Page 9 of Between Now and Forever
“I don’t scream.”
His lips twist to hide a smile. “Good to know.”
Oof. I walked right into that one without realizing it.Change the subject.
“Can I at least get your name since you just saved my life?” I ask.
“Jay.”
“Okay, Jay.” I smile. “Thank you for being nothing short of amazing.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see if I can catch the snake once you’re inside.”
I glance over my shoulder. “Please find it.”
“I’ll try.”
We face one another as if there’s more to say. But the fact is, there’s not. I’ve humiliated myselftwicein front of him. I’ve said enough. And God knows I’ve done too much.
He runs a hand over his chin. “You better go.”
“Yeah.” I take a deep breath, not wanting to walk away from him ... but knowing I must. “I’ll bring your shirt over after I wash it.”
“Whatever.”
The browns in his irises overtake the green, then the gold. The color changes right before my eyes. And with the progression comes a shift in Jay back to the standoffish stranger he was when he arrived.
“Thanks again,” I say, giving him a half smile.
He nods and then turns away.
I clutch the towel to my chest and take myself—and my failed dignity—back inside.
Maybe I’ll have two glasses of wine with my bath.
CHAPTER THREE
JAY
Sorry about that.” Taylor holds a serving tray in one hand and a drink pitcher in the other. What appears to be a ketchup stain marks her university sweatshirt. “Things get nuts when the Alden Social Club comes in on Friday nights.”
My buddy Lark tosses his napkin on the table. “I hope when I’m retired, my wild Friday nights don’t include a fish sandwich at Betty Lou’s Diner.”
“What are you talking about?” I say, laughing. “It’s Friday night. You’re here.” I point at his plate. “And you just finished a—”
“Fish sandwich,”he says, shaking his head. “Damn it.”
I laugh, raising my pop to my lips and taking a drink.
Betty Lou’s Diner, the preeminent eatery in Alden—and the only one open after four—is bustling. All thirteen tables and five stools at the counter have been occupied since Lark and I arrived an hour ago, and Taylor, Betty Lou’s granddaughter, hasn’t stopped moving.
I wandered into the diner on my first day in town nearly four years ago. It had a bright-green wreath on the door and a welcome sign that felt like an invitation to enter. And since I knew no one in town and had nowhere to go besides back to my rental to unpack, I figured I’d give it a shot.
It’s been an almost daily occurrence ever since.
“What about you, Jay?” Taylor asks. “Do you need anything else?”
I set my glass down. “No. I’m good.”
