranger being with your daughter.”

She struggled not to smile. “You’re not some stranger.”

With this, blood rushed to his cheeks, and his stomach flipped. Just a few days ago, neither one of them knew the other existed. He didn’t know whether to curse or thank his big, stupid mouth. But perhaps it wasn’t his mouth doing the talking, but his heart.

“Please don’t talk to Fred,” Nick quietly requested.

June looked into his eyes for a few seconds, understanding his concern, and nodded. She knelt to her daughter. “Hannah, this is my friend, Nick. Can you say ‘hi’?”

The little girl was rocking on the heels of her feet, unable to stand still. But she flashed her adorable smile at him. “Hi, Nick!”

Nick said hello back. He wasn’t unfamiliar with children by any means. After driving elementary students around town for the past three years, he had a few tricks up his sleeve on how to talk to them and calm them down. The kids affectionately called him “Mr. Nick,” and he tried to play their favorite songs on the loudspeaker. All it took was some listening and compassion. Looking after Hannah shouldn’t be any different.

“Nick will be with you while I work, okay?” June told her. “But if you need anything, I’ll be right here. It’ll just be for a few hours.”

Hannah nodded and climbed back into the booth, kicking her little legs in the air.

“Have you eaten yet?” Nick asked her.

She nodded. “Chicken nuggets.”

“Let’s have some ice cream then,” he said excitedly, looking toward June for a glimpse of her reaction.

Hannah danced in her seat. “Yeah!”

June’s jaw nearly dropped. “Wow.”

“Let’s have…two sundaes with extra hot fudge and extra rainbow sprinkles," Nick ordered, knowing full well this was entirely against June’s wishes. She responded by narrowing her eyes at him and twisting her mouth.

“Yes!” Hannah raised her arms, smiling widely.

“Look at that,” Nick said to June. “How could you resist?”

June merely shook her head, writing down in her notebook. “Alright, two sundaes, coming right up.” Then, she leaned over, placed a hand on his shoulder, and kissed his cheek, whispering, “Thank you.”

Nick simply nodded, trying not to let his chest explode. Warmth spread to his face and chest, and all the air escaped from his lungs, leaving him breathless. He certainly was not expecting to gain anything from this. Usually, his favors went unappreciated.

While they waited for their extra special ice cream, Nick grabbed some coloring sheets and crayons from underneath the bar. They normally gave these to obnoxious children as a passive-aggressive way to warn the parents to manage their kids properly. It only worked half the time. He handed them to Hannah, who received them with joy. He also took some pocket change to the jukebox and attempted to find a song she would like: selection K3. I used to think maybe you loved me, now, baby, I’m sure.

Once the sundaes were delightfully devoured and Hannah’s face was an absolute mess, and Nick’s blood sugar was through the roof thanks to the stack of pancakes he had earlier, they resorted to coloring. June barely had to check in on them, and it was a good thing considering how busy Friday nights generally were. June will be proven correct once she counts all her tip money tonight. Hannah was a great kid. June and her husband had raised her well, with her knowing her manners and making sure not to scribble on the table. Nick tried to keep up a conversation with her about her favorite TV shows or movies, what she enjoyed doing, and how she was liking Rosedale so far. He never dared to ask about school. He hated being asked that during summer vacation.

“H-A-N-N-A-H,” Nick wrote down on the back side of a coloring sheet. “That’s your name. It’s a palindrome.”

Hannah blinked at him.

“You know, a palindrome,” he repeated helplessly. “The same forward and backward?” He shook his head. Why was he explaining trivia grammar to a four-year-old? What’s next? Oxymorons? Oxford commas? Auxiliary verbs?

Hannah took up a purple crayon, attempting to copy what Nick wrote. “H…A…N…N…A…H…” She did this slowly and carefully, sticking her little tongue out in concentration.

“That’s right,” Nick praised the squiggly lines on the paper. “Here’s my name, N-I-C-K.”

This took a few tries, considering his name had four different letters instead of the same three like hers. But she did get it, writing it an additional three times for good measure.

“Do you know your mom’s name?” Nick asked.

She nodded. “June!”

“And how do you spell that?”

“J-O-O-N!”

Nick held back a laugh. “No, let’s try again.” He took a green crayon and wrote, “J-U-N-E.”

“J…U…N…E…” she wrote, her eyebrows furrowing. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! It’s June, like the month.”

“I was born in May.”

“My birthday is in September, but I won’t make you write that.” As she continued to practice her JUNEs, HANNAHs, and NICKs, her penmanship moderately improved, and she was writing freely. “What other name should you write?” Nick wondered out loud.

She tapped her crayon on the paper, thinking. “Luke,” she said quietly.

Nick paused for a moment, figuring out where this name came from. He glanced at June, who was busy wiping down tables on the other side of the diner. Luke. Was this the husband? By the way Hannah was acting, perhaps it was. This was her first time being quiet all night. He felt so selfish for wanting to take June’s time away from her, just to see a stupid little movie. And then do what? Make out afterwards? How shallow of him. This was a grieving, broken family who needed each other now more than ever. Oh, he wished he had known earlier.

“L-U-K-E,” Nick spelled aloud, writing it down for her.

Hannah picked a red crayon for this name, taking her time with the lines of each letter.

“Well, who’s this little one?” Frederick cast his dark shadow at their table. He had his eyes on Hannah, attempting to smile.

The muscles in Nick’s body tensed as he watched him. June was taking down some orders in her notepad, but she briefly noticed them, giving Nick another silent message with her eyes. He quickly weighed his options and rose from the table. His body faced Fred’s, chin up, shoulders back, eyes focused, and jaw clenched. Nick was surely shorter than him, but this had nothing to do with size.

“Frederick!” Margaret’s voice shouted from the entrance. She was wearing a yellow matching skirt suit this time, her white hair fluffed like a cloud around her head. “I was hoping to have a word with you,” she said as she shuffled her way over to them. Margaret, visiting for two days in a row? This must be serious.

Fred continued to stare Nick down. He shifted the toothpick in his mouth, tilted his head, and firmly warned, “Be careful, son.” With this, he finally turned to greet Margaret, and they proceeded into the office.

“What was that about?” June came up beside Nick, eyes in the direction where they had gone.

Did Frederick just threaten him? Over the years, he had told him many twisted, concerning things, but not like this. No. There was almost a possessiveness about his words and the demeanor behind them; something more sinister was going on. Nick could feel it. But this was in Margaret’s hands now, and if anyone could squash him like the dung beetle he was, it would be her. She was not to be underestimated.

“I think he’s about to get fired,” Nick answered, raising his eyebrows.

She turned to him. “No, I mean what did he say to you?”

Nick shrugged casually, trying not to let it bother him. “Look,” he showed her Hannah’s scribblings, “I’m teaching her how to write.”

June’s face beamed, smiling widely. “Oh, good job, Hannah!”

“Thank you, Mommy,” Hannah replied, continuing with her coloring.

Nick caught June staring at him. He blushed, asking, “What?”

“Hmmm?” She blinked a few times, tucking some hair behind her ear and gathering their empty cups. “It’s almost time to close up.”

Nine o’clock came and went, with Frederick and Margaret’s conversation lasting until closing. Nick tried to read their faces as they left the office, but they revealed very little. He’ll have to hear about this later from his mother, then. Nick took Hannah outside to catch fireflies while they waited for June. He had forgotten how much fun it was, especially with a full moon on a night like this. The crickets chirped about, and a faraway train whistle could be heard in the darkness.

As soon as they exited the diner, Frederick flicked on his lighter and lit up, exhaling the nauseating smoke within seconds. It floated straight into Nick’s face. “Thanks for covering for me last night,” he told him as they watched June and Hannah among the glowing fireflies.

Nick’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open slightly. Fred sounded much like a child after his mother scolded him for not expressing his gratitude. Margaret must have put him up to this. He had to smile at such a thought. “You’re welcome, Fred,” Nick replied. Then, just to be nice, considering the circumstances, he added, “You know, I heard they need a manager for that new sports bar they’re building downtown.” He shrugged. “Worth a shot.” Oh, he couldn’t wait to never see him again.

Fred took in a long drag of his cigarette and looked at him smugly. “I already have a job, Nick.” He ran his fingers through his unwashed hair. “Tell me, is that June’s little girl?”

Nick’s face fell, and he remained silent. So it was only a warning. Frederick was getting away with only a warning. In the meantime, he’ll only become more clever with his behavior, no doubt. How could Margaret be so shortsighted? What did he say to her to get this result? A slap on the wrist, a minute in the corner. It made his blood boil. He’ll definitely be having that discussion with his mother later.

“Goodbye, Fred,” Nick settled on, narrowing his eyes, and left him be. He walked up to June, who was on the far side of the dark parking lot. The soft moonlight shone right upon her, so ethereally that he had to look away.

“I remember doing this as a kid,” June joyfully reminisced. They watched Hannah scamper around in the shadows, leaping in the air, and clasping her hands in hopes of a successful catch. After a few moments, she took some cash out of her apron and said sincerely, “Thanks for looking after Hannah.”

Nick declined the money, shaking his head. “Anytime, June.” He meant this.

She bit her lip, trying not to smile. “Better not have you around too often, though. You’ll spoil her to death.”

He let out a nervous laugh. “I’m not much of a babysitter.”

“No, you are. You’re wonderful.”

There goes the blood rushing to his cheeks again. He swallowed hard. He suddenly realized that he was going to be a lot more than a babysitter to Hannah if this were ever to get serious between them. His mind had never ventured into that territory before. It seemed so foreign, immense, and terrifying. He couldn’t possibly be a father. He still had so much work left to do on himself first. Would he ever be ready? But also, did it matter? Standing there beside June, watching Hannah, his heart told him the answer. And it scared him.

“What’s wrong?” June questioned him, a crease in her brow.

Nick rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to breathe normally. “Nothing,” he lied. “Have a good night, June. I’ll see you later.”

As he was walking away, she complained, “You’re really not giving me your phone number?”

Nick raised an eyebrow. He was surprised that this still bothered her. “No, not before the first date,” he repeated from earlier. He almost hoped this annoyed her. It would only be fair.

She twisted her mouth, thinking. “Not even as friends?”

Was being “just friends” with June even possible? Hardly. Not with the dreams he’s been having. Could it be the same for her, too? Could she be satisfied with only a friendship? Try harder, she nearly commanded him last night. Alright, he will. He walked back over to her, close enough so the tips of their shoes were touching. Then, he brought a hand up to her chin, lifting her face so it was merely inches away from his.

“Is that what you want?” he whispered.

She swallowed hard, her half-lidded eyes fixed on his lips. “The Rosebud?”

“I thought you said this wasn’t going to work out.”

She smirked. “We’ll come up with something, I’m sure.”

He let go of her chin before he was tempted any longer to kiss her, thus breaking her rule. All this back and forth between them was making him dizzy. He stepped back and breathed a little. “Give it the weekend to think.”

She bit her lip, keeping her smoldering eyes on him. “Oh, I will.”

And with this, he either wanted to set himself on fire or take a cold shower. In the end, it still wouldn’t make a difference. He was doomed from the start.

Chapter Text

Nick rinsed the evening dishes under the warm water and set them on the drying rack. He typically ate only breakfast at Margaret’s on the weekends, skipping out on the Sautéed Saturdays and opting for his own dinner special of simple spaghetti. He wasn’t as skilled a cook as his mother (no one was), but he managed to keep himself alive well enough. The staticky kitchen radio played on, a Journey song ripping through the speakers. If he ever hurts you, true love won’t desert you.

In the background, pounding could be heard at his door downstairs. Nick checked the digital stove clock: nine-thirty. With a yawn and a stretch, he dried his hands, turned off the radio, and grabbed his keys from the small kitchen table. At this time of night, it was probably Isaac wanting a ride home. That’s what normally happens when he fights with Eden, and she couldn’t care less about him for the following seventy-two hours. Nick shoved on his work boots and leisurely made his way down the stairs, thinking of ways Isaac could make amends with her. He could already hear him grumbling: “Why should I take your girl advice when you don’t even have one yourself?” And Nick would struggle with a response because the little punk had a point.

