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I’m sorry I never came back.
You were just a child, the room seemed to whisper back, and I sighed at my wishful thinking.
The place was tidy, but empty and stale. It smelled of disuse, of time standing still.
On a whim, I walked over to one window and cracked it open. Despite it being January and icy enough to steal a person’s breath, the fresh, cold air felt invigorating. It carried the crisp scent of snow, but it soon became too much, and I shut it immediately, shivering in my big coat. There was still no electricity, but Scott had left a message on my cell to say it would be up and running at some point today. When, I didn’t know, but I hoped that when we were connected everything worked.
Like the heating system for one thing.
“I’ll have that one.” Fox pointed down the corridor behind him.
“Cool.” I didn’t care where he was as long as it made him smile at some point. “We need to make a list of things we need.” Within a budget, of course. A tight-as-hell budget due to the whole ex-fucking-us-over thing. “Can you do it on your phone?” I gave him the responsibility he pretended not to want to, but then he pressed and poked at his screen until he had a notepad up. “A bed each,” I said, and he typed it in. “Bedding, a sofa, a chair, two side tables maybe.” Or we could use boxes until we were more settled—the rest of any money we had would be for the diner.
“And?” Fox pushed, and I felt like shit.
“That’s it for now on our budget. I’m so sorry, Fox, I wish…” What?That things were different. That your biological father had loved me enough to not hurt me or threaten you.
He bit his lip, and then maybe he read my expression, but his teenager act left the room, and he hugged me. “It’s okay, Dad. We don’t need anything else; we’ll make it work.”
Jesus, this kid killed me. He’d gone through his own emotions, and considered mine, all in the space of thirty seconds.
Then, he pulled back. “You get the smallest bedroom though.”
I fake-punched him. “Well, you do need somewhere for your gaming machine thing to go.”
He rolled his eyes at my description, but with clothes and other essentials, his gaming machine was all packed away ready to be delivered up here.
“I’ll need…” He paused and was so conflicted. “A desk, for homework and stuff. Just some wood and a couple of boxes or something.” My heart broke—his room back at the old house had a pod of desks, screens, his own freaking library, and what was I giving him? Nothing.
Apart from somewhere that, maybe, he could grow up and feel safe?
“We’ll get you a proper desk,” I decided instantly. After all, I needed nothing but a mattress and some bedding, and I’d even go without that if it meant he had somewhere to study. “Add it to the list.”
A gust of wind hit the windows, and I was thankful they were airtight, but still, a shiver ran through me. “Let’s check out the kitchen and the rest of the diner.”
We headed downstairs, splitting in different directions, Fox off to explore the back rooms, me to the kitchen beyond the hatch. It was clean, but the lack of any recent activity had left its mark. A thin layer of dust coated the stainless-steel surfaces, but ithadbeen a year at least since the last meal was cooked here so I didn’t expect spotless. The air was devoid of the familiar scents of grease and cooking, replaced instead by an icy cold when I touched the grill.
We needed blinds for the main front windows—too exposed in here when the lights were on—and I tugged off one glove to make a quick note on my phone.
Then, I put it straight back on again before I moved through the space, and my first instinct was to check what still worked. I turned the knobs on the stove, and to my relief, the gas hissed to life—so clearly, the propane tank was full—the burners igniting with a familiar blue flame. It was a small victory, but it felt significant today, and for a moment, I removed my heavy gloves and waved my hands near the heat before flicking it off.
Opening cupboards, I found them stocked with boxes of cutlery and stacks of plates, untouched and waiting. It was as if the place had simply paused, ready to spring back into action at a moment’s notice, and that was on me. Closing my eyes, I could almost hear the clatter of dishes, the hum of conversation from diners, and the rhythmic dance of a busy kitchen. For a brief moment, the inside was alive again in my mind, and that was what I wanted to achieve.
“No food or anything,” Fox reported, “but I found this, and it has your name on it.” He dumped a taped-up box on the prep area. Why would a box in a deserted diner have my name on it?
“Maybe the lawyers left it,” I mused, then used my car keys to saw through the tape before opening the lid to find it filled with various flyers from blue plate special deals, right up to a music event for the annual Spring Rains Festival. That particular flyer also featured a small addition for Whisper Ridge Pride with Lily’s Diner as the sponsor. Hell, I’d never heard of that—I mean, I’d heard of the Spring Rains Festival. I’d even attended once during one of my mom’s escaping-from-my-dad-and-his-latest-fling-last-minute vacations, but a specific Pride part that Aunt Lily had supported? Nope. I glanced at the window and the rainbow flag decal and smiled. Another note on my phone, just the one word,pride, and then I pocketed my cell and almost dropped it.
“They really have a music festival?” Fox asked, his tone dripping with doubt.
“It’s more of a trail thing, going from store to store, open gardens, stalls down Main with food and drink, that kind of thing. Some live music as well, I think.”
“Live music in the rain?” The doubt in his voice remained.
It was obvious I wasn’t selling it, but given I was a summer visitor and had only been in town once in spring, I had little to go on. I recalled Lily had taken part in the one I’d seen. Special cakes were all I recalled, a lot of flowers and music. I didn’t recall a Pride theme, but then, I’d been only ten, maybe even younger.
Something compelled me to defend the town. “It doesn’t rain for thewholeof spring.”
“So why the Spring Rains Festival?” He scowled at the flyer.
