Page 7 of Served

“Ellie, I’m still here,” I mutter.

There’s a loud smack and Ellie yelps. Pretty sure Kyle just spanked her butt. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. But really, Letty. Tell me I’m wrong.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “You’re not wrong. The man is totally swoon-worthy. But he’s also…different.”

“Different how?” Ellie presses, the smile evident in her voice.

I examine myself in the mirror, the woman staring back at me both familiar and strange. My hair is down, and I’ve traded my usual work attire for a soft, mint-colored top that Jason always said brought out the golden flecks in my eyes.

Jason. I sigh.

“He’s just...so full of energy. Vibrant.” The words catch in my throat. “The way he moves through the world, it’s like losing his leg was just a margin note in his story, not the whole book. He’s funny without trying. Thoughtful.”

“So, the complete opposite of every sad-sack blind date I’ve tried to set you up with?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” I chuckle. “But also… He’s younger than me.”

“Yeah? By how much?” Ellie asks.

“I’m…not sure. Probably in his late twenties?”

She snorts. “Like your brother-in-law?”

“Well, we both know you’re a cradle robber,” I tease. Ellie doesn’t say a word. She and Kyle are ten years apart, and perfect for each other.

“When’s the last time you thought about something other than grief or tacos, hermana? I mean, really thought about it? Because ever since you met this Marine, you’ve been different. Lighter.”

I apply a touch of tinted lip gloss. “Hmm. He does make me feel like myself again. The me from…before…”

“Well, there you go! Who cares how old he is?”

I take a shaky breath.

“Hey.” She softens. “It’s okay to want this. To want him. Jason wouldn’t want you to bury yourself alive over him.”

My gaze lands on his photo on the nightstand—smile forever frozen at thirty-one, dog tags glinting in the sun. For four years, that image has been my anchor to the past. My unyielding no to anything resembling a future.

Now, I’m not so sure.

I can hear baby Serena giggling in the background.

“How’s my favorite niece?” I ask.

“She’s perfect, of course. Kyle’s about to give her a bath.” I can hear shuffling on the other end. “Oh, and since I’m your sister and I love you, I’ll ignore that you completely changed the subject.”

I laugh, checking the time. “I’ve got to go.”

“Letty, vive un poco.”

Live a little.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I promise, hanging up.

“What do you think, Jay?” I whisper to the empty room.

Silence pulses back at me. All this time, and I still expect him to answer.

I grab my purse and keys, a knot forming in my stomach. The guilt ebbs and flows—sometimes it’s a tidal wave, sometimes just a ripple. Tonight, it feels like something in between as I lock the door behind me.

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