Once he opened the door, however, he knew there would be no such talk with Isaac. In the warm orange glow of the outdoor garage light, June stood, looking a little rough around the edges. Her curled hair was tousled, a couple of buttons were undone on her uniform dress, and her makeup was all smudged. She had been crying.

“Can I come in?” she asked him quietly, looking down at her white sneakers and lace-frilled socks.

Nick looked across the street at Margaret’s. Darkness engulfed the little diner, but he saw a lighter and the lit end of a cigarette. Frederick. He was leaning against the building as usual, taking a smoke by himself. Nick then turned his eyes to June, who almost seemed to be trembling. Something happened. Oh, how he wanted to cross that street and slug him to death. Just pound and pound that despicable face until it was blood-red, like the devil he was. Maybe even use that gun of his. But June was hurting, and she must have come here for a reason.

“Yeah,” he replied, stepping aside to let her through. He shot a glare towards Fred’s direction and locked the door behind them.

“I would go to one of the girls’ houses,” June began as she climbed the stairs up to the apartment, “but I don’t know where they live.”

Did this mean he was in second place? Oh, forget about it; he just wanted her to be okay again. “Oh, well, Alma lives on Chestnut and Janine on Cherry.” They landed at the top, and Nick stood close to her. “I can show you, if you’d like.”

“No, that’s okay," she wiped a tear off her smudgy cheek and glanced around the small, poorly decorated apartment. With a deep breath, she shook her head and put a hand on her forehead. “God, I shouldn’t even be here,” she muttered to herself and put her hand on the wooden railing to go down the stairs again.

“You can stay,” he nearly whispered behind her. “I don’t mind.”

She stopped midstep and turned around. The kitchen light caught the tears in her eyes, blurring those beautiful blues. After hesitating for a few seconds, she nodded defeatedly and went back up again.

Seeing this nearly broke his heart. Oh, June. He removed his boots and kicked them to the side. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

The bathroom was straight ahead, past the kitchen. Nick grabbed a washcloth from the hallway closet and turned on the light, with June following.

“Oh, wow,” June gasped as she gazed at her pitiful reflection in the mirror, a few more tears falling.

Nick wet the washcloth with some warm water from the sink. He paused for a moment, the water dripping on his socked feet. They were so close now, as they had to be, considering the size of the tiny bathroom. Was this okay? Slowly, he raised his hand and gently held her chin. She didn’t flinch; instead, he felt her relax a bit. In a circular motion, he wiped her face free from all the mascara stains, rubbed lipstick, and smeared eye shadow. In time, the woman he fell in love with emerged from the mess, revealing herself at last. Wait, love? Did he mean to think that?

He attempted to smooth down her hair, trying to put it back into place. He didn’t know what else to do. All he knew was that he wanted to kiss her, right here and right now, for as long as possible. He wished to make her forget whatever happened to her, to cast that awful memory into the blazing fire, never to be thought of again. He longed to make her feel loved and respected; that he would do anything for her, no matter the cost. But his conscience rightfully got the better of him. The last thing she probably wanted was to be kissed or even touched. The memory was too strong. And he still had to honor her rule.

Nick didn’t pressure her to ask what happened. She would tell him in time if he was worthy of the answer. Besides, he could figure it out well enough. The very first thing he would do tomorrow was find a way to speak with Margaret. Something happened in that meeting that caused her to be deceived. Frederick had his devious ways. And that needed to be changed.

June stared up at him with those big, blue eyes, her face communicating safety, trust, and comfort. Right then, she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her warm cheek into his chest, and breathed him in. Her muscles loosened more as she sighed against his beige t-shirt. He embraced her back, his fingers running up and down her back soothingly, catching her faint perfume. There were no words. They weren’t necessary. Nick could only hear his ticking clock, the slow drip from the tub, and the crickets from outside.

“I lied to you,” she suddenly confessed, her words muffled in his chest.

Nick stopped his finger motions and eased his embrace, his heart skipping a beat. “What?”

She took a step back from him. “I’m sorry.”

Nick furrowed his brow. “What is this about? Hannah? I don’t—”

“Luke. My husband.” She looked at him seriously. “The reason I left Massachusetts.”

Whatever she was about to drop on him could not possibly be done in that small bathroom. The walls were closing in, and the air was getting too hot to think properly. So he moved out into the living room, with June following. He turned the lamp on beside his reading chair, letting its warm light illuminate the room. Then, he sat on the couch, which faced the window and the waning moonlight. June sat on the other end, tucking her legs up and splaying her petticoat skirt around her.

“You shouldn’t lie about cancer,” Nick sternly told her.

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. He still died a horrible death.”

Nick softened his eyes. “What happened?”

She paused before answering, biting her lip. “Have you ever been married?”

“No.”

“Cheated on?”

“Everything I’ve done so far has been casual,” he shrugged.

She nodded her head. “Okay.”

He let her answer settle in the silence before it finally hit him. “Someone killed him?” Was it her? He carefully watched her movements, his muscles tensing up and his head spiraling. This wasn’t possible.

“Yes,” she replied, almost inaudibly. There was pain behind this answer.

He swallowed. “Who?”

“Luke was cheating on his wife with me,” June sighed, her words falling heavily in the air. She kept her eyes on her lap, too ashamed to look at him. “For two years. I begged him over and over again to get a divorce, but he didn’t until I got pregnant. Annie, the wife, was furious.”

Nick widened his eyes. “Annie killed him?” He brought his knees up to his chest, and he wrapped his arms around his legs. He figured what June was about to say would probably be the most interesting piece of news he’s heard in a while. In Rosedale, it was usually missing dogs, stolen goods from Putnam’s Grocery, or bored kids vandalizing the park again. But murder? Infidelity? Running away? He couldn’t think of one story from The Dale’s newspaper in all his life to compare this to.

“Yeah, she did,” she breathed. She readjusted her body on the couch, stretching out her legs on the cushions, nearly touching Nick’s feet. “When they finally divorced, we moved around, trying to get away from her. But one day she found us, and she shot him right in the living room, in front of Hannah and me. She was accusing him of all sorts of things. I didn’t know what to believe. She almost took Hannah, actually.” She swallowed. “That was six weeks ago.”

Nick could see the fear in her eyes, the flashes of the memory haunting her. “Is that why you left? To protect Hannah?”

“They haven’t found Annie yet. But since we are key witnesses, the police advised that we should leave, find a faraway town, live low for a while, and not draw too much attention to ourselves. They gave me money to travel and are covering the cost of my apartment and groceries.” She folded her arms with a sigh. “Now all I have to do is wait.”

Nick thought about this. “Janine said you talk to Sheriff Wharton sometimes.”

She nodded. “The deal is that the police have to know where I am at all times in case Annie finds out. She’s made it very clear she wants us dead, too. So they basically control my life now. There are a few leads, but nothing promising.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned.

“It’s so lonely, Nick.” She bit her lip, eyes filled with sadness. “I miss my mom, my best friend, Moira…you’re all I have here.” Drying her eyes, she added, “I just wish none of it ever happened.”

Nick didn’t say anything for a while. Here, he thought June No-last-name came into his life out of the blue. Instead, she was witness to one of the worst crimes imaginable and had to be protected at great lengths. Could he be putting her in danger by just talking to her? Would he be the cause if she left one day without a trace? He didn’t know how it all worked. But he believed it would be difficult to be told who you are, who to talk to, who not to talk to, where to go, where not to go, what to say, what not to say, or not know when everything would be normal again. Would she return to Boston when this was over? Work a boring office job? Forget about this place? Forget about him?

“What are you gonna do?” he asked her quietly.

She smoothed out her skirt, considering her words. “As soon as I raise enough money, I’m going to the Lakes.” She looked directly at him. “And I’m not saying a single word to Wharton about it.”

“No, it’s too dangerous,” Nick shook his head.

“Why is it that I have to give up my freedom, too?” she countered, furrowing her brow. “This isn’t a life, Nick. I’m tired of living in fear all the time because of what my husband did. God, if only he had broken it off in the beginning…” She wiped a tear away.

“You just said Annie wants to kill you and Hannah,” he argued back. “That seems pretty serious.”

She glared at him. “I’d like to see you live your life with the police breathing down your neck, watching your every move.”

Nick lowered his eyes, thinking. “You can’t go without permission.” He stated this slowly, trying to make sense of it. This was no life for her at all, protected status or not. And who was he to deny her freedom?

“Yeah, and even if they do allow it, I’ll probably have some policeman following me around.” She rolled her eyes.

I wish I could take you to them, he remembered telling her Thursday night. But did she want him to? And was he ready for something like that? He looked at her sincerely. “Well, I think it’ll be very brave if that’s what you end up doing.”

She gave him a small smile. “Would you protect me?”

Nick’s heart nearly stopped at such a request. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I thought you didn’t want some man following you around.”

She playfully kicked him in the shin. “You’re not ‘some man.’ You’re Nick.”

Blood rushed to his cheeks. What was that supposed to mean? You're not some stranger, she had also told him last night. What was he then to her? He shook his head. “You can protect yourself, I know you can.”

“My words can only go so far, Nick.” She looked at him sadly. “And they're not as strong as bullets.”

Nick’s heart pulled at those despondent words and told him what he ought to do. He effortlessly obeyed, rising from the couch and going over to the tall oak bookshelf on the side of the room. From the very top shelf, he took down a small, wooden, locked box. Underneath a snow globe his mother gave him for Christmas one year was the key. He took the items over to the couch and carefully set them on the coffee table. June turned to face it, sitting close to him. Nick took the small key and unlocked the box. Inside was his rarely used nine-millimeter handgun.

“Do you know how?” Nick asked her quietly.

June’s mouth parted, and she slowly reached out her hand to touch the weapon. “No.”

“I can teach you.” Oh, now what was he doing?

She looked at him with wonder. “Really?”

Nick held her eyes and nearly whispered, “I can’t let something bad happen to you.”

Even if that meant leaving him behind and breaking his heart, Nick would still help her. He wouldn’t risk letting her be in danger without knowing how to defend herself and Hannah properly. He wanted them free just as much as June did. It seemed like she was suffering more from the crimes than the actual criminal—and that wasn’t fair. If June truly desired to go rogue, he would have to make sure she was prepared for whatever might happen. He almost couldn’t believe this. What was it about her that already made him this loyal to her?

“What do you need a gun for?” she asked him, picking up the gun and noticing the weight in her hands. “Nothing happens here, as far as I can tell.”

“I don’t really use it,” he admitted. “I used to go hunting with my dad, which is my extent of ever really shooting one. But my boss downstairs is too cheap for a burglar alarm, so he figured I was the next best thing.” He shrugged.

“Yeah?” She raised an eyebrow. “So, have you caught any hard criminals with this thing yet?” She held the gun up, pretending to aim.

“No,” he scoffed, lowering her arms and taking the gun into his hands. It wasn’t loaded, but it still wasn’t a toy. He carefully placed it back into the wooden box. “Just some ornery raccoons.”

She sat back and sighed. “When should we practice?”

Nick furrowed his brow. “Do you really want to do this?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I want my life back.”

“Okay,” he replied, thinking. “How does Monday sound?”

She bit her lip. “What? Is it illegal to shoot guns here on Sundays?”

Heat rushed to his cheeks again. So, she wanted to see him even sooner. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to recover from this revelation. “Um, no, it’s just bad luck.”

She smiled, tilting her head. She watched him for a moment with those wandering blue eyes. “Have you given us much thought?”

Us? Oh, it was like she slammed him right in the stomach, forcing all the air out of his lungs. He already knew his answer, but he wasn't sure he was ready to tell. The guards around his vulnerable heart were not willing to give in yet. He cleared his throat and said, “I thought we agreed to give it the weekend. We still have tomorrow.”

