Runaway Love

Chapter 7

Los Angeles, California

Finally their table was clearing out.

Jayceon stood first, stretching like he'd just woken up from a nap. "That hit the spot, Auntie," he called toward the kitchen. "Might make this a weekly tradition."

"You better tip like it's one," Ms. Loretta hollered back.

David and Chris followed, cracking jokes as they headed for the door. The kind of loud, familiar laughter that let you know they'd been boys since forever.

I started wiping down their table without thinking, stacking plates, scooping up crumpled napkins, resetting sugar packets. Same rhythm I always had.

But then I noticed it—felt it, really.

One of them hadn't left yet.

I looked up.

Ermias was still sitting there, elbows on the table, fingers laced together like he had nowhere to be. He met my eyes and then stood, slow and steady.

He didn't smile.

Didn't need to.

"I'll see you around," he said.

His voice was soft, not heavy—but it carried.

I swallowed, nodding once. "You might."

He looked past me, toward Kam in the booth, then back again. His eyes softened just a bit.

"You take care," he added, like it meant more than just goodbye.

And then he turned and walked out.

No lingering glance, no trying to draw it out.

Just quiet.

And gone.

The bell above the door jingled behind him, and the sound echoed longer than it should've.

I stood there for a second, dish rag in my hand, heart beating louder than before.

I wasn't sure why.

But I knew something had shifted.

The clock above the coffee station ticked louder the closer it crept toward 3:30.

Every few minutes I checked it, hoping I was wrong, hoping time was slower than it felt. But no. It kept pushing forward, relentless, just like everything else in my life.

I wiped down another table, refilled a regular's coffee, checked on Kam, and still—it was only 3:15.

Fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes before Mr. Williams shut his office door for the day.

Fifteen minutes before I'd be too late to hand him a rent envelope that I'd only just scraped together from two night shifts, tips, and whatever I had left after groceries.

My chest felt tight.

Kam was still sitting in the booth, now slumped sideways, coloring lazily. He hadn't asked for anything in a while. He was getting tired, and I couldn't blame him.

I took one more breath and walked over to the back, poking my head into the kitchen.

Ms. Loretta caught the shift in my face before I could even say the words.

She turned from the stove, eyes narrowing slightly. "What's wrong, baby?"

"I... I need to step out for a bit. Just for like thirty minutes. I gotta run and take care of something before it gets too late."

She gave me a once-over. Not judging. Just reading.

"You alright?"

"I will be. I promise I'll be right back."

She came around the counter and gave Kam a little smile as she wiped her hands on her apron. "You need me to watch him, don't you?"

I nodded, already feeling the twist in my stomach. "Just for a little while. I have to drop off the rent before Mr. Williams closes the office. I'll be back as soon as I can."

She crouched beside Kam's booth. "You wanna hang out with me in the kitchen, sugar? Maybe help me stir up some cornbread batter?"

Kam perked up immediately. "Can I wear the little hat again?"

Ms. Loretta laughed. "Only if you promise to be my sous-chef and not my boss."

He nodded solemnly like it was a sacred vow.

I bent down and kissed his forehead. "You listen, okay? Be good."

"I always am," he said with a little smile.

"I know, baby." I turned to Ms. Loretta. "Thank you. For real."

She just waved me off like it was nothing. "Go on. You know I got him. And you better walk fast."

I didn't waste another second.

The door jingled behind me as I stepped out, and the air was heavier now, thick with that after-the-rain chill that sticks to your skin.

My legs moved fast, bag tight across my shoulder, the envelope pressing against my side like a second heartbeat.

All I could think was—Get there. Don't be late. Not today.

It started with a soft sprinkle—barely a mist at first, like the clouds hadn't made up their mind.

But by the time I made it to the bus stop, the chill had crept into my sleeves, and the drizzle had turned steady enough to dot the sidewalk in dark splotches.

I glanced down the street.

No bus.

Checked my phone. Still had time... barely.

I shifted from foot to foot, heart knocking harder now. The rain always made everything worse—slower, colder, heavier. And today wasn't the day for slower.

A man in a windbreaker next to me sighed, pulling his hood up. "Heard there was a wreck over on Jefferson. Some delivery truck jackknifed near the light. Buses all backed up."

I turned to him, eyes wide. "How long of a delay?"

He shrugged like it wasn't life or death. "Could be ten minutes. Could be thirty. Depends if they cleared it."

Thirty minutes?

I felt my stomach drop.

I clenched the strap of my bag tighter, fingers brushing the envelope inside like I needed proof it was still there.

Please don't let this happen. Not today.

I checked the time again—3:20.

Mr. Williams said he closed at 3:30. Sharp.

Three minutes.

I looked down the street again. Still no sign of that rusted blue-and-white city bus rounding the corner. No rumble. No hope.

I felt it coming—the hot, invisible hand that crept up my neck, squeezed my ribs, made it hard to breathe.

Rain kissed my eyelashes, and for a second, I blinked fast to keep it from mixing with something else.

You can't cry here. You can't.

The man beside me shuffled his feet, shaking his head. "Always when you got somewhere to be, huh?"

I gave a tight nod but didn't speak.

Inside my chest, panic stirred like a storm.

And still... no bus.