Page 34 of A Twisted Gift

“Breakfast,” I say softly.

“Right.” Her gaze lingers on my mouth for a second longer before she turns away. “Where is it? The—the shop?”

I clear my throat. “Across the street.”

“And we…” She frowns. “We go inside, right?”

“That’s right.” I take her hand, worried she’ll walk into oncoming traffic. “But we need to wait until there aren’t any cars coming.”

Raina giggles. “I know that, Erik.”

She peers around my car, but I pull her back as an SUV cuts it too close to the parking spaces.

“Careful,” I murmur. “Gotta keep your distance from them, too.”

Once the traffic clears, we cross the road and step into the shop. It’s warm and busy, but it looks like most people are getting their orders to go so they can explore the rest of the little stores around here.

Raina’s eyes are wide as she takes it all in. The shop is an inundation of new stimuli for her. The environment, the sounds, possibly even some of the smells… I’m half expecting for her to take one look at the place and dart outside.

She doesn’t, though. Her grip tightens on my hand, but she looks around with curiosity, not overwhelm.

Gently, I pull her to the back of the line. “There’s the menu board,” I say, pointing up at it. “It lists everything you can get.”

Raina nods. She alternates between going over the menu items and watching people order at the counter. When it’s our turn, I go first, getting a breakfast sandwich and a hot cider.

“Can I have the ham, egg, and cheese sandwich?” Raina asks when it’s her turn.

“Of course. On an English muffin or a bagel?”

“The… English muffin.”

“Sure thing. And would you like something to drink?”

Raina stares longingly at the other person behind the counter, who’s making my cider. “Am…” She glances at me, tugging me down so she can whisper in my ear, “Am I allowed to have a cider?”

“The only person who gets to decide that is you.”

She stares at me for a second before nodding sharply and turning back to the cashier. “A hot cider, please.”

“What size?”

“Twelve ounce.”

I smile. She’s copying my order, except I got my sandwich on a bagel.

The barista tells us our total, and I tap my card against the reader while Raina watches.

“A credit card, right?” she asks a I steer us toward the pickup area.

“Correct.”

It’s interesting, learning what Raina’s knowledge gaps are. She knows about credit cards but not whether she’s safe around people. Knows not to step in front of cars but not to wear a seatbelt inside of one.

We wait until our order number is called, and then I steer Raina toward a table in the back. It’s mostly quiet here, giving us some sense of privacy for this conversation.

Once we’re seated, I stare at my bagel, unsure of where to start. Some would call my childhood tragic, but I can’t skip over it, even though it’ll break Raina’s heart. She needs to hear everything.

“Last night, I didn’t lie when I told you my parents passed when I was young, but you’re right. It wasn’t the whole truth.”

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