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“That’s what I said!” Keith said in exasperation as he slowed to climb up in a chair at the table, where Jagger was now laying out the food.
“People are going to think I cuss around him all the time.”
Grey bit down on her bottom lip, but the corners of her mouth still lifted. “We can just blame Jagger.”
“Heard that,” he called out without lifting his head.
“Again, anyway,” Grey began, drawing out the word. “I was talking to Mama while I was waiting for our food, and she mentioned needing another person or two at the café. I might have said something about you being back and in need of a job. One thing led to another, and . . . surprise?” she said uneasily when my face fell.
“You got me a job at Mama’s Café?”
“Uh . . . yes?” When I didn’t respond, she hurried to say, “If you don’t want to work there, you don’t have to forever. But it’s something while you try to find a job somewhere in Thatch or around here. Or you don’t have to work there at all; I can talk to Mama. I just thought since you pretty much got me the job at The Brew, I would—”
“No! No, it’s fine!” I said quickly, and smiled in an attempt to appease her. “I appreciate it, thank you. You’re right; I need something and it’s always hit or miss with trying to find openings around here. So again, thank you.”
Grey still looked worried, like maybe she’d done something she shouldn’t have.
“I think working at Mama’s will be great!” I said more sincerely. “I’ll call down there after breakfast and see when she wants me to come in.”
“Um . . . well, she asked if you could come in tomorrow before ten so you don’t get slammed with a breakfast or lunch rush right away.”
So soon. It felt like I had no time to prepare for being surrounded by people I wasn’t used to. Had no time to prepare for what I had been attempting to avoid since I’d moved back to Thatch. For who I had been attempting to avoid.
Mama’s only grandchild, and someone who frequented Mama’s Café: Deacon Carver.
I forced my smile to remain, and nodded in acknowledgment. “Perfect.”
Deacon
May 29, 2016
“IT’S MY FAVORITE part of the week!” I boomed as I watched one of my best friends and his fiancée climb out of his truck. “I get to feed Harlow!”
Knox’s fiancée shook her head but smiled affectionately. “What do you mean week, this is nearly a daily thing,” Harlow called out.
“Dude. I’m feeding her,” Graham said, and shoved at my arm as we walked across the parking lot.
“You both realize by now that she feeds herself, right?” Knox asked once we were closer.
I scoffed. “No. Pretty sure we feed her.”
“She isn’t a baby.”
“She also needs to fit into her wedding dress,” Harlow butted in, and kissed both Graham’s and my cheeks in greeting. “So no more putting extra food on my plate.”
“You’re no fun,” I grumbled.
“Warriors need extra food,” Graham added, his tone making it clear that he had no plans to stop.
As if we would no matter what Harlow or Knox said.
Underweight couldn’t begin to describe Harlow when she’d come back into our lives nearly a year ago. At death’s door was a better description.
Beaten, but not broken. Literally skin and bones, but as Graham always said, still a fucking warrior. Bravest and strongest girl I knew, and Graham and I had taken it upon ourselves to get Harlow back to a healthy weight.
Didn’t matter that she was nearly there, I doubted either of us would ever stop feeding her. The memory of her bleeding out in our kitchen and barely able to stand after running from her psychotic and abusive husband was burned into my memory, as I knew it was Graham’s.
“Let’s just eat, I’m starving,” Knox said as he pulled Harlow against his side and led her into Mama’s Café.
