“Claire,” his voice is barely a whisper. He reaches up and grazes my cheek, settling his fingers along the side of my face, cupping it gently.
Butterflies swarm my stomach at the way my name slides off his tongue.
“I…” His serious gaze consumes me.
His phone buzzes on my nightstand and he rolls his eyes at the intrusion, dropping his hand at the same time. It goes off once more, solidifying the ruined moment between us.
* * *
Johnny walks me to my shift at the diner, making sure I’m safe inside before he goes on his way.
I hate that he has to go, but I understand why he’s doing it. He’s too far in to back out now. I just hope whatever his plan is, that it works, because I can’t stomach the idea of something terrible happening to him—or worse, losing him. Finding him in that alley was heartbreaking, and that was prior to our relationship developing the way it has now. I can only imagine how painful it would be for something like that to happen again.
Every single time he’s called out, I’m a nervous wreck. Even when we were in that back and forth of not talking to each other, and he would disappear for hours on end, I’d be a ball of anxiety waiting for him to return safely.
Right now is no exception either.
Bram notices it, too. “You okay, kid?”
I approach the counter after delivering a stack of pancakes to the lone patron in the corner booth. “Yeah.” I glance at the clock.
Johnny has been gone for four hours, and my shift ends in about forty-five minutes.
I grab a rag and walk to a newly emptied table to clean it off. My thoughts are interrupted when I overhear someone’s name.
“Yeah, Jared and his buddy do it every Sunday.”
I covertly follow the sound to spot a guy about my age talking on his cell phone. He brings his cup of coffee to his lips and takes a drink.
I drop my gaze and go back to wiping the table, listening attentively.
“Over on Sullivan. They pretty much got everyone from the building to go. Claim it’s their hangover cure. Whatever. Steve was salty when I told him I wasn’t coming.” He pauses while the other person talks. “Probably another hour, but I’m not going.” He slides a French fry off his plate and tosses it into his mouth. “Lifting weights is what they do, I’m more of a drown myself in greasy food type of guy.”
And from the look of him, that statement rings true.
I check the time once more and glance at the door. Still no sign of Johnny. I could text him, but I don’t want to distract him if he’s in the middle of his delivery. I’d rather not add any more risk to his already dangerous situation.
I replay the one side of the conversation I just heard.
Sullivan. It’s probably the gym in the community center that students at our school get free access to. Which is a hefty walk from their house. And if they’re going to be there for another sixty minutes, I could easily pop over and rummage through that room Johnny and I had seen those sneakers in.
I’d be in and out in a flash, and if anyone catches me, I could easily say I left my purse behind at the party. Totally believable story.
I'd love to have the luxury of waiting, talking this over with Johnny, and coming up with a plan together, but considering the next time this guy mentioned they would be gone for sure isnextSunday, I can’t exactly afford to waste this perfect opportunity.
Johnny isn’t here, and I have no idea when he’ll be back. He’ll be pissed, but this is my chance to show him I’m not the weak girl he thinks I am. I can see it in the way he looks at me, like I’m going to break.
And maybe I am. But this is my time to prove those doubts wrong to both of us.
* * *
Iconvince Bram to let me go early, which is most likely going to be the easiest part of this plan. Bram can totally run the diner alone, with his eyes closed. Having me there is probably more for me than it is for him. I'm grateful for the job, and the opportunity to learn humility from such a good man.
I check my phone one last time and shove it into my back pocket. I still haven’t heard from Johnny, but I have to hope that everything is okay. He’s warned me numerous times about how long some of his errands can take, and yet it still doesn’t make the wait any less unbearable.
Tugging the sleeves of my thin sweatshirt down around my wrists, I head out the front door of the diner and make my way toward my destination. I breathe in the warm fall air and squint at the brightness of the sun. I need to invest in a decent pair of shades and actually keep them on me if I’m going to continue living in a place that’s always beaming.
I keep my arms tight around my chest and avoid eye contact with people on the walk to the building. Not that it's a difficult task, considering most of the pedestrians are so consumed by the device in their hands that they don’t even notice me.