She crossed her legs, twisting a lock of hair in her fingers. “Well, I’ve thought about it.”

And what did you think about? he so badly wanted to ask. He swallowed hard. “Y-yeah?”

“Does target practice count as a date?”

He could help but chuckle. “I think we’ve strayed too far from The Rosebud.”

“Well?” she asked firmly.

He sat up straighter. “I could pick you up, if you’d like. I know a place.”

She gave him an approving smile. “Good. Do you know where Rita lives?”

He thought for a moment, trying to remember the last time he picked up some of her glorious homemade bread. “Winslow Towers, right?”

“Yes, we’re neighbors. I’m in 311.”

He nodded. “I’ll come by after work then.”

Nick locked the gun back up, putting it where it belongs. Was he really going to do this? He barely even knew June, and tonight he learned that was on purpose. Now he was going to teach her self-defense? Because her husband’s killer is on the loose? It seemed ridiculous, even made up. He almost preferred the cancer story. But this was her truth. And she was what his poor heart had chosen. Here she was, sitting on his couch, when just days prior, he was merely dreaming about her. Why him? What made him more trustworthy than anyone else? Everything now felt much more complicated, yet also much more real and exciting.

“Thank you for telling me all this,” Nick told her sincerely.

“I’m sorry if I rubbed you the wrong way,” she replied. “The whole thing makes it hard to get close to somebody.”

Oh, she rubbed him just fine. He blinked a few times, getting his mind back on track. “No, I understand. I meant, I’m sorta glad you didn’t go to Alma or Janine about this.”

She smirked. “Those two? I know everybody’s business, thanks to them.” She laughed. “No, I would have never told them.” She looked at him softly and smiled. “Only you.”

How he wished she would say that again. Only you. Only you. Only you. He’s never meant anything to anyone ever before. Then again, he wasn’t supposed to. He cleaned up people’s yards and drove kids to school for a living. He’s lived in the same small town all his life, with nothing to show for it but the four plain walls that surrounded him. What else could life offer? What could June possibly see in him? All this trust seems to be a big responsibility, and he hoped he wouldn’t let her down.

They kept eye contact for about a few years until Nick suddenly remembered the time. “You should probably get back to Hannah.”

“Oh,” she said, finally taking a breath, “I didn’t realize the time.”

“I’ll… I’ll walk you to your car, if you’d like,” he offered. Though he didn’t want her to leave, at least he would get one more small moment with her. How far away was Monday again?

“I’d like that,” she replied, rising off the couch.

As he opened his front door, he heard June curse under her breath. Following her eyes, Nick saw the disturbance across the street at Margaret’s. A sheriff cruiser was parked beside her Cadillac, lights off. Wharton was outside, flashlight in hand, looking around. Nick’s heart began to beat faster, and his muscles tensed as they made their way over.

“Sir?” June spoke up.

Wharton turned, his brown campaign hat casting a shadow on his eyes. “Oh, Ms. Osborne, I was in the neighborhood.” He observed Nick for a moment. “Noticed your car was still here long after closing.”

“Do I have a curfew?” she asked as calmly as she could.

“Well, no…” he answered. “Just a precaution.”

She nodded politely. “Thank you for your concern.”

“But just in case—”

“Have a good night, Sheriff,” she told him sweetly. “Drive safe.”

Wharton cleared his throat as he looked curiously at Nick again. Then, with a tip of his hat, he climbed back into his car, leaving them in peace.

June sighed heavily. “See what I mean?”

How did she do it? Not only did she have to put up with Frederick, but she also had Annie coming after her and Sheriff Wharton watching her every move. In addition, Luke’s grave site was still covered with fresh soil, and she had to raise Hannah all by herself. Her strength was admirable, enviable, imitable. It reminded him of his mother.

“I can talk to Margaret about what happened,” Nick offered suddenly. “If that’s okay?” He didn’t know the old woman’s address, let alone her phone number. But he knew he'd do whatever he could to find out. It was why June came to him tonight, after all.

She wrapped her arms around her body, leaning against her car. “He just came up on me in the staff room…” Her voice trembled. “And I just let it happen.”

Nick sighed. So it was true, then. “You can’t blame yourself for this. He’s your boss. What were you supposed to do?”

She shrugged. “Shoot him?” She gave him a sly smile.

“Oh, we’ll get there, I’m sure,” he smiled back. He then pointed to her license plate. “You’re not really being discreet driving around here with Massachusetts plates, you know.”

She groaned. “You tell that to the BMV.” She kicked a few loose stones with her white sneakers. “Everything runs slower than molasses here.”

Nick couldn’t help but grin. “Welcome to Midwest Bureaucracy.”

“It’s a miracle anything gets done at all.”

He looked up at the moon and stars and yawned. The crickets chirped on, and a dog’s barking echoed across the warm summer night air. “Goodnight, June. Tell Hannah I said hi.”

“She talked about you all the way home, you know.” She rolled her eyes.

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah, how you guys ate ice cream and learned how to write her name… I caught her practicing this morning.”

Nick couldn’t help but smile proudly. “Good.”

June stared up at him for a moment, pure admiration in her eyes. Then, she stood up straight, away from the car, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and neck, her fingers laced in his hair. She gently kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear, “Thank you.”

Nick’s heart ached. This is going to hurt so much when it’s over.

Chapter Text

Sundae Sundays were Daisy Mae’s only day off from the diner. Not because she was religious, but because she found the work to be, well, insulting. What cook with over thirty years of experience needs to be around, scooping ice cream all day? Besides, it gave Beth, her protégé, an opportunity to manage the kitchen, and for Daisy to finally relax, though nothing prevented her from preparing those daily specials in her mind.

As a result, Nick would visit his mother at her home on Sunday afternoons. She happily lived alone in the trailer park across town, away from her difficult husband, who was still at the house. They saw each other only three times a year: Thanksgiving, Christmas, and tax season. And they liked it that way. Why spend all that money to get a divorce when you could still reap the tax benefits? Nick only hoped he wouldn’t stay with someone if it came down to that.

“What are you thinking about?” Nick asked his mother, curious. They were on the shaded front porch: he was sitting on the stairs, and she was on the swing, shelling fresh walnuts for a pie. He could nearly smell the sweet, warm dessert already. Daisy Mae had grown quiet, which left Nick to talk to the tabby cat, who didn’t say much in return and only kept playing with his shoelaces.

“The diner,” she complained. “What else?”

Nick twisted his mouth, thinking. “What are you gonna do when you retire?”

“Retire?” she scoffed. “That place is my whole life. That's all I know. I started working there at seventeen, right after I had Joshua.” She threw more shells in the bucket and the nuts into a stainless steel bowl, clinking against the sides. “I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”

“Then what are you worried about?” He attempted to declaw the cat from his shoelaces again, but he got scratched instead. Oh, he should’ve let her be.

“What makes you think I’m worried?”

“Oh, you’re worried.”

“Am not!”

“Is it the sports bar that’s opening up downtown?”

“I’ve heard of no such thing.” This was a lie.

“Then what is it?” He searched her face to see if she would tell the truth.

She sighed exasperatedly. “Now you made it a big deal out of nothing!” She paused for a moment, then reluctantly admitted, “It’s about the menu.”

He was intrigued by this. “Hmm? Are you finally putting sushi on the menu?”

She threw a walnut at him, successfully hitting his shoulder. “Don’t get smart. You remember how bad an idea it was to add seafood to the mix.”

“I think tuna melts are all this town can handle,” he tried to hold back a laugh.

“Meatloaf Mondays,” she sighed. “I’m tired of it.”

“Oh, well, it only took you two years!” This rightfully earned him another walnut being pelted at him. “Ow!”

“What should we replace it with?”

Nick tried to think of foods starting with M. Melons and mushrooms came to mind, but he hated both. “I don’t know, mashed potatoes?”

She shot him a look. Better than another walnut; he’ll be getting bruises soon. “We’re not turning a side dish into an entrée, Nicholas. And do you want to be mashing all those potatoes?”

“I was just thinking!” He helplessly defended himself. “How about…” He gave it a few more minutes. “Daisy Mae Mondays?”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

He shrugged, nearly embarrassed for making the bold suggestion. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Why not give yourself the chance to make what you really want?”

“It’s not about me.” She went on shelling her walnuts, offering nothing more to her statement.

The cat allowed a few gentle pats from him as he thought. Roaring lawn mowers and children playing filled the silence. “There wouldn’t be a diner without you, you know.” He turned to look at her, and there was a small smile on her face as she focused on her task. “There’s outdated music, no credit card machine, the waiters dress like they’re stuck in the 1950s, it’s on the far side of town, surrounded by nothing…you think people actually like all that?”

“I have nothing to do with those choices; that’s all Margaret.”

“The point is that they come for you,” he assured her. “Daisy Mae Mondays will prove that.”

She considered this, although she still had a humble and stubborn spirit about her. She sighed, finally. “I’ll add it to the list, but no promises.”

“Speaking of Margaret,” he gave the tabby a scratch on the head, “is there any way I can speak with her?”

Daisy paused her nut cracking for a moment. “Is there trouble?”

Nick remembered the broken state June was in last night, trembling at his front door. He wondered, now, how she was doing, having no choice but to work with Frederick today. He hoped she would find the strength within her to fight back if he dared to try again. Finally, he looked at his mother, concern in her eyes. “It’s Fred, Mama, he won’t cut it out.”

Nonsense curses flew out of her mouth, fast and fiery. “What did he do this time?”

“I think he tried something with June last night,” he answered. “She came by my place, crying.”

Daisy continued her nut cracking, though with the force she was using, she was surely thinking of crushing something entirely different. “Only I have the direct line to Margaret. She doesn’t want a bunch of people calling her.”

“She came by again on Friday and talked with him, and he fooled her somehow. But I think she knows something. I saw with my own eyes how he is with June. He was doing this weird shoulder massage on her.”

“I thought I saw you come back to the diner,” she wiggled her eyebrows. “You seem to be getting close.”

Blood rushed to his cheeks, and he avoided her watchful eye. “It isn’t anything.”

“Not yet,” she replied. After a few seconds, she sighed. “I’ll give Margaret a call tonight. I have a few reports of my own about him, believe me.”

He folded his arms, enjoying the rare breeze coming through the nearby trees. “I want him gone.”

“You and me both,” she threw some more shells into the bucket. “We’ll need to find a new manager fast, then.”

“That’s fine, I’ll even be the manager,” he offered, his leg bouncing restlessly. “Whatever gets him to leave faster.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I care about her,” he told her sincerely. This was the first time he admitted it out loud. Suddenly, it felt true, real, and solid. He cares about her. And everything else will be built on this foundation: nothing less would suffice.

Daisy Mae looked up from her walnuts, seeing her son in a whole new way—a way she had never seen before. This was serious. “Okay. We’ll figure it out together. She’ll be fine. Especially with you.”

Nick saw the genuineness in her deep brown eyes. This was something she firmly believed in. This was how she saw him: strong, smart, and capable. Maybe he, too, could see himself in this way. It would be a start.

“Do you remember going to the lake?” he unexpectedly asked her. This was what he ended up thinking about in the middle of the night when he was deciding what to do about June. It didn’t help him sleep any better, but it did calm him down a bit.

She smirked. “The lake? What has you thinking about that place? You hated it.”

“Did not.”

This was a lie, of course. As long as their family could afford it, they visited Lake Erie for a few weeks in the summertime. This naturally stopped when Josh and Nick got older and moved out, and their parents could finally be honest with one another. These family “vacations” usually resulted in fighting, crying, and pretending. Being all cooped up for the long drive, mixed with the sweltering heat and his father’s attitude problems, made a recipe for disaster. Not only that, but they had to portray the “happy, perfect family” behavior in front of the wealthier vacationers who owned the lake houses, not just rented them. It was exhausting work. Many times, Nick wanted to be at home instead. But what was the point? The arguing would be there, too.

