Seth opens his mouth, unsure of his next words.
Then Jenny’s blinking, glancing up, her full lips pulling into a sweet smile, as the waitress appears with their food.
Grease. God, it tastes good.
Jenny shovels food into her mouth like her life depends on it. Which, if she wants to get all technical about it, it actually does. Last meal, last conversation. Might as well make the most of it.
She listens as the men she’s sitting with tell her about their musical ambitions. Country boys, really. They amuse her. Plaid shirts, silver belt buckles, southern drawls. Though they make the small talk of strangers, it’s a comfort, not to mention a welcome distraction from what she’s about to do.
But small talk wasn’t what made her take them up on their offer to buy her a meal. It was the man. The sandy-haired cowboy with the rumbling voice.
Seth.
She’s seen him before. She just doesn’t know where.
As she licks ketchup from her fingers, finishing up the last of her fries, Jenny studies Seth. There’s a kindness, a familiarity in his eyes. There’s something about him that feels like a friend. She wants to reach out and take his hand and squeeze it and have him squeeze back. An SOS signal of hope. Of help.
The thought comes sudden and fierce: He saved me once, he can do it again.
You’re coming unglued, Jenny. You’re looking for a way out.
Her eyes bead with hot tears and she glances fast out the window. She’s spent too long here at this table with these men. The ocean calls her. She’ll be free there. No more will Roy have his fists around her throat.
“Hey,” a soft voice says. “You okay?”
Looking up, she meets Seth’s worried gaze.
She forces a shaky smile. “I’m fine.” She rubs her temple, where a migraine threatens to detonate, and pushes her plate away. “I should go.”
Seth’s crystal-blue eyes go wide. “What?”
Her heart gives a twinge at the strange way he’s looking at her. Anguish and pain etched across his face. It’s almost enough to make her stay.
Almost.
Jenny takes a deep breath, wanting to get away from the strange emotions that have welled up. They’re not helping her any. Nothing can.
Seth shakes his head as she gathers up her bag, a slow swing of a denial. “Wait. You can’t go—”
“Pie,” Jace interrupts, and she blinks. Hastily, he signals the waitress. “You can’t go because you should have pie. I hear they make a mean lemon meringue.”
She watches the way the men look at each other. Fearful and intent. Seth’s leaning so far forward in the booth she’s worried he’ll topple over.
Liquid heat sears her temple. Jenny sucks in a hiss, refusing to let the pain take its toll.
“I can’t,” she says, sliding out of the booth. “I have an appointment.” The thought is so morbid, she has to swallow a laugh. Hell, if that isn’t the understatement of the century. How she can be so cavalier about her impending death baffles her. But it also bolsters her. It’s the most strength she’s had in ages.
She stares down at Jace and Seth, her heart full of gratefulness for the kindness they’ve shown. “Thank you.” She means it with every bone in her body. “For everything.”
Before they can say another word, she’s gone.