Page 67 of Twisted Truths

“Thanks.”

She glared at me, shook her head, and walked away.

“I don’t know what you did to make her hate you.” My dad laughed. “Who is she?”

Heaving a sigh, I looked over at him. “She’s the farm girl.”

Miranda

Fuck! Why tonight?

“You okay there, Miranda?” Big E asked softly as I leaned over the service window.

“No.” I made a face. “I haven’t seen him since … you know what? It doesn’t matter.”

As long as they keep Charlie at the house.

“He’s just another customer.” Big E shrugged.

I rolled my eyes at Edie’s oldest brother. “No. He’s lower than dogshit.”

He flipped his spatula and chuckled. “Get to it.”

“Yes, sir!” I saluted him and went back to their table and didn’t acknowledge Henry. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“We’re celebrating, and I think that calls for one of your biggest malts.” Mr. Walsh had a twinkle in his eyes.

“All celebrations need ice cream.” I smiled back and went to the ice cream counter to make one banana split malt.

I opened the ice cream cooler and scooped out some vanilla. Then, I added malt and milk and blended it together. Whiledoing that, I drizzled chocolate and strawberry sauce inside the glass.

Slicing a banana in half, I added that to the glass, then poured in the thick milkshake. I topped it with a puffy crown of whipped cream, complete with a cherry, on top and took it over to Mr. Walsh.

The door opened and Ethan’s dad came in, walking over to Henry and his family.

I set the malt down, and Evan pointed to it. “I’ll have one of those.”

“Coming right up.” I spun on my heel and heard the small boy call out.

“Tooooo!”

I didn’t want to smile or be filled with the warm fuzzies. But I was. Henry’s son was adorable.

Both of them.

From the ice cream station, I watched Henry’s dad tease him.

“This is delicious.” Mr. Walsh plucked the cherry off and popped it into his mouth. “You’re missing out, Henry.”

He took his spoon and gave a bite to the toddler, who made a cute squeal of delight.

I made two more malts and took them back to the table. “Here you go Mr. York.” I set his in front of him, and then to be a brat I set the other one down closer to the little boy’s grabby hands.

“Whoa!” Henry moved it in time to keep the young one clean.

“Me.” He patted his chest.

“I know, Dillon. Let’s get some real food before ice cream.”

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