“You were a goth,” she plainly stated. “So moody about everything.”

Nick nearly laughed out loud. “You don’t even know what you’re saying!”

“Oh, yes, I do! You slept till one in the afternoon, and all you wanted to do was stay inside and read. We practically had to drag you out to the water!”

He distinctly remembered the nagging, then the begging, and ultimately the commanding. Maybe it was the typical teenage embarrassment of his family, or the slight satisfaction of being difficult for the sake of being difficult, or simply depression. It was probably the latter, if he were being honest. Now that he was older, he understood his irksome behavior and deeply regretted it. It was the handful of trips where his family wasn’t completely broken, and they were finally together with no school or work to attend to. He wished he had recognized the rarity of that, taking it all for granted. If only he had tried harder, cooperated, stayed positive, or helped out more, then perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad. He, too, was one of the reasons why those trips were so awful. But he was just a kid then. And he wouldn’t have known.

“I think I want to go back,” he confessed.

“Have you lost your mind?” Daisy exclaimed, throwing more shells into the bucket.

Nick knew he had lost his mind days ago, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to go back. He was changing day by day now; he could feel it. Was this him breaking free from his shell, cracking open his cocoon, shedding away his dead skin? What a metamorphosis this has been. June had gotten under his flesh and infected him with life—a new, hopeful life. It was all out here waiting for him; all he had to do was bravely claim it as his own. He couldn’t bear imagining June slipping away and forgetting about him any longer. He had to do something.

He finally stood up from the stairs, stretching out his arms and yawning. “Save a piece of that pie for me, will you?”

“Leaving me already?”

“I’m pretty tired,” he replied, rubbing his eyes. “I didn’t get to bed till really late.”

She shot him a look. “Mmmhmmm, I bet you didn’t.”

He thought about the possible meaning of these words as he went back up on the porch to kiss her cheek. “Love you.”

She grabbed onto his arm as he was leaving. “I’m proud of you.”

He scoffed, blood rushing to his cheeks. “What?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You heard me.”

Was this about June and Fred? The menu? The Lake? He wasn’t certain, but maybe they all had something in common he was just now figuring out. He looked at her sincerely. “Isn’t that how you raised me?”

She cracked open another walnut. “You certainly didn’t get it from your father.”

No, he did not. It was all those years spent in that loud, busy, hot kitchen he had to thank. As a young child, he witnessed true leadership, integrity, and love in action. Not many people did in a place like that, but he wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

There wasn’t a sight like it in all the years Nick could remember at Margaret’s. Traffic, actual traffic, was coming through the street, all heading towards the little old diner. In fact, the parking lot was full, prompting customers to park anywhere else that had a vacant spot, including Guardian’s Landscaping. Nick quickly disregarded stopping by; he would only be in the way with how chaotic everything seemed to be. But it just didn’t make sense. Meatloaf Mondays never drew in a crowd this big.

After a quick shower and a change of clean clothes, Nick grabbed his handgun and a box of ammunition. There was plenty left to practice with. He made sure to visit Margaret’s yesterday for any empty cans or bottles as targets, and he accumulated quite a few. Then, he took his keys, headed out the door, and walked to his old Chevy truck. It was truthfully Joshua’s, but he clearly wasn’t using it.

He tuned the fuzzy radio as he waited to make the right turn to go towards downtown. A raspy voice sang out, She’ll tease you, she’ll unease you, all the better just to please you. He continued to drive by the unoccupied fast food chains and a couple of bistros and cafés that had only a few patrons. What was going on? This was too unusual for his comfort. He noticed the old marquee above The Rosebud, advertising showtimes for Jezebel. He might have heard of it before, but could not say anything about the plot. It was a nice thought, at least, of taking June there someday.

Nick slowed down his truck as his mind naturally went to her. She would be expecting an honest answer from him. Have you given us much thought? she boldly asked him last night. Only all the time, he could have replied. Oh, the weekend just wasn’t enough time for all of this. Was he prepared to carve out his bleeding heart and humbly offer it to her? This is all I have. She could either break it or embrace it, and to give someone that much control terrified him. But he promised himself he was going to do something, no matter the outcome.

Before he knew it, he pulled into Winslow Towers, recognizing June’s blue Cadillac. Remembering her apartment number, he anxiously approached the building's entrance.

“Hey, Nick!” There was Matthew Blue, in uniform, with his mother, Rita, on the sidewalk.

Nick wasn’t sure how to act with a soon-to-be-deployed soldier, so he awkwardly shook his hand. “It’s good to see you.”

“Oh, not for long,” he admitted. “I have to fly back out just as fast as I flew in.”

Nick nodded. “Rita told me.”

“How’s Joshua?”

With some hesitation, he replied, “He stopped writing home months ago.”

Matthew was cautious with his reaction, probably something they taught him in boot camp. “Oh, they’re keeping him busy, I see.”

“We were just heading out to Margaret’s.” Rita swiftly changed the subject.

Yeah, everyone was, apparently. Nick put on a smile, trying to forget about his older brother. “Alright, don’t give my mother too much of a hard time, then.”

Rita chuckled. “Aren’t you bringing June?”

No, we’ll be busy ripping bullets through soup cans and mayonnaise jars, pretending they’re a husband murderer, Rita, he thought. He cleared his throat. “No, I was gonna take her to The Rosebud.”

“Ooh, Jezebel, how scandalous,” she commented, raising her eyebrows. “Here, I’ll let you in.”

Nick tried to calm himself down on the brief elevator ride. June was going to give him a heart attack if he wasn’t careful. Thoughts raced through his mind as he slipped further and further into the unknown and all its various possibilities ahead of him. He supposed that’s what people mean when they say they’re falling for someone. But for him, it felt more like parachuting. He eventually exited the elevator and found her apartment quicker than he was prepared for.

Once June opened her door, they stared at each other silently as severe disappointment settled in. So. This was the way it was going to be forever, he couldn’t help but think. She was wearing her pink uniform dress, again, with her makeup halfway done, and long hair in that high ponytail. She had Hannah at her side, ready to go, as well.

“Nick!” the young girl exclaimed, smiling widely, clearly remembering him.

Nick tore his eyes off of June. “Hey, Hannah,” he greeted her, reciprocating the smile. “How are you?”

“N-I-C-K,” she recited proudly.

His mouth nearly fell open, surprised. “Good job!”

“They didn’t call you?” June questioned a bit impatiently.

“About what?” Nick put his attention back on her.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “Fred just told me I needed to come in immediately. Something big is happening. All hands on deck, sort of thing.”

Nick blinked a few times, trying to understand what all this commotion could be for. “What’s going on?”

She shrugged. “I thought you knew.”

He folded his arms, leaning against the door frame. “And I thought we were going out.”

“Look, I'm so, so sorry.” June put her hand on her forehead, taking in a deep breath. “You still owe me your phone number.”

Alright, maybe he was being a little mean about the phone number thing. The disappointment was beginning to become his own fault. She had nothing to apologize for. What was he so scared of? June having direct access to him? Having actual conversations instead of dream-like scenarios he created in his mind? This starting to have true meaning?

June sighed, readjusting the bag on her shoulder. “I gotta go; I’m late.”

“What about Hannah? I just saw Rita leave with her son.”

She averted her eyes. “Fred said she could stay in the staff room.”

Nick knew very well that Frederick’s “favors” always had strings attached to them. He did nothing out of the kindness of his heart, probably because he didn’t have one. He most certainly asked something from June in return. But not if Nick could prevent it.

“I’ll watch her.”

June’s eyes grew wide, and her mouth parted. “What?”

Nick looked down at her daughter, a small smile tugging at his lips. “What do you say, Hannah?”

The girl looked up at her mother, her brown eyes so big, so irresistible. “Please, Mommy? Please?”

June shook her head, fighting a battle against her inner thoughts. “I don’t mean to cause you any trouble, I really don’t. I… I’m…”

Nick could see the sheer conflict in her eyes, peace—true peace—a rare sight indeed. Oh, how he wished he could provide that for her, whether for just one night or for many years to come. “I don’t mind.”

She closed her eyes, calmly accepting this, surrendering to his kindness. Then, “Call the diner the moment something goes wrong, understand?”

Nick smiled. “Of course.”

“Bedtime is at eight. Don’t worry about a bath. She hasn’t eaten, but I’m sure you can find something in the kitchen.” June tried to go through an imaginary checklist in her mind. “Um…that’s all I can think of right now.”

Nick gently put a hand on her shoulder, reassuring her. “We’ll be fine, I promise. Right, Hannah?”

“Go, Mommy, go!” Hannah had her hands on June’s backside, nearly pushing her out the door.

“Okay, okay,” June giggled. She knelt, kissing her daughter sweetly. “Be good. I love you.” Then, she looked up at Nick. “Take care.”

He nodded. “We’ll talk later?”

She stood, smoothing down her pink swing skirt. Taking in a deep breath, she answered, “Tonight.” A smile crept on her lips as she turned on her heels.

Nick watched her go down the hallway towards the elevator. Once she was out of his sight, he closed the door and faced an expectant four-year-old. What on Earth was he going to do with her? He hoped this wouldn’t become a mistake. He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, thinking.

“Well, you hungry?” he asked her, figuring he should start with something basic.

“Starving!” she yelled.

“Yeah, okay,” he replied with a chuckle, finding his way to the small, dingy kitchen. Hannah followed him, watching his every move. He searched high and low in the stocked cupboards and the refrigerator, but nothing in particular stood out to him. He thought of his brilliant mother, wondering what she would make. Hell, what was she making now that was causing the whole town to flock over to Margaret’s? As he finally recognized that he didn’t know a single thing they would actually eat, he gave up.

Sighing defeatedly as he closed the refrigerator door for the third time, he looked over at Hannah. “Do you want pizza?”

She nodded so aggressively that he thought her little head was going to pop off.

“Problem solved,” he mumbled to himself.

Twenty minutes. That had to be a record. The delivery boy said so himself. A single cheese pizza was their only order in over an hour. Nick knew what this meant. A generous tip to make up for it. While eating their gooey and greasy slices, Nick and Hannah sat on the carpeted living room floor, a game of Candy Land before them. There was no television for their viewing pleasure, but that was alright. They had enough fun racing to the Candy Castle several times, meanwhile teaching Hannah about colors and turn-taking.

“Alright!” Nick gave Hannah a high-five after beating him, again. For some reason, he kept getting stuck in the sticky licorice. “I think you’re well on your way to making me go bankrupt in Monopoly next.”

“I have something for you,” she told him excitedly while getting up from the floor. “Wait here.”

Nick did as he was told. He folded up the game board, collected the cards, and put them back in their colorful box.

“Here,” Hannah shoved a piece of paper at him.

Nick took it from her small hands. It was a drawing of a person eating a big bowl of ice cream. He figured it was supposed to be of him. There were swirls of black crayon on top of the circular head and brown eyes, not to mention ridiculously large eyebrows. There was chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla ice cream in the bowl, each drawn in its respective colors, with hot fudge on top and rainbow sprinkles. “You drew me?” he asked, voice nearly cracking.

“Yeah, from the diner,” she answered and pointed at the picture. “There’s your ice cream.”

N-I-C-K was written on the back of the paper, so that he would know for sure. “Oh, thank you, Hannah.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiled at him. “I can draw more.”

He nodded. “Yeah, make sure you draw something for your mama.”

She stayed put, hesitating. “Nick?”

“Hmmm?” He admired the simple, yet heartwarming, drawing once again.

“Do you like my mommy?”

He looked at her, a bit surprised by the question. “Yeah, we’re friends.”

Hannah fidgeted with her hands a little longer before replying, “I saw you two kissing that night you took me outside.”

He couldn’t help but blush, shaking his head. “No, no, we weren’t—”

“It’s okay.”

Nick swallowed, staying silent. He’s never had a blessing from a four-year-old before.

