Page 57 of Unearthed Dreams
The silence that followed made me look up. Her expression was thunderous.
“Like hell you are.” She planted both hands on the counter and leaned forward. “That bar is your home. Billy knew that when he gave it to you. Why do you think he chose you over selling to some developer who’d turn it into another tourist trap?”
“Because I was the only one stupid enough to stick around?”
Rosie’s eyes narrowed. “Hold that thought, honey.” She disappeared into the kitchen, but I could see her through the order window, phone pressed to her ear. Her voice was too low to make out the words, but she kept glancing at me as she spoke, her expression determined.
“Who’d you call?” I asked when she returned, but she just waved off my question.
“Never you mind. Now, where were we? Ah yes—you being an idiot.” She snorted. “You really believe Billy kept you around because you were convenient? He watched you bring that place back to life. Watched you take care of the regulars like family. Hell, you even remembered old Mr. Peterson’s wife’s birthday every year, sending him home with her favorite whiskey so they could toast her memory.”
My throat felt tight. “That’s different.”
“No, it’s not.” Rosie’s voice softened. “You belong here, Kai. Running that bar, being part of this community. And Billy?” She nodded at the box in my hands. “He knew it before you did.”
“I don’t know how to do this alone.” The admission was barely above a whisper.
“Good thing you don’t have to.” Rosie grabbed her order pad, pointedly ignoring the way I kept glancing at the kitchen phone. “Now, about this memorial. I’m thinking we open the bar early, around four. Give people time to come by, share stories. I’ll handle the food—don’t argue with me on this—and we’ll need...”
She kept talking, making lists, but my mind wandered to that phone call. Rosie knew everything about everyone in thistown. Had probably seen more than I realized these past few weeks. The thought made my chest tight.
“Are you even listening to me?” Rosie’s voice cut through my thoughts.
“Yeah, four o’clock, food, stories...” I gestured vaguely with my coffee mug. “Who were you calling?”
A knowing smile crossed her face. “You’ll find out soon enough. Now, about the music. Billy always loved those old country songs?—”
“Rosie.”
“Don’t you ‘Rosie’ me, young man.” She pointed her pen at me. “Some things are better left as surprises. Trust me on this.”
The bell above the door chimed, making us both look up. But it was just Mr. Henderson coming in for his usual breakfast. Rosie’s smile grew wider, like she knew something I didn’t.
“You’ll see,” she said softly. “Everything’s going to work out exactly how it should.”
Chapter Twenty-One
CHARLIE
When my phonerang at 8:15 AM, I almost didn’t answer. This past week had been an exercise in pretending everything was fine while feeling anything but. Mom kept giving me concerned looks over dinner, clearly noting my lack of appetite. Dad asked why I wasn’t sleeping—apparently my light was visible under the door at all hours. Even Chase had been oddly attentive, like he knew something was wrong but couldn’t quite figure out what.
Or maybe he knew exactly what was wrong. He’d been watching me carefully ever since that morning I’d snuck in wearing yesterday’s clothes.
But it wasn’t any of my family calling. The screen displayed “Rosie’s Diner,” and my heart stuttered.
“Hello?”
“Charlie, honey.” Rosie’s voice was soft, careful. “He’s here.”
My fingers tightened around the phone. I didn’t have to ask who she meant. “How... how is he?”
“About as good as you’d expect.”
The air left my lungs in a rush. Seven days. Seven days of wondering, of wanting to go to him, of respecting his wishes to stay away even when everything in me screamed to be there.
“He needs you,” Rosie continued. “Even if he’s too stubborn to admit it.”
I sank onto my pink bedspread, surrounded by the remnants of the life I’d lived before Kai—before I knew what it felt like to want someone so much it hurt. “He made it pretty clear he doesn’t want my help.”
