Page 5 of Chasing Infinity

"And not to mention if I go back to 'before' as you say," I twitch my fingers into quotations, still on a roll, "I'm knowingly putting Addison back in danger. Or have you forgotten what happened to her parents when my father thought I was onto him the last time?"

He narrows his eyes at me. "I haven't forgotten."

I lean back into the chair. "My point. I don't want anything to happen to her. She's suffered enough because of me."

"We'll just have to play it a certain way. Like I told you, Addie is in some sort of weird arrangement with Eli. Let's just let that come to a head, so you don't have to worry about that. Just stay away from her. If your father doesn't think she means anything to you anymore, there won't be a problem."

My chest squeezes tightly. Visuals of wide hazel eyes come to mind, and I frown. "I'm not sure if I can promise that."

"You can't just stay away from her for a little longer? I thought that wouldn't be much to ask of you." I glare at him at his unspoken words, and his eyebrows heighten.

"It's asking a lot for me to pretend that she's not everything to me, Charlie," I growl.

"You're hung up on her still, then?" I remain silent, which is answer enough. "Okay, whatever. Just try," he pleads with me. "I don't want to see Addie hurt any more than you do. She's my best friend."

"Why do I feel like I'm just a pawn in your game here?"

"Because that's what I need you to be right now," Charlie says bluntly, holding my eyes with a heavy stare. "We'll get him, Noah. We will. I promise you that."

Chapter 2

Addison

“Good morning, Jack!” I say as I bound down the stairs into the diner. My opening manager looks at me as soon as I step out on the floor with a grin and a nod of his head.

“Good morning. Going out for a run?”

“Yeah,” I acknowledge, walking over to the register and popping it open to check the on-hand cash. “Think you can handle everything here for about an hour or so? I’ll just do a quick one, and then I’ll come back and get cleaned up to help you with the morning rush.”

“It’s fine, Addie. I’ve been running this shift for the last year. I think I got it covered,” Jack says, his expression telling me that he has everything under control. I do my best to keep the micromanager part of myself hidden, but he can see right through me. I’m grateful that Jack is proficient at managing me just as much as he can manage the diner.

I opened this diner about five years ago once everything finally got back in order after the fire which burned it down. The building used to be my parents’ café. Given the history, it took me a while to be comfortable setting foot in the place. This wasn’t what I had ever imagined my life would turn out to be: Addison Parks, Small Town Diner Owner—but here we are. I know my parents would have been proud to see what I’ve accomplished if they were still alive, and that’s all that matters to me.

It took a few months for business to steadily pick up around here, but my best friend Grace and I worked our asses off to build it to what it is today. And now, it’s hard for me to release the reigns sometimes to let my capable staff take over.

“Okay, okay,” I concede with an amused smile. “I’ll be back in an hour. I have my phone if anything happens, so you can call—”

“Leave, Addison,” Jack orders me with a chuckle. I close the register and hold my hands up in surrender. “Fine, I’m leaving. Call me if you need me.”

As I head out, a familiar older woman walks into the diner and gives me a wide smile. “Good morning Addison.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Hawley,” I greet her with a grin before turning back to Jack, who’s standing behind the counter watching our exchange. “Jack, make sure you don’t forget Mrs. Hawley’s favorite scone this morning on the house!”

“Oh, thank you, dear,” Mrs. Hawley pats my shoulder. “You’re always too kind to me.”

“My pleasure,” I say, smiling back at her. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

With that, I finally make it out of the diner. I stand on the sidewalk and fiddle with the watch on my wrist, programming it to start tracking my workout. I pull up my favorite playlist and take off as soon as the beat hits my ears. My feet thrum against the pavement as the scenery flashes by. I wave every once in a while at some of my regular customers when they see me. I make my rounds, keeping pace with the music. My morning run is my favorite way to ensure that my day starts on the right foot—no pun intended.

The sun is slower to come up around this time of the year. This means I get to see the full glory of the sunrise in person rather than behind the front windows of my diner. Watching the sun rise is something that I value as part of my regular routine. Days that I actually get to see it are generally better than days that I don’t. I try not to think about the more significant meaning of it now that Noah’s back in town, forcing my brain to focus on other things.

Unfortunately, though, a thin blanket of clouds covers the sky this morning. The sun reflects off them as it peeks over the horizon, emitting a warm golden-pink glow. As the sun rises a little higher, its rays bounce off the trees illuminating the changing colors of the leaves. Everything in the fall is cozy and comforting despite the ever-constant loom of winter around the corner.

My watch vibrates against my wrist as I round my last block and come to a stop in front of Monty’s Market. I slow my pace to catch my breath as I sync my watch to my activity log. A sheen of sweat is playing across my forehead, and I wipe it off with my long sleeve running shirt. Movement in my peripheral vision snags my attention, and I frown. Next to me, parked against the curb, is a shoddy old beater of a car. I usually wouldn’t pay it any mind, but I’m positive I saw something move in the back seat.

I pause for a second, debating what I should do. Making up my mind, I take a deep breath and step closer, noting that someone is sleeping in the back of this car. Curious now, I get close enough to peer into the window. My jaw hinges open as soon as I do, the muscles in my face going slack.

There’s Noah, curled up in the back seat of his car, a pathetic torn-up blanket thrown over his shoulders that doesn’t reach past his knees. He’s bent at an odd angle, his height clearly not allowing him to find a comfortable position in such a compact space.

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