Page 16 of Catch Me When I Fall

He tipped his head down to them. “Please, for the love of God, sweetheart, take a tissue and wipe those tears. You’re fucking killing me,” he ordered, his voice still soft.

I nodded, grabbing one. As I started to wipe my tears, he bent back down. “Here’s the deal,” he began. “I won’t write you a ticket if you tell me what you were ready for, yeah?”

I blinked.

“Can you do that for me?” he pressed, his brown eyes shining.

I nodded once more. “The truth?”

He chuckled. “I mean, you could lie to me, but yeah, I would like the truth.”

I looked to my lap as I began pulling the tissue a part slowly. “My husband died last year,” I whispered, my voice so quiet, I was sure he couldn’t hear me.

“Oh.”

I peeked up at him to find his face painted with pity. “I’m sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine…”

I didn’t bother saying thank you, because that was a weird thing to thank someone for in my opinion. All I could do was nod, and I felt like if I did that one more time, my head would pop off. “I came out here to start over,” I said after a few moments of strained silence, cars passing us without a care in the world.

He raised a brow. “You came to Astoria to do that?”

A weak smile formed on my lips. “I like the name, and I saw an advertisement for a restaurant.”

“Margie’s?” he guessed.

“That’s the one, yes.”

He returned my smile with one of his own, and for a moment, I was reminded of Robert. I felt a kick in the gut then, and my own smile faded away, nothing more than a memory now.

“Margie has been around since I was just a kid,” he told me. “She’s one hell of a cook.”

“I can’t wait to try it,” I replied, looking back to the road, pondering if this was really the place I wanted to start over at. So far, things hadn’t been going well. I hadn’t even made into the dang town and I was already pulled over.

“What’s your name?”

My eyes met his again, and I blindly reached for my backpack. “I’m sorry, do you need my driver’s license?”

His lips twitched. “Told you I wasn’t giving you a ticket. We made a deal, remember? Just want your name.”

I swallowed. “C-Carrie.”

“Carrie,” he repeated, as if testing it.

We stared at each other for a few more moments before he pulled out a notepad and scribbled something down on it. “Alright, Carrie, here’s what you’re going to do before you hit Margie’s. You’re going to head down the main road here and stop at Rossy’s Books. Then you’re going to go inside and ask for Sarah Humbly.”

“Who is that?” I asked.

He grinned. “That’s my wife.”

“Oh.”

He ripped the paper off the notepad and held it out to me between two fingers. “You’re going to tell Sarah that her pushover of a husband couldn’t stand the sight of your tears and decided to help you.”

I took the paper from him, saying nothing.

“Got all that?” he asked, raising his brows.

“I—uh—why are you doing this?”

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