Burn Into Me (Into Me Series Book Two)

Chapter Twenty Nine - F E R A L

I push open the door to the diner. Instantly the smell of coffee and bacon hits me, followed by bright laughter at the counter. Have you ever walked into someone's house and immediately felt at peace? Or, have you met one of those people that you can't help but be happy around because they are a literally walking rainbow? Yeah, that's how this place feels. Warm, safe, accepting, kinda like home.

"Hi there, honey! Give me just one second, I'll get yah seated," an older blonde tells me, her hair done up in pin-curls and a tray balanced on her hand and shoulder.
"Thank you! Take your time!" I tell her, smiling and admiring her balancing skills. I could never be a waitress. I would drop everyone's shit all of the time and they would just end up angry with me. I would be a walking liability.
"Hey, Jet!" a familiar voice calls.
I look to my right to see Larry standing there, waving and smiling at me. I raise my hand and wave back, walking over toward him. "Hey, thanks so much for agreeing to meet with me," I tell him, reaching my hand out to shake his.
"Not a problem. If there's one thing that you should know about me, it's that I will find pretty much any excuse to come here and eat breakfast food," he smiles.
"Ugh, greasy, diner-made, breakfast food is my favorite," I agree, sitting down in the booth across from Larry.

"Coffee?" the blonde woman asks in her thick southern accent.
"Please," I reply.
She pours some into the mug set out for me, "Some sugar, sugar?"
This makes me laugh. "No, I'm okay, thank you so much though."
"Have you been here before, darling?" she asks, returning the coffee carafe to the warmer.
"Uh no, actually," I admit, glancing down at the menu.
"Well, Larry here always gets two eggs sunny side up, two bacon, two sausage, two flapjacks, two pieces of toast, and some hash browns," she tells me. "But we can whip up just about anything your pretty little brain could imagine."
"Can I please just get some French toast? Whatever you recommend," I ask.
"Oh, baby, we make the best coffee cake French toast! I'll get you some, you sit tight," she says, clearly very jazzed by the idea of me having this French toast. She speeds off toward the kitchen, a pep in her step.

I decide that I love her and that I will drag Jackson here even if the food is shit just to see her again.

Ah, fuck. Jackson.

"Thank you, Gladys!" Larry calls after her.
"You got it, baby!" Gladys yells back over her shoulder.
Larry clears his throat, "So, I was quite surprised to get a phone call from you at five in the morning."
"Yeah... I'm sorry about that. In hindsight, not my best move," I laugh, rubbing the back of my neck.
"What's going on, Jet?" he asks sincerely, raising his eyebrows at me.

He has a kind face. Soft, blue eyes. Bushy eyebrows. Salt and pepper hair. A scruffy beard. Not skinny but not fat, a perfect teddy bear-like size. Something about him just makes me want to spill my guts, tell him every thought that races through my head, breakdown and fall apart, and bare my soul to him. I want to talk to him, but it feels like the words are cement in my mouth that has hardened and keeps my jaw in place.

"If you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to. Just figured I would offer a shoulder to cry on. You seem like you need it," he explains. "Let's talk job instead."
"I had a miscarriage," I blurt suddenly, my hands flying to cover my mouth. Oh my god... did I really just do that?!
"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry," he says lowly, his expression softening.
"I don't know why I just blurted that to you... I'm so sorry," I stumble, a warm and flush feeling coming to my face as I move my hands to my cheeks and then to the table in front of me.
"No, don't be. I asked," he says. I nod slowly and try my best not to start crying again. "Was it recent?"
"Two weeks ago," I mumble, rubbing my arms. I accidentally run my hand across one of the deep bruises that still lingers, causing me to flinch.
"What happened?" he presses.
"I have no idea why I'm telling you all of this," I choke, laughing a few times and blinking rapidly so I don't start crying. "Usually it takes people like 5-10 business days to even get my favorite color out of me, let alone me baring soul to you."
"Kiddo, what happened?" he asks softly.