Page 22 of The Hang Up
Holden
I get to the diner twenty minutes early. I can’t help it. Ever since Lena agreed to meet for lunch, I’ve been restless. I barely slept last night. I spent the whole morning cleaning my place like I was expecting royalty, even though there’s a good chance she’ll eat her burger, make polite conversation, and bolt.
Still, I had to be ready.
I park outside Sandbags Burgers and sit in my truck for a minute, gripping the wheel and trying to calm my racing heart. This feels like a date, but it’s not. Not really. It’s lunch. That’s it.
Except it’s not just lunch. Not to me.
This is the first time we’ll be alone since everything came out since the kiss. Since I told her the truth about her mom. Since she told me how much I hurt her.
This is the first time she’s willingly agreed to see me again.
I spot Lena before she sees me. She’s walking down the street, her coat wrapped tightly around her, curls spilling over her shoulders. She looks soft and beautiful and tired. My chest tightens just looking at her.
I hop out of the truck and meet her on the sidewalk.
“Hey,” I say, voice low, trying not to scare her off.
“Hey,” she replies, hugging her arms around herself like she’s bracing for a storm. “You’re early.”
I shrug. “Didn’t want to be late.”
She nods, glancing toward the diner, and then back at me. Her eyes flick to the windows, where three people are watching us like hawks—small town nosiness at its finest.
I clear my throat. “Want to eat here, or…?”
Her eyes are wary but curious as she looks at me.
“I thought we could grab something to go,” I offer. “Come back to my place. It’s quiet there. No one staring.”
I hold my breath as she hesitates.
Then she nods. “Okay.”
Okay.
It’s one word, but it feels like winning the lottery. I push open the diner door for her, and we head inside. We order quickly—cheeseburgers, fries, two milkshakes—and we don’t talk much while we wait.
When the food’s ready, I take the bag and drinks, and we head back outside. I open the truck door for her, and she climbs in without a word. I jog around to the driver’s side, my palms sweaty against the leather steering wheel.
The drive is quiet, but not uncomfortable. Lena stares out the window, her fingers resting lightly on the paper bag in her lap.
I want to say something. I want to ask her how she’s doing. I want to reach over and take her hand, but I don’t. I just drive.
My grandfather’s house is nestled in the pines with the lake beyond the backyard. It’s peaceful here. Safe. The place I always dreamed about bringing Lena to.
I pull into the gravel driveway and park near the porch.
“This is it,” I say quietly.
She glances up at the house. “I remember this place.”
“Yeah?” I ask with a smile. “My grandpa left it to me when he passed.”
She nods as she scans the property, lingering on the big barn-style workshop out back.
“Come on. We can eat on the porch or inside. Your call.”
