❝he burns like the nicotine that coats your lungs and the liquor sliding down your throat, but you can't leave him. you swear to yourself that you will, one day, but you're not ready to let this go. he's not good for you, and you know it, but you ca...
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MILAN HELD HER CIGARETTE out the window of her old Mustang, red paint tainted by dirt and scratches. It had been her father's; Milan couldn't bring herself to get rid of it. There were too many good memories, too much to hold onto. And Milan wasn't good at letting things go.
The radio was playing some pop song the girl couldn't care less about, but she bobbed her head robotically, keeping her eyes on the road. She had been driving for almost eight hours, the trek from Orlando, Florida to Ann Arbor, Michigan a long and tiring one. She had already ganked one demon this week, and hoped the case she was chasing was a salt and burn, an easy hunt. Maybe she could go to the bar afterwards, meet a cute college guy, maybe go back to his place. But she couldn't think about that, because she didn't want her work to be sloppy.
She saw a little roadside diner in the distance, making her aware of her growling stomach. Milan pulled over, stepping carefully out of the car and dropping her cigarette on the pavement, stepping on it.
The place was charming; stainless steel countertops and red cushions. The waitresses were older woman, all wrinkles and grey hairs escaping from their loose buns.
"Hello, darlin'," the woman at the counter spoke, a southern accent evident in her voice. "Follow me." She led her to a table, the booth cleaned pristinely. The waitress placed a menu in front of her and smiled. "Would you like somethin' to drink?"
"Just a water, please," Milan gave the woman a smile, tucking chestnut hair behind her ear and opening the menu. She'd really like a beer, but she was going to be driving for quite a while, and she didn't want her legacy to end with a car crash. The waitress nodded, walking away.
Just as she'd had a moment to breathe, her pocket began to vibrate, the sound bringing her out of her relaxed state. People didn't call her much these days; it was probably Ellen, Jo, or Ash, or maybe-
"Hey, beautiful," The voice on the other end of the line caused Milan to roll her eyes.
"What do you want, Robbie?"
"I'm doing a case in Wilmington. You wanna meet up? I'm staying at the-" Milan wasn't going to listen to this. She wasn't going to be a convenience to Robbie; not anymore. She had been okay with it when she was grieving, when she needed a distraction from her father's death.
"Stop it right there," She began. "I'm not going to be some kind of convenient hook up for you anymore. So no, Robbie." Robbie Amell was a hunter; one that had tried to get out of the life one too many times. He was a hell of a shot, and he was good at stitching up wounds. He was sweet and charming, and that's what had pulled Milan in at first. They had met on a Wraith case in Salt Lake City. That was the first time they'd hooked up, and they kept doing it. Whenever they were close to each other, they made it work. But it never went past that. A relationship would be too hard to maintain, even if they started hunting together for good.
