“Do you have a preference?”
“I try to do something new every time. I love the Local Buzz, but I’ll try El Super Bee this time. What are you going for?” I ask as we stand back and take in the menu.
“I’m going to d
o The Heart of Texas. I like ale, and red ale feels about right for three in the afternoon.”
I laugh. “It’s five o’clock somewhere, Ollie.”
“Ha, every time is the right time for beer given the proper motivations.”
I laugh. “You’re not wrong.”
“I’ll order those. You relax.”
“I can split—”
“I thought I was feeding you?” He arches a brow, and I smile down at the table.
“Right.”
“You can get me next time, sassy.” He knocks on the table before he walks over to the register. I admire his gait as he approaches the counter. There’s a lot about Ollie to like.
I glance over my shoulder and watch the people go by. None of them look suspicious or interested in me. Maybe I do need to see a head shrinker. I’m trying to move past what happened, but it continues to haunt me, even as the nightmares fade. It feels like there’s unfinished business. Because I didn’t agree to testify or do a line up. I’ll always worry they’re out there watching and waiting.
Ollie returns with the drinks, and I put on a smile as I push the worry down.
OLLIE
There are shadows flickering in the depths of Quinn’s brown eyes. She’s worried about something. I can tell the signs. We’ve been one another’s sounding board and the main source of support since it all went down. We’re thinkers. We stew until we’re ready to share. She’s always stepped up and helped put my mind at ease. I refuse to fall short on providing that same level of comfort for her. I study her over the rim of my Beermomsa. Buzzed, and full, we’re sharing a Brownie 6 and finishing off our last drink. The toffee is dancing across my taste buds like it’s trying to win a trophy. Everything at LUCK is good. The comfort food menu with local flare and the fact that they have fresh local beer on tap always makes for a good evening.
Setting the beer down, I dig my spoon into the brownie on the plate sitting between us.
“We’re going to have to walk around after this unless you plan on rolling me to the truck.”
“Ha. No, I’m with you on the walk. They always have cool things in the shops, and you just can’t leave without hitting up the chocolatier.”
“Where are you putting all this food?” I scan her fit frame, astounded by the amount she’s packing in. I like a girl who isn’t afraid to eat.
She shrugs. “In my hollow leg according to my dad.”
“I think he’s right.” I take a sip of my beer and study her on the sly.
“This was exactly what I needed today. Thank you.”
“You feeling better?” I ask, careful to keep my tone light.
She takes a healthy bite of the brownie and frowns. “For the most part.”
“There’s something still bothering you, though.” I gently nudge her toward spilling her guts. All it takes is a little interest and the illusion that she’s choosing to tell me versus me prying.
She sighs. “It’s the situation itself. It’s just sort of ... still there, this unfinished thing lurking in the background waiting to pop up.”
“Have you decided if you’re going to do the lineup or agree to testify if it comes to that?”
“No.” She bows her head. “To be honest, I’m afraid.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I hate that it’s true. But it is.”
I take another bite of my food as I roll the words around in my head. If I answer this wrong, she may clam up.