Page 17

I went back that night.

Cole apologized. Said he'd been stressed. Said it would never happen again, but it happened again two weeks later.

"Where are you taking me?" I ask.

Gabriel is quiet for a moment. Then admits, "I have no idea. I just wanted to get you out of there."

The honesty shouldn't be comforting. Should probably be alarming, getting into a car with a man who just admitted he has no plan. But somehow it's the most reassuring thing anyone's said to me in months.

"Are you hungry?" he asks.

I blink. "What?"

"Hungry. Have you eaten?" He checks the dashboard clock. "It's after ten. You just worked a full shift. I'm guessing you didn't take a real break."

He's right. I had half a granola bar around three and a cup of stale coffee around seven. My stomach has been twisted in knots all evening anticipating Cole's arrival.

Now that the immediate danger has passed, the adrenaline is wearing off and hunger is taking its place.

"I could eat," I admit.

"I know a place." Gabriel takes the next right. "Twenty-four hour diner. Best pancakes in town. Owner's a friend."

"It's ten-thirty at night."

"Pancakes don't have a schedule."

Despite everything, despite my swollen cheek, shaking hands and the fact that my boyfriend is unconscious in a parking lot somewhere, I almost smile.

"Pancakes sound good," I say.

The diner is called Rosie's. Small, dated, the kind of place that probably hasn't updated its decor since the nineties. Red vinyl booths. Checkered floor. A jukebox in the corner that's definitely not functional.

Only a handful of customers at this hour. An elderly couple sharing pie. A trucker nursing coffee at the counter. Two teenagers in a corner booth who look like they're having the kind of intense conversation that only happens when you're that age.

Gabriel holds the door open for me. I walk in and immediately feel exposed, like everyone is staring at my swollen cheek, my work clothes, my obvious distress.

A waitress approaches. Older woman, warm smile, name tag that reads **DONNA**. She takes one look at Gabriel and grins.

"Well, well. The prospect graces us with his presence." She gestures toward an empty booth. "Your usual spot?"

"If it's available."

"For you? Always." Donna grabs two menus and leads us to a booth in the back corner. Private. Away from the windows. "Coffee?"

"Please," Gabriel says. Then looks at me. "You want coffee?"

"Hot chocolate," I say. "If you have it."

"Sweetie, we have everything." Donna's smile is genuine. Kind. She hasn't mentioned my cheek but I see her glancing at it. "I'll get that started. You two need a minute with the menu?"

"Pancakes," Gabriel says. "Two stacks. Bacon."

Donna nods and disappears without asking for clarification. I slide into the booth, and Gabriel sits across from me.

"You come here a lot?" I ask.

"Few times a week. Donna's good people. Won't ask questions you don't want to answer."