Page 1 of Simply You & Me

Prologue

Tate

Ishould be pissed. Anxious and afraid, actually. My nerves should be vibrating. My fists clench, trying to fight back the rising negativity. What's that saying? With the bad comes the good. My life in a nutshell right now.

With my niece's words still ringing in my ear, the battle to focus on the positive outcome of this fucked up shit show isn't hard. "Love you, Uncle Tate. For always."

The promise of moving across the country and living in the same city as my sister and her family; the bad gets put on the back burner. The mess we made, the bad decisions, and the mistakes won't matter anymore. This will be good.

Excitement and giddiness tug my mind into the wonderful future. A future I have dreamed of since I was a twelve-year-old boy. The twelve-year-old me who wanted nothing more than for his sister to come home and wrap him in her protective grasp. To shield me from the world with her wider-than-life smile. I begged the universe for Rylee to come home and tell me it was all a misunderstanding and that she would never leave me again.

Now I don't have to worry. I never have to worry about being separated from my sister and niece again. Seeing them a few times a year isn't enough. I want to shove my sister into the waves of South Carolina while little Layla hoots and hollers from one of her dads’ shoulders.

"Tate!" Zach's wild snap of annoyance drags me out of my daydreaming.

"What?" I scowl, annoyed with his tone.

We're all stressed, but just because our world is turning against us doesn't mean we should also turn against each other. Quite the fucking opposite, actually.

"What did they say?" The look Zach gives me screams insecurity and panic. I know this is hard for him—letting go of his control and relying on someone else to help us.

I stifle a snort when Wyatt rolls his eyes at our pseudo-leader. "Zach. Fuck off." He turns to me, his dark eyes making me shiver in all the right ways. "What's the plan, T?"

My pulse spikes in joy again, even though we're technically hauling ass out of Washington. "Pack your bags. We're getting the hell out of here."

Chapter One

Adelyn

The gasp that comes out of my mouth is borderline demonic.

The chef on the other side of the counter gapes at me. "Shit, Addie! Was that you?!"

I don't have the capacity to respond to him. I have to get these plates out, lest I lose my tip. I'm almost positive my fingerprints won't be able to identify me ever again. The offensive food steaming in my face makes my stomach gurgle and cramp. At least my internal clock still works. Almost time for me to go home if my rumbling tummy is correct. After being burned to hell by the smallest slice of steak I have ever seen, I can feel my mood declining rapidly.

It's fine. I'm fine. Almost done. Keep moving. Smile, give these fancy people their fancy food. Ask them if they need anything else. Smile again. Done. Good. Turn around and make myself scarce. Wash my hands in the backroom and?—

"West!"

Fuck.

"Yeah?" I turn to my boss, barely managing to hold back my cringe. His salt and pepper eyebrows are furrowed, and his massive body dominates the kitchen around him. I can never tell if he's mad at me or just life in general. Either way, his pissed-off energy makes my anxiety rear its horrific head.

Stomping by me without so much of a glance my way, he declares, "You're off. Finish your last table, then get out of here."

I feel the muscles in my neck loosen a fraction. "Yes, sir. Thank you. Have a good night." His grunt barely reaches my ears before he's off to scare his next staff member.

Sighing, I move through the motions once again. I know this job. I'm good at it if I can keep to my regime. Life serving a bunch of pompous people is ridiculously intimidating. Add on the normal waitress duties of running around and dodging everyone else, and this job can easily devolve into a panic attack, which I'm constantly on the verge of.

At least their fashion sense is usually on point. What I wouldn’t give for the pairs of high heels that strut their way to my section. Not to mention, the purses might have me gaping sometimes.

Settling their bill, I wish them a good evening and release a stuttering breath when I see their large tip. The number might not mean much to them, but this simple gesture of appreciation will make my next few weeks much easier.

Finally finished with my tasks, I hustle my ass out the back door. The ten-minute walk to my apartment is filled with frustration.

Why didn’t I drive? The walk isn’t clearing my head like planned.

It's almost eight at night, and I still have so much to do. A flash of the dishes in the sink and the dirty laundry piled in Rory's room tumble through my exhausted brain. I won't have time to do it tomorrow since I'm working brunch and promised to take my kid shopping after school.

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