Sing it to her? Is she serious? I’ve never sung to anyone before. I do that shit when I’m alone, or when I can be drowned out by the radio.
Her full, red lip pouts as she looks up at me. “Please? I want to hear the words so bad.”
“Your voice might be my favorite sound.”
Sighing, my head hits the seat. I can do this. It’s just singing.
Her finger traces lazy circles on my thigh, but she stops the second the words flow past my lips.
“I’m trying real hard not to shake. I’m biting my tongue, but I’m feeling alive and with every breath that I take, I feel like I’ve won. You’re my key to survival. And if it’s a hero you want, I can save you. Just stay here. Your whispers are priceless. Your breath, it is dear. So please stay near.”
I risk a glance down at her. Mouth dropped open, her eyes blazing with wonder as she stares up at me.
Well, at least she isn’t crying.
“Reed,” she murmurs, her gaze transfixed on my mouth. Her heartbeat thundering against my side. “Keep going.”
I kiss her head, watching that smile grow, feeling it hit me in the center of my chest.
My eyes turn back to the road as I give her what she wants.
THE SILVER MOON DINER ONLY has a few cars in the gravel lot surrounding it. None of them a black Monte Carlo, the vehicle Beth’s dad told her he would be driving.
“We’re early,” I reassure her when she looks around the lot, then back at the road. I place my hand on her back as she turns her head, her eyes heavy with awareness.
Sighing, she tugs at the bottom of her shorts. “It’s almost two o’clock. We’re not that early.”
I lead her toward the door, not responding, because fuck, she’s right. We’re meeting at two. It’s less than five minutes ’til. We’re not early. We’re on time.
I take in a deep breath, calming my nerves.
The hostess inside the diner greets us with a smile. “Afternoon. Two today?”
“Three,” Beth eagerly corrects her. “My dad’s coming too.”
I sit across from Beth in the booth, taking the menu from the hostess and flipping it open. Beth sets hers down and stares out the large window, keeping her hands in her lap.
An older woman in a bright teal apron walks up, smiling. “Afternoon. My name is Doris and I’ll be your waitress today. Can I start you two off with something to drink?”
Beth doesn’t respond. Doesn’t turn her head or acknowledge our waitress is any way.
I look up at Doris. “Sweet tea for her. I’ll take a root beer.”
Doris walks away.
I tap my foot against Beth’s under the table, setting my menu aside. She turns her head, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly. She looks sad and hopeful at the same time. How that’s possible, I have no idea.
Our drinks are set in front of us. Doris pulls a notepad out of the front of her apron, ready to take down our order.
“Oh, we’re waiting for someone,” Beth tells her, holding up her hand. Her dark hair brushes against her cheek when she turns her head abruptly. “Can we wait until he gets here? I want us to eat together.”
Doris tucks the notepad back away, winking at Beth. “Sure thing, darling. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.”
Beth settles back against the seat, setting her phone down in front of her as Doris walks away.
I glance at the clock on the wall above the door. Ten after two. The condensation building on my glass absorbs into my hand as I take a sip of the chilled soda.
“Did you tell your aunt and uncle where you were going today?” I ask Beth, wanting to keep her talking. Needing to keep her mind off the nearly vacant parking lot she’s staring at.
Shit, I need to keep my mind off it. Where the fuck is he?
She nods, focusing on me, a hint of a smile touching her lips. “Danny lectured me for an hour when I told him what I was doing. He seemed slightly less worried about it when I said you were going with me.”
“Slightly,” I repeat, laughing at Danny’s protectiveness.
Bastard knows me well enough, but still gives me shit for dating his niece.
I cross my arms over my chest and lean back. “Like I’d let you do this alone.”
“I don’t think I could’ve done this alone,” she says quietly. Her eyes lower to the table, her finger moving along the edge of the black, floral phone case. “Especially if he doesn’t show up.”
A pressure builds in my chest. “Look at me,” I demand. She raises her head. “Don’t do that. He’ll be here. He’s probably just stuck in traffic.”
Her eyes wander to the window.
I repeat the same words to her over the next hour, reassuring her, trying to keep myself convinced.
By three o’clock, I’m emphasizing how awful traffic must be coming from Tennessee. She dials her dad, frowning when he doesn’t answer. Every time Doris begins to make her way to our table, I keep her back with a shake of my head.