“I’ll go make that picture,” Hannah said as she ran off to her room.

Nick carefully set her drawing on the coffee table, and he sank into the couch, contemplating all of this. Before he knew it, there they all were, together, on a lakeside beach, building sandcastles with Hannah and letting the gentle waves crash against their ankles. The evening sun painted vivid colors across the seemingly endless horizon, June’s soft skin absorbing every glowing ray. Later, there would be love, so much love, and a sky full of stars and a night filled with dreams, surely. And with her, beside him—

Repetitive pounding at the door drew him out of this fantasy. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, getting up from the couch with a heavy sigh. He was welcomed by Sheriff Wharton, his brown campaign hat in his hands and a rather confused look on his face.

“Nick, isn’t it?” the sheriff began.

Nick’s thoughts went to Hannah, hoping this wouldn’t take too long. He didn’t want this to upset her. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to speak with Ms. Osborne.”

Didn’t Janine tell him something about Mondays and the police when he was asking about June? This must be their weekly check-in. “She’s working.”

Wharton tried looking behind Nick, searching for June. “Really? Her schedule says she’s off today.”

Nick folded his arms. “Things got busy at the diner.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yes, right, I’ve sent one of our officers to direct traffic over there. Nearly forgot!”

Traffic directors? For Margaret’s? What the hell was going on? “Really?”

Wharton studied his face for a moment before asking, “Are you close with Ms. Osborne?”

The hair on the back of his neck stood up. How much does he know? Did June inform Wharton about him? Unlikely, based on their conversation from Saturday night. She made it seem he was the only one she trusted with her situation. And he certainly didn’t want to screw up her position here in Rosedale.

“She works with my mother,” Nick answered carefully.

The sheriff nodded. “A tight group you all seem to be.”

What town did he think he was in? “Yes, sir.”

He put his hat back on. “I'd better get going. Feel free to give a call if you need anything.”

Nick narrowed his eyes, letting him leave in silence. Once he closed the door, he checked his watch; the hour hand was closer to eight o’clock than he expected. He leisurely headed down the short hall to Hannah’s bedroom. She was playing with her Barbies, a G.I. Joe, a group of Smurf figurines, and some Legos. An intense plot was unfolding, and Nick was struggling to follow.

“Bang! Bang!” She was clutching a brunette Barbie doll, who was holding some Lego pieces. “He’s dead!” The unfortunate soul was the G.I. Joe, who was now thrashing on the carpet. Hannah tossed some red paper scraps on him to represent gushing blood. “Oh, not for long!” she said in a deep voice. G.I. Joe shot up in the air and started attacking Barbie for some reason? The Smurfs were in the background, cheering. “I’m too powerful to kill!” G.I. Joe said.

Nick cleared his throat in the doorway. “Hey.”

“Nick!” she exclaimed. She threw her dolls on the ground and went to her desk, grabbing a piece of paper. “Here’s my picture.”

He eagerly accepted the drawing from her. This time, she depicted herself. She drew her beaded braids, brown eyes, and her pink shirt with a butterfly. She had a giant yellow triangle at her mouth, representing a slice of cheese pizza. On the back, she wrote H-A-N-N-A-H. A flutter of joy filled his heart as he appreciated the artwork. “Can I show this to your mom?”

She nodded. “She always likes my drawings.”

“Alright, I will show her as soon as she gets home. But for now,” he rechecked his watch, “it’s time for bed.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh, yeah,” he replied. “Your mom said eight o’clock.”

“What she really meant was nine.”

Oh, great, how was he going to get out of this one? He’ll need a lot more practice if he is ever to become good at this. “Hannah,” he said a little firmly.

She looked up at him, pouting. Oh, that adorable little face really is hard to resist.

“Please?”

She grumbled in response, grabbing her pajamas from her bed.

“Do you need help brushing your teeth?” he asked, slightly hoping she didn’t. He hasn’t done any of this before.

“No, I got it,” she sighed.

With this, he left her alone, trusting she knew what to do. He went out to the living room, setting her drawing on the coffee table next to the other one. Then, he decided to read the titles of the books that June had put on a bookshelf. He hadn’t recognized many, some of them ranging from romance to historical fiction. Had she really read all these, or had she simply picked them up at a yard sale where she had also acquired the rest of this used, mismatched furniture? Maybe this wasn’t the greatest way to get to know her.

“I’m ready,” Hannah announced at the threshold of the living room. She was wearing a purple ruffled Care Bear nightgown, the collar a little wet, probably from brushing her teeth. At least that was evidence she had done something.

Nick wasn’t sure what she was waiting for. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, well, goodnight.”

“Aren’t you gonna read to me?”

Oh.

He saw it clearly now. This was all an illusion, a distraction. Do everything the exact same way, and maybe she won’t notice, he couldn’t help but think. Maybe she wouldn’t notice her father, the one who likely read to her nightly, had been murdered right before her very eyes. Routines. Children thrived on them. Nick understood this any time he was either slightly early or late with the school bus. They lived on predictability, and who could blame them? Change was scary. There was safety in knowing what should happen next. And now it was his turn to continue the show. There was nothing to be afraid of.

Hannah took him to her room. She had a little lamp beside her bed, illuminating the small room she had recently claimed as hers. He sat down beside her in the bed, and she gave him a red, hard-covered book. He opened it to where the bookmark was placed, nearly at the end.

“Make sure you do the voices,” Hannah whispered, cuddling up to his side.

Nick took in a deep breath, unsure of himself. His father never read to him, and Daisy always had late nights at Margaret’s, leaving him responsible for his own bedtime stories. But how hard could it be? He smoothed down the page and began. “Chapter nine: In Which Piglet Is Entirely Surrounded by Water. It rained and it rained and it rained. Piglet told himself that never in all his life, and he was goodness knows how old—three, was it, four?—never had he seen so much rain…”

Hannah remained awake for the whole chapter, wondering if and how poor Piglet would ever get rescued. She laughed and laughed while Nick struggled to “do the voices,” but he had a nice time all the same. He tenderly tucked her in, leaving the light on, and wished her goodnight. Then, he slumped on the couch, exhausted. Where was he again? Oh, yes.

—and a night full of dreams, surely. And with her, beside him in their cramped camping tent, all his worries, fears, and insecurities melted away, like the peppermint pieces they put in their hot chocolate. The mystical moonlight seeped through the canvas, and he bravely believed he could spend the remainder of the night gazing at her in wonder, silently willing her to stay for the rest of his life…

Chapter Text

“Hey, you,” June’s soft voice came through Nick’s pleasant dreams. She shook his shoulder, waking him up. Then, she placed her hand on his cheek, her thumb gently brushing against his skin. “Thanks for not burning the place down.”

Nick looked into those blue eyes, the warm living room lamp casting a glow over her. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her petticoated skirt like a pink cloud around her. Her hair was out of its tight ponytail, falling down her back in soft waves, and her face was bare and natural again. He blinked a few times, coming out of his sleep. He couldn’t remember ever closing his eyes. “And for keeping Hannah alive.”

She chuckled, moving her hand down to her lap. “Yeah, I just checked on her.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Sorry, I’m late. We had a bunch of people past nine-thirty.”

Nick rubbed his eyes, yawning. “How was your shift?”

“Your mother, Nick, is an absolute genius,” she praised, eyes full of amazement.

This didn’t come as a surprise to him at all. “Yeah? What did she do? Spike the meatloaf again?”

She shook her head. “No, no meatloaf. Stir-fry.”

Nick immediately sat up, leaning on his elbow. This couldn’t be. “She made her stir-fry?”

“Yes! Who knew a bunch of vegetables, chicken, and rice cooked in soy sauce could make a whole town go absolutely nuts, but she is the only woman who can.”

“That’s because it isn’t soy sauce,” he muttered. She did it. Daisy Mae actually did it—the nerve she has.

“Well, whatever it is, it kept the people coming. We had a line, Nick, a line! The poor dishwasher had to change his clothes twice because he got so soaked. We were running out of everything. It was pure chaos.”

Nick furrowed his brow. “You’re telling me not a single racist came in, claiming that ‘the communist Chinese’ was now ‘taking over’ their good ole country-fried steak American diner?”

June rolled her eyes. “There were a few complaints, but everyone stood up for Daisy. It was actually sort of beautiful.” She playfully punched him in the arm. “She’s furious with you, by the way.”

“What for?”

“Apparently, this whole thing was your idea, and you didn’t even bother to stop by. That’s why you never got a call. She was so mad.”

Daisy Mae Mondays. Nick lowered his eyes, feeling remorseful. “Margaret’s was too busy. I would’ve just been in the way.”

She smirked. “She said, and I quote, ‘I’ve never seen a man deteriorate so quickly in all my life.’”

He sat up all the way, folding his arms. “That’s what she said, huh?”

She nodded. “Said you are too ‘distracted’ to care about your ‘poor mother.’ I tried to explain that you were here, but I think she was getting mad at me, too.”

“Well,” Nick sighed, “I guess I owe her double tomorrow.” Perhaps this would give her the confidence to change Tuna Melt Tuesdays…

June leaned an elbow on her lap, holding her face in her hand, and gazed up at him. She smiled. “So, did Hannah behave herself?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“Yeah? What did you do?”

“We played Candy Land, which she won most of the time. I caught her playing some weird game with her dolls, and I read her bedtime story. Oh!” He raised his eyebrows, suddenly remembering. “She drew us some pictures.” He leaned over to grab Hannah’s drawings from the coffee table and handed them to June.

“Aw,” she cooed, smiling at all the colors, shapes, and squiggly lines. “Is this you?”

He blushed a little. “Yeah.”

“My little artist,” she commented proudly.

Nick scratched the back of his neck. There was one thing left to mention, prompting an awkward transition. He cleared his throat. “Uh, Sheriff Wharton came by, asking for you.”

June’s beaming smile faded, and she let Hannah’s pictures fall on the floor silently. “I know. He stopped at Margaret’s.”

He nodded, staying quiet.

“We didn’t have much time, but he did have some news.” She took a deep breath. “Annie came back to the house sometime last week. She stole some pictures and left a note. He wouldn’t tell me what it said, though.”

It was that bad then. This changes everything. Nick knitted his brow. “Don’t the police have somebody watching the house? How did she get in?”

She shrugged. “Can’t use up all the police resources, I guess. They installed cameras and a special alarm after the first couple of weeks while they focused on other leads.” She shook her head. “Annie’s not stupid, Nick. She knows what she’s doing.”

“And what are they doing about it?”

“The same they’ve always been doing,” she rolled her eyes.

Nick bit his lip, thinking. “Did Wharton tell you anything else?”

“I was too busy to talk much,” she furrowed her brow, “why? Did he say anything to you?”

He hesitated for a moment. “I don’t think he wants you getting close to anyone.”

June’s shoulders slumped, and she averted her gaze.

“It’s probably better if you don’t form attachments,” he added quietly, the cruel reality hitting him once again.

She closed her eyes, sighing tiredly. “I don’t think I can do any of this alone, Nick.”

This pulled achingly at his heart, nearly urging him to move forward and hold her. No. He wouldn’t have her go through this alone, no matter how strong he believed she was. Besides, was it possible to break their bond that seemed already fused by something stronger than mere attraction? Nick reached out his hand, caressing her face, and her eyes fixed on his, waiting for something.

“Have you eaten anything?” he asked her quietly.

She let out a small laugh. “You’re just like your mom. Food solves everything.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Come on,” he replied, rising from the couch.

June got up from the floor and followed Nick to the small kitchen, making sure to grab Hannah’s drawings. She stuck them lovingly on the fridge, underneath some ceramic magnets, beside a few others. Then, she noticed the square box on the stove. “You ordered pizza? I think you just became Hannah’s favorite person.”

Nick leaned against the counter, watching her take a cold slice from the greasy box. “I’m not much of a cook.”

With this, June laughed right out loud, the noise echoing off the walls.

