One Last Time- Jordan Knight Fanfic

Two

Kate

I step outside, looking one way and then the other, feeling more disappointed than surprised when I don't see him. I check my phone again, but it's just as silent as it has been all night. Well aware of the time, I feel no guilt when I find his number in my list of saved favorite contacts and push a call through. I listen to it ring until I'm dropped into his voicemail, and I mutter a curse under my breath before I end the call. I don't bother leaving a message.

"Hey, need a ride?"

I whip my head around as Gary walks through the door. Having clocked out for the morning, he's in only his black slacks and a gray beater, his black button-up now draped over his shoulder. I offer him a half-hearted smile, my eyes admiring his bare arms in a fleeting glance.

He's covered in ink, three-quarter-length sleeves decorating each arm. It suits him; though, the patrons who frequent the bar are none the wiser. Short sleeves aren't exactly part of the dress code around here.

"He comin'?" he asks, stopping beside me before gently nudging me with his elbow.

"He's not answering," I mutter, lifting my phone before dropping it into my bag.

"Come on. I'll take you home." He shoves his hands into his pockets and then juts out his elbow, signaling for me to take it.

I flash him another half smile as I loop my arm through his.

We don't speak as we make our way along the quiet street, headed for his car. I appreciate his silence. More than that, I appreciate his lack of judgment. That's always been Gary. Hard on the outside, rough around the edges, but warm, kind, and gooey on the inside. This isn't the first time he's offered to take me home after our late shift. Not the first. Not the second. And as much as I want to proclaim that it'll be the last, I'm sure it won't be.

If it wasn't so late, I'd walk to the Light Rail, which drops me a couple of blocks away from the loft—but it is late, and I've missed the last train.

"You scheduled for tomorrow?" he asks after we've both climbed into his blue, '99 Mustang.

I lean my head back against the seat rest and sigh. "Yeah. Same shift. Six to close. You?"

"Not until Thursday," he replies, adjusting the volume on his stereo.

"Lucky you. What are you going to get into?"

Shifting his eyes off the road for a moment, he grins over at me before he says, "Takin' Hope to see Bruno Mars tonight. It's a surprise."

"Seriously?" I ask, remembering how much his girlfriend loves Bruno.

He chuckles, offering me a slow nod.

"You deserve a high five for that," I insist, holding up my hand.

"Damn right, I do," he says, slapping his palm against mine.

"Now I know why you needed the next two nights off," I say teasingly.

Smiling at the windshield, he asks, "Why's that?"

"You are totally getting laid."

His smile stretches into a grin before he holds up his hand again.

Laughing, I clap my palm against his in another high five. "She's lucky to have you, Gary. I mean it."

Glancing over at me, I notice his smile slip before he mutters, "That fucker's lucky to have you, too, Kate."

I press my lips together, turning to look out the passenger-side window. I don't come to Lance defense like I usually do. Not this morning. I'm too tired. Too fed up. Too disappointed to plead his case. It's always the same. He's just a little eccentric. He's an artist. He's passionate. He gets lost sometimes—but he loves me.