Page 77 of The Plus One Contract

“Double cheeseburger. Extra cheese, bacon, no tomato. Fries. Coke. And—" I pause, “—a pickle spear. None of that pickle chip nonsense.”

Nathan raises his brows. “Demanding. I’ll have the same,” he says, handing his menu back. “But with tomato because I’m not a monster.”

Carol disappears with our order, and Nathan leans back in the booth, stretching his long legs out under the table. One of his knees brushes mine. He doesn’t move it. Neither do I.

“You always this fun at one in the morning?” he asks.

“No,” I say honestly. “I’m usually asleep or creating fake arguments with people in my head.”

The corner of his mouth curls before he leans back. “Are you going to tell me why you really couldn’t sleep?”

I blow out a breath, glancing down at the small tabletop jukebox beside me. “You got quarters?”

He fishes a few coins out of his wallet and drops them into my hand without question.

“Pick something good,” he says. “I swear if you choose Nickelback—”

I shoot him a glare. “I was going to pickLandslide.”

That makes him pause. “Fleetwood Mac?”

“It’s always been my comfort song. Reminds me that it’s okay not to have it all figured out.”

I punch in the numbers, and the melody begins to spill from the machine, quiet and aching. I keep my eyes on the jukebox.

“I was worried,” I say quietly.

“I told you not to.”

“Yeah, well. You don’t get to dictate my emotional range, Calloway.”

He chuckles under his breath, but I feel the weight in the air shift again.

His eyes burn into me. “Ask me something.”

“What?”

“You’ve got until the food gets here. Anything you want. I’ll answer.”

I study him, unsure whether I’m imagining the vulnerability in his expression or if it’s truly there.

“Has she always been like that?” I ask softly.

He doesn’t need clarification.

“Yes,” he says. “Since I was old enough to know what being scared felt like. She wasn’t always drunk, but she was always angry. Always blaming someone else.”

“And your dad?”

“Left when I was fifteen,” he says. “Didn’t even pack a bag. Just…disappeared.”

I stare down at my hands. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” His voice is flat. “He wasn’t a good man, but I was more angry at him for leaving us with her. At least with him, we knew what to expect.”

The words hit like a punch, but his voice is calm. Steady.

“Nathan…”

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