Page 7 of The Sweetest Chirp

And what an ass she has.

I drink in her thighs when she bends over to grab an envelope from under the counter by the checkout. She has stretch marks along her milky skin that weren’t there before, and I’m struck by the need to trace them with my fingers and my tongue, over and over again. I swallow thickly as she moves back behind thecounter, her brows pinched as she calls out orders and serves them. Owen and Telly are talking, but I’m unable to comprehend or even add to the conversation when my sole focus is on her.

I found her, and now I don’t know what to do.

Breathlessly, I reach into my pocket and bring up the text thread with my sister Ingrid.

Me: I found her.

It’s only seconds before the text comes through.

Ingrid: Bring her home.

That’s all, and while pride fills me at knowing my sister thinks I’m capable of that, fear replaces those feelings in mere seconds.

Because I might let my sister down all over again.

CHAPTER THREE

Don’t panic.

It’s fine.

Maybe he doesn’t recognize me.

Who am I kidding? He knows it’s me. Even with dark glasses and the red IceCats hat that’s low on his head, I know he isstaring right at me. I feel his gaze like a trail of fire down my body. Only Thatcher makes me feel like that, setting me aflame with only one glance of those dark-brown eyes. It’s been like that since we were kids, and no matter how many years or how much distance has been between us, I feel his gaze. He looks as devastatingly handsome as he did when I left. All dark and brooding, his shoulders wide enough to break doorways, his hair curling around the brim of his cap as he sits with his corded, veined forearms on the table. There is something about the way his jaw is covered in hair, like he doesn’t want a full-out beard but also enjoys the feeling of the hair there, that drives me absolutely wild. His thick brows are nicely trimmed, and I know behind those glasses are dark eyes that can bring me to my knees.

That have brought me to my knees.

His lips are full but pressed together until they’re white, and I know he’s stressed. I know he has been looking for me, and I know he’s trying to figure out how to go about this. Unable to handle the thought of hearing his deep, baritone voice, I move quickly through the diner that has been my home for the last three years as my mind reels. When I first left, I jumped from city to city, from the Carolinas to Virginia. It wasn’t until I stopped here that I decided to stay.

The Red Ruby is owned by Mac and Ruby McAllen. I was a mess when I sat down to wait twenty-five minutes for my Dutch baby in the hopes it’d bring some joy to my mind-blowing day. Ruby took one look at me, her silver curls falling around her sharp blue eyes, before she demanded I let her help me. Next thing I knew, I was unloading everything, and Ruby took it upon herself to take care of me. I started living upstairs in the small loft apartment and working full time for them. Mac and Ruby are the grandparents I never had, and I couldn’t have survived the way I did without them.

Which brings me endless amounts of grief. I left to find myself, not to lean on anyone, yet I leaned on Mac and Ruby. Though, they’ll tell you that’s not the case. That I don’t miss a payment for the apartment, that I work forty hours a week and pay all my bills without one single handout. They say they were helping a young woman who was running from something.

Rather, someone.

Thatcher Orlov.

I almost rush upstairs to tell Ruby that he’s here, but I don’t want to alarm her. I can only hope he doesn’t recognize me. My hair is almost black, I’ve covered all my freckles, and my glasses hide my eyes. I’ve gained a lot of weight, and I don’t look like myself. Or, at least, I don’t feel like the Audrina Hawkins I was. I’ve grown so much, but I can’t tell him that. Not now, not after all that has happened.

I can’t go home.

If I pissed everyone off before by leaving, if I went back, they’d never forgive me.

I can’t help but keep side-eyeing him as I move quickly around the diner. I’ve become a fixture in the Red Ruby, the only waitress who has stayed on for so long. With this being a roadside diner, people come and go, but I haven’t. This has been my safe haven, my home, but I can’t deny how much I’ve missed my real home.

How I yearn to hear my mom’s and dad’s voices. To feel their embrace.

To sign with Ingrid.

For Maeve to cook for me and get all excited when I eat everything.

To play chess with Don.

To exist with Thatcher.

Because that’s what we did. We existed together, and it was bliss.

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