“Shh!” Nick tried not to yell. “You know how hard it was to put Hannah to sleep?”

She shook her head, taking a bite. “Hannah’s a heavy sleeper. I’m sure she’d stay in dreamland if we were ever in a high-speed car chase.” After a few more chews, she said, “You know, Fred actually apologized to me today.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah, something about being overworked since Serena is on maternity leave?”

Wow. “Do you believe him?”

June filled a glass with water from the tap. After a sip, she replied, “He’s afraid of your mother, that’s what I believe. I saw her talking to him. It didn’t look good.”

“She’s the only one who has contact with Margaret. So whatever she said had to have come from the top.”

Taking another drink, she told him sincerely, “Thank you.”

June leaned against the counter opposite him, letting silence take up space. The single incandescent lightbulb above them made them appear rather unflattering, to say the least. The small kitchen had seen better days, with all the scuff marks, scratches, and stains. But this was where life had put them, as unglamorous as it was.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” June said in a low voice.

From behind him, Nick found one of Hannah’s crayons on the counter. And pushing away all his conflicting thoughts and emotions, he wrote his phone number on the lid of the cardboard pizza box. Then, he looked at June, who understood with relief.

She bit her lip. “Maybe we could try again?”

“You must really want this vacation,” he observed, folding his arms. Now they were going to talk.

She shook her head. “It isn’t a vacation. I want to go around and around until all this…pain just goes away. I don’t care how long it takes.”

He paused for a moment before saying, “I want to help you, I really do…”

“But?”

He didn’t want to say it, but he knew he had to. “Don’t you think what Sheriff Wharton told you tonight seemed pretty serious? About Annie?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and now he wants to see me twice a week.”

He looked at her sincerely. “Would you actually give up your protection, all of this, for the Lakes?”

“Tell me, Nick, wouldn’t you?” She gave him a challenging look. “We’re not so different, you know. Those meals at Margaret’s and your place above the garage? Would you give that up?” She let a few seconds pass, and she stepped closer to him. “What is it that you want? Is this it?” She spread her arms out and let them fall at her sides. “Yes, I would give it up—all of it. I’d risk it all to try to be happy again. It’s the only choice I’m left with.”

Choices. Was he one of those choices to her? Or was he simply something to fill up the loneliness? Would she use him to her own advantage and abandon him when she was done? There was always that possibility. His heart could only take so much tragedy. Why put in this much effort when she was going to leave him and never come back? Choices. He'd better make one fast before he loses himself entirely.

“I could always do what my brother did,” he suggested, “and join the military. Become useful for once.”

Her face changed, her challenge no longer on the table. She shook her head and said quietly, “No.”

“I’m still young enough,” he continued. “I’ll be whipped into shape in no time.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, stepping closer to him. Her brow was furrowed, and worry spread across her face. “How could you say that?”

“There’s always some war to fight.” He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “Best job security anyone could hope for.”

“No,” she repeated, nearly breathless. “You can’t. You can’t just…leave. What if…what if something happens to you?”

There was no thinking in this next part, only pure emotion and instinct. The silence after that question nearly swallowed them both, for there was more behind those words than June could ever allow herself to say. Their eyes locked, making up for what was left unspoken. Now, did she understand? Now, did she know what it felt like to be in love with her? Yes. Love. It was what had driven his heart this whole time, taking him onto an unknown, yet hopeful road. Oh, just where will he be going next?

Stepping forward, Nick closed the gap between them and kissed her, as deep as the Lakes themselves. Their lips moved against each other effortlessly, slow and rhythmically, fulfilling a need, a desire. He held her face, caressing her jaw, taking her in, open-mouthed and as uninhibited as ever, using his only chance. It could be his last. His heart beat fast, the air in his lungs running out, and heat spreading throughout his body. She felt so right; soft, warm skin against his own. He had held back for long enough, wondering how he ever controlled it. Once the rushing, forceful waters overtook a dam, there was no going back. His body and mind didn’t allow anything else. She was all-consuming. And he wanted nothing more than to drown, immersing himself in her, and becoming soaking, soaking wet.

She placed both hands firmly on his chest, warmth radiating from her palms, and with one final kiss, she pushed him away, breathing in the much-needed oxygen. “You can’t just kiss me like…like that.”

He stared down at her lips, catching his breath as well. He swallowed. “Like what?”

“Like…like I’m something you want. Like I’m desirable.”

He was trying really hard to listen to her, forcing his mind back to before this all started. “You asked me what I wanted.” His words were nearly slurring, running into each other, as if he were too intoxicated to think straight.

“I’m no one to want,” she cried, backing herself into the counter. “Can’t you see that? I’ve been trying to show you this whole time. I have a four-year-old. I am a widow. My life is a mess. No one wants that.” She wrapped her arms around her body, shielding herself from him.

Nick blinked several times, trying to wake from the stupor she cast on him. I’m no one to see. I’m no one to want. Oh, but she was everything. His heart broke knowing this was what she had been telling herself. “You think I’m any better?” he asked her. “Have you seen my life? I’m nothing.” He hesitated, looking at her, the truth ripping through him like the bullets they were supposed to be shooting. “I didn’t have dreams before you came along.”

She knitted her brow. “What dreams?”

It all seemed so silly now: The Rosebud, the Lakes, the shooting field. Places he guessed only existed in a far-off alternate reality where life and insecurities didn’t get in the way. He can’t make her love him. It wouldn’t be fair, and it wouldn’t be right. They deserved better than that. But she had to open herself up again to the vulnerability that is love. Choices. Could she choose such a thing? Could she risk the fragility, the tenderness?

“It doesn’t matter,” he achingly replied. With this, he turned to exit the kitchen, leaving his bleeding heart on the counter. He had told himself he was going to do something. Well, this was it. Could it be enough?

In a split second, she grabbed his hand, pulling him back. They fell into each other naturally, their lips finding their places again, crashing like the shore on a sandy beach. June had her hands in his hair, fingers swirling in the dark curls. Nick held her waist, pulling her closer, as they backed into the counter with each kiss. It was a good thing, too, because he almost felt like he couldn’t stand any longer. He was falling, falling, falling.

In time, June moved her hands lower, gathering her pink skirt and pushing down the bothersome petticoat from underneath. Nick heard the rustling it made as she carefully stepped out of it and kicked it across the tiled kitchen floor. In seconds, she grabbed his belt loops and pulled his hips against hers, the absence of the layered crinoline making much of a difference. Nick’s hands had wandered from her waist, appreciating the curve of her body.

“I want you to be honest with me,” she said breathlessly against his mouth. Her eyes were half-lidded, drunk already.

Nick kissed her once more, missing her so soon. “Hmmm?” he murmured.

“Have you ever slept with Janine and Alma?” She removed her hands from his body and kept them at her sides. She was serious.

Nick blinked a few times, not sure if he heard her right. “What?”

“Just tell me. You had to have done it at some point.”

He shook his head, taking a step back. “Asking that is like asking if I’ve slept with my sister.” With the look she gave him, this wasn’t a very satisfying answer. He sighed. “Janine once paid me twenty bucks to take her to the junior prom as revenge for her cheating boyfriend.” He shrugged. “They got back together, and I used the money to pay a senior to buy me my first pack of cigarettes. That’s it.”

“That’s it?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. I’m sure they would have told you by now if I did. You know how they are.”

She gave a half-smile. “Yeah, I guess.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “And you said everything else was casual?”

Just what was she getting at here? There certainly wasn’t any competition, if that’s what she was worried about. If faithfulness is what she wanted, then faithfulness was what she would get. Nick held her waist again, resting his forehead against hers. “You’re all there is, June.”

She bit her lip. “I’d like that.”

Nick placed his thumb on her chin, opening her mouth the same way he did when they were on her car underneath the moon and stars. This time, however, he was welcome, as far as he could presume. He understood now her kissing rule developed from her own self-doubt, but he was willing to love her for all that she was, for as long as she desired. It will be messy and imperfect, but still beautiful all the same; he wasn’t sure if he wanted it any other way.

He gazed into June’s pleading eyes as he took his time, and he brought her into his mouth once more. He could possibly do this for the rest of the night, kissing her like this, until their lips became numb and mouths and tongues grew lazy and tired. June started unbuttoning his shirt as fast as her impatient hands allowed. However, to her disappointment, this only led to another shirt underneath, which he regrets now. Deepening another kiss, she bunched up the white cotton t-shirt in her fists, drawing him closer, a sigh escaping from her lips.

It was clear now what she wanted. Understanding this, his lips began moving elsewhere: across her cheek, behind her ear, under her jaw, and down her neck. It was this sensitive skin he was being entrusted with, and he would fulfill that need skillfully and carefully. June’s breath wavered, hot and heavy. She was gripping his arm now as he took skin between his teeth. But it wasn’t enough. No. She then worked on her own buttons, shouldering the top half of her dress, and thus granted Nick to do whatever he wanted as long as it was exactly what she was thinking. His lips naturally felt their way down to her collarbone openly, as his hand boldly reached up to her chest and shoulder, digging his thumb underneath her bra strap, asking a silent question.

She eagerly answered this endearing plea, reaching behind her back and unhooking her bra. She lifted his head from her shoulder, connecting their lips once more as she peeled off the straps. The undergarment made quite an unusual noise as it fell onto the kitchen floor, prompting Nick to glance down at their feet.

“Holy—” he knelt, laughing. “June, you’re rich!” He started gathering all the folded-up cash, still warm from being pressed up against her body.

“I told you it was busy,” she said, covering up her bare chest with her arms, feeling shy all of a sudden. “And that’s just the money I didn’t share.” She knelt as well, pulling a few rare twenties and offering them to him.

“Save it for the Lakes,” he told her sincerely.

“I want you to come with me,” she blurted breathlessly.

Come with me. That was all he needed to hear; nothing more, nothing less. Come with me. This wasn’t temporary. That wasn’t a game. He wasn’t just a means to an end, a relief from brief solitude. Suddenly, there was a future where discovering the significance in all of this together was the whole point. She wasn’t letting go. No. She was holding on to him for dear life.

Nick leaned forward and kissed her again. He had no words to offer as a reply; they would only come up short and insufficient. “Tell me what you want, June,” he requested quietly, thinking about the rest of the night, and, in turn, the rest of his life. “I’ll stay or I’ll go home.”

She kept her eye on him, saying nothing for a minute. She then grabbed the back of her neck, pulling the skin a little. “Stay,” she answered, closing her eyes, the word coming off her lips like an earnest prayer. “Stay. I want you to stay.”

Nick stood back up, bringing her with him by the hand. He pulled her closer at the waist, and his hands roamed her smooth, bare back as he kissed her once, twice, and until he lost count again. Her hands traveled elsewhere as well, revealing that it was quite ridiculous and rather uncomfortable that they were still here in the kitchen. Knowing this, she took his hand and led him to her bedroom. She kept the light off, leaving the streetlamp outside the window to be their artificial moon. Nick couldn’t see much besides a dresser, a mattress, and some boxes remaining to be unpacked.

“Bed frames are hard to come by at yard sales,” she commented, acknowledging the mattress. “And even harder to bring through an apartment building.”

Nick was taking off his unbuttoned shirt and letting it fall on the floor. “I thought you’d buy a new one.”

“The world is dying, Nick,” she replied flatly, stepping out of the rest of her uniform, including those frilly socks. “Probably from all those wars you want to go off and get yourself killed in.”

“I said no such thing,” he argued weakly, working on his belt.

“I like you better when you’re telling the truth.” She sighed as she collapsed into the mattress. The white light from the window above shone down on her nearly naked body. She kept her peachy briefs on, perhaps giving Nick a job to do later.

