Page 37 of The Summer I Destroyed You

As soon as we start to walk, he scoots me to the inside of the sidewalk, as if I’m a child who might step into the street. As we continue on, I sense him hovering, watching out for me.

I should resent this. I’m not sure why I don’t.

He opens the door to the diner, and it hits me that this man has been taking care of me in small ways and large ones since I was ten, though I doubt he’s even aware of it.

I pause in the doorway and glance up him. “I remembered something last night. You defended me when I was younger. This kid was stealing my candy on Halloween and you made him give it back.”

He stills, frowning. “I vaguely remember that. I’m sorry I didn’t do more.”

“Do more?” I ask incredulously as he grabs two menus and leads me to a table. “You not only recovered my candy, you made the kid give me his candy too.”

He slides into the seat across from mine. “Not then. Later.” He glances up only for a moment before his gaze returns to his menu. “I had no idea they all continued to give you such a hard time. I’d have put a stop to it if I’d known.”

My face grows hot. I wonder how much he’s heard. If he has a full grasp now of how fucking pathetic I was. Maybe that’s why he’s no longer interested in me the way he seemed to be before we met.

“That’s okay,” I reply. “If you’d stopped it, I’d have had no enemies to vanquish now and where would be the fun in that?”

He gives me a faint smile and sets his menu off to the side. “So, do you keep a written list of these enemies? Is the kid who stole your Halloween candy when you were ten on there?”

I tap my head. “The list is all up here. And yes, the kid who stole my candy is on there, but he moved to Seattle to become a musician and lives with seven other guys. I can’t crush his dreams until he has something I can take away from him.”

He bites down on a grin. “How unexpectedly reasonable. What are you getting?”

“Just coffee. I don’t eat breakfast.” I hate how much I sound like Sandra Atwell right now.

“Come on. Stop acting like you’re too good for the place.”

“I’m not…ugh…fine,” I say, snatching up a menu. “I suppose an egg-white omelet is too exotic for Elliott Springs?”

“Live a little. An extra gram of fat or two won’t kill you. Get the eggs benedict. You’ll love it.”

I do love eggs benedict. I love it on the patio of La Grande Boucherie and served with a mimosa, after I’ve earned it with a long run. I’m guessing the diner’s mayo-based hollandaise won’t live up to the memory, but I like these little moments with Liam, when it feels as if I could become someone else entirely—the kind of girl who goes out to breakfast with a guy she likes, who wears his sweatshirt and feels safe enough to fall asleep on his couch.

The kind who orders the eggs benedict and doesn’t calculate how many miles she’ll have to run to burn it off.

I order the eggs benedict and so does he, and when it arrives…the first bite is ecstasy. “Oh my God,” I groan. “It’s so good.”

His eyes flicker, ever so briefly, to my mouth. “I thought you’d like it.”

“Is this what you order every day?”

“No,” he says with a grin. “I get the egg-white omelet.”

After we’ve eaten, I lay out the blueprints, and he examines them carefully. “I can rip out what he’s done so far and have the subfloor fixed by Friday. I’ll place an order for new hardwood tomorrow and we’ll have it in by Tuesday. JP is checking on the cost right now.”

I blink. For the first time in months someone is actually exceeding my expectations. Who’d have thought it would be yard boy, of all people?

He insists on getting the check though I probably make his annual salary in a week. I run down the narrow hallway to the bathroom while he takes the bill to the register, and I’m thinking I’ve survived a meal at the diner unscathed when Paul Bellamy steps in my path,

“Brave of you to come back in,” he says. “You never know who’s making your food or who might have spit in it.”

My stomach rolls, but I’m not about to let him see I’m worried. “How sad that threatening to spit in my food is the only power you’ve got, Paul.” And you won’t even have that once Inspired Building closes this place down.

He storms away and Liam’s hand lands on the small of my back. “What just happened?”

I startle, turning toward him. “Just one of the guys from high school continuing to be a dick to me.”

“What did he say?” Liam hisses.

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