I nod, even though something in me is already pulling back. “Yeah.”
I step out and look at the entrance, hesitating before I go inside, since I’ve only ever entered through the back.
Inside, people sit at tables with napkins placed neatly on their laps, and it’s like we’re not in Tar City at all. I forget sometimes that in this pocket of streets, just blocks away from everything falling apart, people live like this,people like Jax.We sit across from each other, menus between us.
“Jax, I can’t?—”
“It’s on me,” he says. “Order whatever you want. I’m definitely trying your loaded fries.”
I look down at the food options, but I’m not reading it. The kitchen doors swing open and I can’t help but look. I shift in my seat, suddenly aware of where I am.Of which side I’m on.
Jax reaches for my hand and I flinch before I can stop myself. “Jax.”
He pulls back just as the waitress arrives.
“What can I get you tonight?” she asks, polite, professional, her eyes moving between us with quiet curiosity.
“I’ll take a whiskey,” Jax says.
She looks at him frowning.
“I’m eighteen,” he adds.
Her expression doesn’t change. “Of course.”
“And for you?” she asks me.
“Water,” I say.
She nods, jotting it down. “Are you ready to order, or would you like a few more minutes?”
Jax glances at me. “Give us a minute.”
“Of course.” She steps away.
I look at him.
“We can just order everything,” Jax says. “You don’t have to choose.”
I blink. “What? Jax—no.” My voice cracks.
“It’s fine, Sisk.”
“It is not fine.” My voice rises before I can stop it. I close the menu just as the waitress returns.
“Are we ready?” she asks.
Jax doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I’ll take the ribeye, medium. And the fries—the loaded ones. Bring two.”
“And for you?” the waitress asks.
“I’ll have the grilled chicken,” I say quickly. “Please.”
“Of course.” She gathers the menus and leaves.
I look back at him. “You can’t say things like that.”
“Like what?”