Nick quickly kicked off his jeans and removed the white cotton t-shirt, hoping he could find them again in the morning. He then gradually lowered himself onto the mattress and held her close. They gazed into each other’s eyes for a long moment, with Nick brushing his thumb softly against her cheek. Here she was. Right there, in the flesh, wanting him, just like what he’s been dreaming about for the past week. He kissed her slowly and tenderly, becoming easily overwhelmed by her. Afterward, he opened his eyes, looking deep into the windows of her soul, and he knew he couldn’t do much of anything else. Not now, at least. He would respectfully take his time. Relaxing his muscles, he settled his head in the crook of her neck, sighing contentedly. Holding her here, like this, could be enough.

“Tell me your dreams,” she quietly repeated from earlier, supporting his head against her chest and running her fingers through his hair.

“No,” he simply said.

Her fingers paused. “Why not?”

“It’s no use,” he answered, after a few seconds of silence. “They’re the same as yours.

Chapter Text

Dawn’s early light slowly seeped into the room as the morning birds happily greeted each other outside. Nick was waking up, as his body naturally—and thankfully—did at this time. His eyes blinked open, and he tried to remember where he was. He was not home, that’s for sure. And that was a big problem. He checked his wristwatch. Five AM. Seemed about right. He struggled to turn over, his naked body aching everywhere, and found June sleeping on her side, her bare back facing him. He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t. He gazed at the hills and valleys of her body, the freckles, and the scars, the smooth, soft flesh, and the long blonde hair spread out on the pillow. It felt like only minutes ago that he was nearly worshiping that body, devoting himself entirely to her, giving in to every desire. And he was supposed to leave this? So much for “no romance.”

The only way he ever got up from that mattress was in the hope of another time soon to follow. This couldn’t possibly have been a one-time deal. Not the way she looked at him, not the way she sounded, not the way she responded to every touch he made. Stay. I want you to stay, she told him last night. This wasn’t over. There will be more to come. They will see each other again. And that’s what will have to get him through the day. Searching through the dim morning light, he discovered his clothes on the floor. First, his boxers, jeans, and belt.

“You’re leaving?” June whispered, voice a little hoarse. He knew why.

Nick glanced up from buckling his belt. “Yeah, I work days and you work nights. We should have thought about this before getting together.”

June found his plaid buttoned shirt and brought it up to her lap. “We’re together?”

He let out a soft chuckle. “Yes, you assured me several times last night.” He bent down and grabbed his white t-shirt, noticing June’s raised eyebrow. “I remember.”

“You could take the day off,” she suggested, putting her arms through his shirt and wrapping it around her body.

“Hey, give that back,” he requested after putting on his t-shirt.

“No,” she replied, giving him a sly smile.

He sighed. No point in wasting time arguing. “I promised you the Lakes, didn’t I?”

“You did?”

“We’re gonna have to fund it somehow,” he shrugged.

June stretched out her arms, yawning. “Then at least let me make you some coffee.”

He shook his head. “No, sorry. I’m already late as it is. I’ve timed my thirty-second commute perfectly.”

“Then make them wait.” She said this like a challenge, a dare. She stood up, buttoning the shirt a little. “If they leave without you, then I guess you mean nothing to them.”

“This isn’t about power, June, it’s only about the money.”

“Nope, it’s about priorities.” She grabbed his hand, leading him out of the bedroom. “Come on.”

They had left the light on in the kitchen last night, revealing all the clues of what had happened out in the open. Nick’s phone number was scribbled in crayon on the cold pizza box, June’s bothersome petticoat was across the tiled floor near the stove, and her bra, comically stuffed with cash, was right where they had abandoned it at their feet. They both smirked at such a sight, remembering. As the coffee was percolating, June gathered her undergarments and tip money and put them away.

“Ninety-seven bucks,” she confirmed when she returned from her room. “Less than I thought, but way better than usual.”

“How much do you think we’ll need?” Nick asked as he watched her grab two coffee mugs from the cupboard. We. It sounded right.

“Thousands,” she answered, like it was easy. She shrugged. “If your mother keeps this up, we’ll be there in no time, I’m sure. I want it to be nice. Luke never took me anywhere.”

Luke. The realization hit Nick like a punch in the gut. It was merely weeks ago that he was living his life with June and Hannah, a family with so much potential. And June was happy. Nick felt awful, sick even. He just made love to Luke’s wife, without any respect for the dead. Oh, this will come back on him; he was certain. How could he have been so inconsiderate? Selfish? Not enough time has elapsed to justify what he had done.

“You must have really loved him,” Nick remarked.

June got some hazelnut coffee creamer out of the refrigerator. “Oh, we had our issues.”

“Still, it isn’t right what happened to him. You were a family.”

June studied his face for a moment, her brow furrowing, reading what was on his mind. “What happened last night was my choice. I did it for me. I haven’t felt that way in a very long time. And I know you haven’t either.”

“I should have given you more time,” he tried to counter.

“My grief is not your responsibility, Nick,” she looked at him sincerely. “How I manage it is up to me to decide, okay? Last night, how you made me feel…” she dared not to finish that sentence.

But Nick knew. It was how he felt, too. It doesn’t take long to start believing the lies you tell yourself. Unlovable. Too complicated. Not enough. He had lived his life like this for far too many years. And here June is, flipping the script, changing the tune, rewriting the story. He meant something to her. Didn’t that matter? Would giving her more time for all of this even make a difference? The only thing it would have accomplished was prolonging their misery, surely.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted in the air, waking them up a little more. They both made their own cups in the silence. Nick tried to remember how June liked hers: half creamer, half coffee. He preferred his coffee more black, with a hint of sweetener to keep the bitterness at bay. June popped a few slices of bread in the toaster, yawning. Checking the time on his watch again, Nick knew he would be in for it today. But standing here, watching June—in his shirt, no less—made him forget about all of that. Priorities. That’s what she valued most.

Nick reached out and pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her. Oh, yes, he can do this now. “Thousands, you said?”

She smiled against his neck. “As much as it takes.”

He twisted a lock of her hair with his fingers, thinking. “We could get jobs at the gift shops, selling keychains with our names on them…”

“Yeah?” She looked up at him, smiling. “Pitch a tent at some campsite, go to sleep under the stars every single night…”

Nick shook his head, smirking. “No, not in a Michigan winter. We’d die.”

“We’d keep each other warm, I’m sure,” she said, biting her lip.

Hot blood rushed to his cheeks at the thought of that. Oh, will she always be driving him crazy? He figured that would be an awful lot of warming up to do, leaving their bodies basically useless for other causes. But were those other causes really necessary? He tilted his head. “Probably, but no proper showers or plumbing.”

“True,” she shrugged.

“And don’t forget about the gun,” he added.

“Oh, right,” her eyes drifted downward. “We still need to start on that.”

“Plus, Hannah would miss out on too much school. So we would have to go only in the summer.”

June lifted her head, looking at him. “Hannah?”

He let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, did you think we were gonna abandon her here?”

“You would want her to come with us?”

Nick furrowed his brow, confused. “Where else would she be?”

June let go of him and prepared a slice of buttered toast for herself. “I don’t think you know what you’re agreeing to.”

He took a sip of his warm coffee, watching her movements. “I think she would like it. All the sailboats and the seagulls—”

“I nearly killed her on the way here.” She took a bite of her toast. “She was so stubborn. As if I wasn’t dealing with enough as it was.”

“She’s a child, June,” Nick tried to tell her. “She’s dealing with the same thing you are.”

“Which is why I don’t understand why you would choose this.” She let this linger in the air for a moment. “I’m her mother. Of course, I would want her there. You know how hard it is to say goodbye to her every day? Especially after what happened? It would be easy for you to walk away from. Most men would.”

She wasn’t wrong. Commitment is usually one of the most common allergies found in men. Why tie yourself down when you could move about freely, doing whatever, whenever you want? The world was his for the taking. The casual bachelor life had grown on Nick, if he had to be honest, and he felt comfortable there. Could he leave it all behind for June and Hannah? Taking on their problems as his own? Providing the remedy? This familiar comfort would become his constricting trap if he weren’t careful.

“I would hope you knew me better than to believe I would do that,” Nick replied, drinking more of his coffee.

June stood frozen, mouth slightly parted. This had just become real to her, it seemed. It was no longer wishful thinking or pillow talk. Nick was right here in front of her, willing to make it all happen, loyally dedicated to the dream. Besides, what has Nick done in the past week that was easy? Hasn’t he proven himself enough?

“You’re gonna be late,” June told him, changing the subject and cleaning the toast crumbs off the counter.

Nick sighed, finishing his coffee. “You'd better take a good look at me now before they kill me for this.”

She smiled and walked up to him, embracing him once more. “Thank you.” She paused and then added, “We’ll talk later tonight, okay?” She kissed him sweetly. “Your place this time.”

Nick’s heart sped up at the mention of that. He was right, then. There will be more to come, always. “Yeah?”

“And if not,” she said, attempting to fix his tousled hair with her fingers, “then I’ll call you.” She smiled smugly at him.

Oh, right. He could never take that back now. But he believed he was better for it. He could imagine it now, all the late-night phone calls soon to come, listening to June talk, falling asleep to the sound of her soft voice. She would think him rude for not contributing much to the conversation, but as a man of few words, he’d make sure not to waste any. Besides, he communicated more efficiently with his face and body, which she knows very well now, and should make up for it at another time.

Nick held her close at the waist with one hand and lifted her chin with the other. His eyes flicked back and forth from her half-lidded eyes to her parted lips. He had to shake his head helplessly. Oh, no. He was in too deep already. And without thinking too much, he kissed her slowly and sincerely, understanding he’ll have to remember this to survive the rest of the day without her.

“You’re not making this any easier,” he sighed against her lips.

Her mouth curved upward, and her eyes were smoldering. “Good.”

“Nicholas!”

Nick’s ears became hot, and the hairs on the back of his neck raised instantly. It was his boss, shouting from the back office of the garage. He braced himself all day for this. Being an hour and a half late to work, he strove to offset the delay by doing all the heavy lifting, even working through his lunch. Given that his body was still sore from last night (evidently, he isn’t as young as he used to be) and all he had for breakfast was a cup of coffee and a piece of buttered toast, it was exhausting. However, he had to confess that the extra hour and a half with June was worth it. Next time, though, they’ll have to make a compromise. He’ll likely not last long if he has to do this again.

After closing the work van’s back door and saying his goodbyes to his coworkers, Nick cautiously approached the small office. “Yes, sir?” he said in the doorway. How Andrew ever knew where anything was in all that clutter was a mystery. Piles of paper, junk, and random tools were scattered everywhere in no particular rhyme or reason. The old boom box on top of the filing cabinet in the corner played quietly. Some folks are born made to wave the flag…

“Your mail got mixed in with the shop’s again,” he grunted, handing him an envelope.

Nick’s eyes grew wide at the return address.

“I think it’s from that brother of yours.”

Nick’s mind was racing. “It is.”

“I thought he was overseas.”

Nick tucked the precious envelope into his back jeans pocket. “No.”

His boss folded his hairy arms, leaning back in the desk chair that was held together by strips of duct tape. “About today…”

Nick straightened his posture, listening intently.

“If you ever pull that again, I will have to let you go.” He shrugged. “We’re now behind schedule, and you know how I feel about rushing things.”

Nick swallowed. “I understand.”

“What’s gotten into you, Nick?” he asked, his tone now more fatherly than authoritative. “I thought punctuality wouldn’t be an issue with you, considering…” he gestured towards the ceiling. “You’re late, distracted…”

“It was one time, Andrew. You know me.” Hadn’t he, too, been in love before, at least once? There was a wedding ring on his finger, after all.

He glared at him. “Don’t make it a habit.”

Nick nodded. “Thank you.”

“I’ll see you in the morning. Early.”

Right on schedule, Nick could smell the hot tuna already as he crossed the street, wafting in the summer air. Tuna Melt Tuesdays were still a thing; he took it. Nevertheless, the parking lot was full, although not as full as it was last night, but still busy enough. Dealing with old Andrew Pryce was nothing compared to having to deal with Daisy Mae. Perhaps the note from Joshua would smooth things over. Otherwise, he’ll probably have to make up for what he did one way or another. His mother was quite creative with her punishments.

