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Guilty as charged.
***
No way to look for him before my shift is over, though, despite the urgency I feel in my bones. What’s up with that, huh? I’ve never been much for instinct and premonition.
It is what it is, though. Dena has already asked to leave early today and the diner is filling up with customers. The joint is jumping. Some folks have a birthday cake and are singing. Another group have taken up half the diner. A school reunion?
I wish I could call Ross, but I don’t have his phone number. Never thought about getting it, keeping in touch. If Ed and his asshole buddies passed through, I might ask them if they’ve seen him—“Have you happened to beat up Ross today guys? Been searching for him”—but they don’t come by.
And I don’t know who else might know Ross well enough to ask. Which is nuts. It’s such a small town everyone knows everyone, but he’s always kept mostly to himself. I’m only realizing it now, thinking back. The only people I’d say spent time with him were the garage mechanics where he spent his afternoons and worked sometimes growing up, but now the garage is closed and they’ve all scattered to other towns and cities.
A lone wolf, and the thought squeezes my chest.
God, Luna. Try to keep a cool head. Try to keep some mental distance, even if you can’t help but care. Remember to safeguard your heart.
The place is so busy it takes my mind off Ross and the mess in my head for a while. As I run to and fro, between the kitchen and the tables, waving Dena goodbye when she takes off, as I glance at all the happy, flushed faces, I think of my dad, and Josh.
And Ross.
Always back to Ross.
As my shift winds to an end and the customers file out, talking among themselves and laughing, as I wipe down the tables and counter and mop the floor while the cook finishes up in the kitchen, he’s all I can think about. My time-out is over.
The bad feeling is back, a knot of tension inside me.
I open the kitchen door to take out the trash and yelp when something small and furry brushes by my leg.
“Ohmygod.” The furry thing whines, then barks, a laugh-like sound, and I know who that is. “Buddy?”
He barks again, and pants, tongue lolling, while I fish some left-over burger from one of the trash bags and throw it at him. He sniffs at it, growls a little, and I leave him to it as I open the dumpster and throw the trash inside.
When I return, I find he hasn’t touched the burger piece.
“Not hungry? Are you sick?”
He comes to sniff the hand I put down, and licks his chops.
“You know, I’d never seen you around before Ross and I started talking. Weird, huh? Who are you, Buddy? An old soul?”
The moment I say it, a shiver goes through me. And then I giggle nervously, because, seriously, Luna? What, you believe in reincarnation now? That’s new.
An idea strikes me and I crouch down. “Hey, Buddy, you know how you led me to Ross once before? Think you can take me to him tonight?”
“Everything okay out there?” The cook pokes his head out the diner backdoor. “Who you talking to?”
“Just a stray dog.”
The cook shakes his head and withdraws.
“Buddy?”
He sits back and cocks his small head at me, stiff ears twitching. He’s watching me, soulful brown eyes meeting mine.
Then he stands up on all fours and trots off.
“Buddy! Come back here.”
He tosses me a look and seems to be winking at me. This dog... Infuriating, just like his human friend.
