“I don’t need charity,” Alex muttered, even as his body betrayed him by stepping toward the doorway. Pride was a luxury he couldn’t afford right now, but it still stung to accept handouts.
“Not charity. Call it my good deed for the day.” Wade’s smile was crooked, one side lifting higher than the other. Something about it seemed genuine, not the practiced kind that usually came with ulterior motives.
Alex weighed his options, which took approximately half a second because… food versus no food. His survival instincts overrode his pride.
“All right,” Alex conceded. “But I’m ordering the cheapest thing on the menu.”
“Order whatever you want.”
Inside, the diner buzzed with late evening activity. Silverware clinked against ceramic plates, conversations hummed at a comfortable volume, and somewhere a coffee machine hissed. The fluorescent lights felt harsh after hours in the darkness, making Alex blink as his eyes adjusted.
Wade led him to a booth near the back, sliding in across from Alex with easy familiarity, as if they’d done this a hundred times before. The vinyl seat squeaked under the man’s weight.
“So,” Wade began, those dark eyes studying him with uncomfortable intensity, “want to tell me why you’re wandering around town looking like you crawled out of a ditch?”
“Because I basically did.” Alex attempted a smile but suspected it looked more like a grimace. “I’m…between living situations at the moment.”
“Homeless,” Wade clarified, no judgment in his voice.
Alex hesitated. “Yeah. For now.” Better than admitting he’d fled a murder scene, leaving behind both his wallet and a cooling corpse. But it wasn’t entirely a lie. He was homeless considering the cops could be watching his place.
“Where’d you sleep last night?”
“Five-star accommodations in the local woods,” Alex replied dryly. “Very exclusive. The leaves make excellent blankets if you don’t mind waking up with bugs in your hair. But the view of the stars can’t be beat.”
A waiter approached, coffee pot in hand, his tired eyes brightening slightly at the sight of Wade.
“Back again? You must really love our pie,” he said, filling Wade’s empty mug without asking.
“Best in three counties,” Wade replied. “My friend here needs a menu. And coffee.”
The waiter—Dorian, according to his name tag—gave Alex an assessing look before setting down another mug. His gaze lingered on Alex’s disheveled appearance, the mud on his jeans, but said nothing as he poured the coffee and slid a laminated menu across the table.
“Thanks,” Alex mumbled, wrapping his cold fingers around the warm mug. The heat penetrated his chilled skin, a small comfort that felt disproportionately wonderful.
“Order whatever you want,” Wade repeated once Dorian had moved to another table.
Alex studied the menu, calculating which item would provide the most calories for the least cost. “Just a burger is fine.”
“And fries. And maybe a slice of that pie he mentioned.” Wade’s voice left little room for argument. “You look like you could use the calories.”
“What are you, my nutritionist?” The words came out harsher than Alex intended, but hunger and exhaustion had worn his social filter thin.
Wade just laughed, a surprisingly pleasant sound. “No, but I know what it’s like to be hungry.”
Something in his tone made Alex look up from the menu. Wade’s expression was unreadable, but for a moment, Alex glimpsed something behind those dark eyes. A shared understanding that made his chest tighten with recognition.
When Dorian returned, Wade gestured for Alex to order first.
“Cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate shake,” Alex said, abandoning his plan to order the cheapest item. If this was his one shot at a decent meal, he was going all in.
“Just coffee for me,” Wade added.
When the waiter left, Wade leaned forward slightly. “You can crash at my place tonight.”
Alex nearly choked on his water. “What?”
“Unless you prefer the five-star leaf accommodations.”
