Page 91 of Villainous Fate

I know you must be tired of hearing these, but I told you I could continue, and I will…

41: I miss the nights we sat up looking at the stars, waiting for one to fall so we could wish on it.

42: I miss watching you braid your hair, your agile fingers twirling and twisting it into beautiful patterns.

43: I miss your lips. I’d say on mine, but honestly, everywhere.

44: I miss you telling me you love me.

45: I miss burgers and shakes with extra fries to dip in them.

If I don’t get to hear your voice or write another letter before, Happy Birthday Tails. We will celebrate once we are back together. Send pictures in your next letter. I need a reminder of how beautiful you are.

I love you,

D.

XX

AfterreceivingDeacon’sletterthis morning, I could only hug the paper to my chest as tears flowed down my cheeks. I feel like I’m constantly crying these days—crying when he left, crying that he's gone, crying when I hear from him, crying when I don't.

I’m a mess.

Shaking my head to focus on the task, I grab the rag from my apron to clean off the large booth table that, until ten minutes ago, held twelve t-ball terrorists. Don’t get me wrong, I love kids, but after a certain number, the level of chaos far exceeds my patience. They broke two glasses, spilled an entire pitcher of cola, popped a hole in the leather seat, and started a food fight.

It would have been worth it, but then the coach only gave me a $1.47 tip.

I took the section with the large tables because I need the money. I’d barely been able to argue with the power company to keep the lights on for another week until I could catch up on the balance. Worse, I’m leaving in two days for my birthday trip, and while I’m excited to get to go, missing two entire shifts is a lot right now.

Maybe Deacon will understand why I have to miss it.

My heart aches at the thought of telling him that, after all his planning and the money he spent on tickets and an overnight hotel stay, I can’t go.

I’ll find a way to do it. Maybe I can talk Marcus into driving us back right after so I can work the next day?

Marcus also worked a lot more this last week, and I only saw him on Saturday at the library.

I wonder if he remembers it’s this Friday?

The telltale jingle over the door pulls my attention, and as if I had conjured him from my thoughts, he walks in.

“Well, hi there, Ace. Have a seat wherever you’d like, and I’ll be right with you.” I give him my genuine smile instead of my rehearsed one, and he returns it, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. I take a moment to study him, realizing he looks worn out.

His movements are slow, and he lowers himself into a two-person booth outside my section. The grimace on his face tells me he's healing from something.

“What happened?” I whisper as I slide into the other side of the booth.

His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I can tell he wants to lie to me. His face gives away his indecision, and his eyes apologize without him saying a word. He inhales, ready to speak, and I shove a finger to his lips.

“Don’t. I’d rather you not tell me anything than tell me a lie. Are you gonna be ok?” I ask, trying to take the attitude out of my voice. My irritation rising a level without me even really understanding why.

Deacon had to keep things from me all the time with pack business.

But he never lied.

Marcus nods, and I stand back up, pulling out my pad to take his order.

“Just a burger, no pickles, thank you,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically small and his head dropping to his hands, both his elbows holding it up on the table.

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