“Hey, Mama,” Nick greeted his mother with his daily cheek kiss. He was mindful of his movements and words, trying to understand her mood.

“Your plate’s on the island,” she replied a little coldly, not glancing up from the hot stove. As usual, every burner was working overtime.

“Thank you,” he made sure to say, grabbing the warm plate. It was her now-famous stir-fry on a bed of white rice, with her special savory sauce glistening over the grilled vegetables and chicken. He took a bottle of water from the staff fridge and sat at his table, watching everyone make their magic.

“It’s from last night,” she commented over her shoulder, “so it probably doesn’t taste as good as it should.”

Regardless, he took his fork and eagerly dug in. The ravenous hunger in his stomach would devour just about anything right now—even a tuna melt. Oh, but it was perfect. The flavorful sauce complemented the plain rice and the smoky vegetables and chicken wonderfully, hitting just the right spot. Daisy Mae finished prepping one last plate before coming to sit at the table. She silently watched him eat with contentment. He was still her son, and she would always feed him, no matter how much he would disappoint her. This, was love.

“I’m sorry,” Nick apologized, swallowing another large bite. “The diner seemed too busy, and I had plans…”

She folded her arms, a sad look on her face. “You’re growing up, that’s all. My baby.”

Nick’s heart ached hearing her say that. He wished time would stop, granting them space to do and say all the things they never had the chance to. To her, he was still that little boy who did his school work in the staff room while she cooked all night. Sometimes he still felt that way, if he was being honest. Growing up meant watching her grow old, too. This disturbed him greatly, and he avoided thinking about it. It wasn’t time for that yet.

“No Meatloaf Mondays?” he asked, putting the conversation back on her.

“I thought about what you said and decided to put it to the test.” She sighed. “You were right.”

He tried to hold back a smile. “This could solve world peace.” He shoveled more stir-fry onto his fork and took another bite.

“You’re not mad?” She watched his face for any indication.

Nick furrowed his brow. “What do I have to be mad about?”

“I only make this for you, on your birthday. Now it’s for everyone.”

Nick took a sip of water, thinking. This was one of the meals he looked forward to every year, prepared specially for him, with a sauce that’s been in the family for more generations than anyone bothered to count. Even his father turned into a completely different person when he had a plate. It was nearly sacred. “Well,” he replied, “just don’t make it all the time, okay? Maybe you could make your dumplings next week?”

“We’ll see,” she adjusted her hair net. “I don’t want anybody getting mad. You know how these people can be.”

Nick stiffened his jaw, giving her a serious look. “That’s not your problem.”

After a few more bites of the heavenly stir-fry, the back door opened, and in rushed June, late as usual, leaving her wiff of roasted vanilla behind her. Another painful goodbye with Hannah, Nick presumed. He listened as she moved around in the staff room, the old punch clock’s metal gears marking her staff card, granting her another paid shift. Presently, she exited the room, smiling warmly at him. She had a full face of makeup, hair curled, and that pink dress uniform with the petticoat underneath. Nick tried desperately not to think about what happened to it last night. June was tying her apron as she walked past, but Daisy grabbed her arm.

“Now, I’ll say only one thing,” Daisy Mae warned, looking at both of them, making sure they were listening. “I’m too young to have any grandbabies.”

Nick nearly choked on his rice, prompting him to gulp some water and take a few breaths.

June did a small nod, failing to conceal her smirk, before running off. “Understood, Mae.”

“Andrew came here, banging on the door at six o’clock this morning, asking where you were,” Daisy informed him once June was out of the kitchen. “Nearly scared Beth and the others to death. You didn’t come home last night, did you?”

Oh, nothing can be done in this stupid little town without everybody knowing about it. Nick sighed, eating more of his stir-fry. “This is incredible, Mama.”

She rolled her eyes, throwing her hands in the air. “Love. What a mess!”

Nick suddenly remembered the envelope that was bent in his back pocket. He laid down his fork with a clink and reached for it. “I got something from Josh.”

“Oh?” Daisy perked up.

The back door opened again, and based on the stench alone, Nick could already determine it was Frederick. “Break time, Daisy Mae?” he grunted. He then glanced at her son. “Sure could have used your help last night, Nick.”

The life in Daisy Mae’s face faded, and her mouth formed a thin line, her eyes piercing into Fred’s. “Someone get Margaret,” she commanded from behind her shoulder at the kitchen staff.

Margaret? Nick’s heart started racing. Rarely has he seen his mother this assertive.

“Now, Daisy,” Fred spoke carefully. “I know I’m late. Last night was…challenging. Can’t we agree?”

“You shouldn’t even be here at all,” she retorted sharply, rising from her chair. “I told you last night you weren’t welcome anymore.”

The kitchen door swung open, Margaret passing through. She was wearing one of her usual skirt suits and a matching handbag, this time in managerial black, as if she were dressed for a funeral. Fred’s funeral. Her expression was the same as Daisy’s: stiff, serious, and seething. “Frederick!” she raised her voice, slowly approaching them.

Nick felt awkward, being caught in the middle, a mere bystander. He remained silent, witnessing such a rare event with the two most powerful women he knew. What exactly did his mother say to Fred last night?

“Oh, Margaret!” Frederick said, sounding relieved. “I believe there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“Understand this,” Margaret replied, opening up her handbag and pulling out a small revolver.

Nick’s eyes grew wide, and he sat frozen in place. His heart was pounding now, sweat forming on the back of his neck. So that’s what she kept in that purse. It bears repeating that Margaret was known for her surprises, and this was surely one of them.

The other kitchen staff noticed the gun, dropping their utensils, and holding their hands up. Some voiced their concerns, while others were too frightened to say anything. The dishwasher, on the other hand, kept on rinsing his plates, bopping his head to a song he was humming.

“What is this?” Frederick countered, his brow furrowed. He looked back and forth from Daisy to Margaret for an explanation.

“I know what you’ve done, Fred,” Margaret stated confidently, stepping closer to him, her hand firmly around the gun. “You deceived me.”

He shook his head, stepping back. “You have no idea of the pressures I’m under to keep this place open.”

“Really?” Daisy Mae questioned, putting her hands on her hips.

“I work myself down to the bone,” he continued, “and this is what I get in return?”

Nick’s leg was bouncing restlessly as he bit his lip hard, forcing himself to remain quiet. Oh, but Margaret and Daisy’s fuming flames caught fire to him, too, his blood boiling. He had to do something. “You assaulted June,” he said firmly, his eyes slowly meeting Fred’s. “And the others.”

“Shut up, Nick!” Frederick scrunched up his hideous face in contempt.

Daisy Mae slapped him so forcefully that Nick flinched, practically sensing his own cheek tingle and sting.

“It’s over,” Margaret told him, waving towards the back door. “Time to go.”

Frederick looked around him; everyone’s faces stared back. His mouth was slightly open, and disbelief and betrayal spread over him. “This place won’t last,” he shook his head. “Not without a man in charge.”

“We’ve been here for quite a long time, Frederick,” Margaret countered. “Your brief time here will amount to nothing.”

His manic eyes darted from face to face, as his body nearly shook with rage. “You’re all delusional!” he shouted, his voice bouncing off all the stainless steel in the kitchen. With this, he stepped back once more and left through the back door.

All at once, everyone breathed, muscles finally relaxing. Nick had never heard the kitchen be that silent before, nor be that still. His eyes went from his mother, Margaret, a few of the kitchen staff, Alma, and then to June. Wait, when did she get here? How much did she see? After locking eyes for a few seconds, she gave him a small, approving nod before exiting the kitchen.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Margaret gently put her time-weathered hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Nick’s eyes glanced down at her black handbag that concealed the lethal weapon. He cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”

“Good work,” Margaret proudly told Daisy, who sat down at the small table with a heavy sigh.

Daisy shook her head. “Let’s hope he’s not dumb enough to come back.”

“He won’t,” Margaret replied, patting her purse. Then, to the rest of the kitchen, “As you were!” She rolled her shoulders and headed back out to the lobby as fast as she could.

“Do you need me to heat that up for you?” his mother asked, nodding towards his plate.

“Oh, no,” Nick replied, picking up his fork again. There wasn’t much of the stir-fry left, and though it had cooled considerably, he’d rather have her rest for a moment. “What? Is Margaret the manager now?”

“For now,” she replied. “We’ve been talking extensively about it. I’m sorry you had to see all that.” She rubbed her face with her hands tiredly.

“Thank you,” he offered sincerely.

“Didn’t you have something to show me?” she asked him, relieved to be talking about something else.

“Oh, right.” Nick turned his attention back to the important envelope on the table. “He changed his address. This didn’t come from the Fort.” He showed his mother. Malibu.

“How far is that?” she questioned, furrowing her brow. “Maybe he was on a short trip?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s not where he’s supposed to be.” He tore open the envelope and found out soon enough.

Nick,

Sorry for the late response. I got served a Big Chicken Dinner, and it took a while to finish. I’m alright. Let the politicians fight their own f****** war, I say. It’s just the gnarly waves and me for now. Visit if you get a chance. Maybe we could shred it up? It’s just like skateboarding, but not really. I’ll try to come home for Christmas. Tell Mama I love her. Send me her address. I forgot it. I’m lucky enough to remember yours, hahahahahaha. Any news?

— Josh

Attached was a Polaroid of Joshua at the beach, suntanned and smiling.

Nick sighed, “There goes all his benefits.”

His heart sank. Though this wasn’t the greatest news, he supposed it could be worse. He handed the letter and photograph to his mother. While she read it, he couldn’t help but think of all the reasons Joshua ended up like this. Intoxication. Insubordination. Desertion. Misconduct. Theft. And now what was he going to do? Nick felt so far away from him, the chasm growing deeper and deeper. He’d call him right now, if only he had left his phone number.

“Big Chicken Dinner,” Daisy Mae mumbled. This, for once, was not one of her specialties. Not at all.

“He seems to be okay,” Nick tried. “He has an address at least.”

His mother stroked the picture of Josh, a melancholy expression on her face. With a sigh, she wiped her eyes and pocketed the Polaroid. “Rita and Matthew stopped by last night.” She shook her head. “He’s such a sweet boy.”

So they’ve told her. Nick was trying to protect her from the blow. It only made it worse. But now they know Joshua wouldn’t be involved with it, even if he had to lose everything to make it happen. War. Is that all they were good for now? Killing each other, killing the innocent, killing the planet? For what? For them to come home shattered, a shell of who they once were?

“Matthew will be fine,” Nick assured her, though he wasn’t so sure himself.

Daisy reached out and squeezed Nick’s hand. Then, she got up from her chair and smoothed down her stained apron. “I suppose those tuna melts won’t make themselves,” she told him. Then to the staff, “Where are we at with things, everyone?” And just like that, the worried mother became the master chef, taking no slack and serving no slop.

Crumpled-up pieces of lined notebook paper surrounded Nick at his coffee table. In front of him was Joshua’s letter for context. He tried over and over to craft a proper response, but the pen kept writing, YOU IDIOT YOU IDIOT YOU IDIOT!!!!!! That certainly wasn’t going to succeed if he wanted Joshua to write back and provide any useful information at all. But, God, he was an idiot. It wasn’t until the fifth draft that he felt like he was getting anywhere.

Josh,

I’m sure that BCD didn’t taste anything like Mama’s cooking. What happened? Do you know what this means now? I hope you’re doing okay. This seems serious.

Seems like you’ve picked up on the lingo already, bruh. I didn’t know you could surf. You could teach me when I visit. Won’t be too soon, though. I miss you. So does Mama.

I think I’m in—

Suddenly, there was a light tapping at his front door. Nick looked up from his draft, heart skipping a beat, and his pen trailed off into a long, black line. The lights were out at Margaret’s. The ticking wall clock read nine-thirty-seven. And the knocking continued, just like the beating of his heart.