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“I’m fine, Dad.” Or I would be if he’d let me go. Because seriously, I couldn’t deal with tingles on top of mortifying coffee splatters. Not that I wasn’t used to the eternal stains that were part of being a waitress at the diner. It just seemed extra embarrassing in front of Seth.
He flipped my hands palms up then coasted the pads of his fingers over the tops. “All good.”
I curled my fingers into my palms. “Told you. The only casualty is my Chucks.”
He glanced around the garbage to my shoes. “Yeah, they’re toast.”
“No, I’ll just use them as my new mopping shoes.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“Nothing.” The little wrinkle between his brows cleared as he noticed Mrs. Diggs in the booth. “Aren’t you looking lovely, Mrs. Diggs? New workout gear?”
“Charmer.” But she preened and smoothed her bejeweled hand over the expensive designer Adidas jacket in the same orange and white of her shoes. “Nice to see someone watching after our Alison though.”
“Always.”
“Oh, brother.” I turned to the counter lined with red vinyl stools and collapsed into one to take stock of my situation.
Most of the coffee had hit the floor and my shoes, so I guess that was something at least. I stalked down the aisle and inwardly groaned at the squeak of my rubber soles. I hustled to the carpet in front of the door and scuffed my feet. I could actually feel the coffee squishing inside my shoes.
Ugh.
My life—up to my ankles in crap coffee. Of course.
I went around behind the counter to take care of the pile of towels Sage had left. “What’s up, Seth? You don’t usually come in this late.”
“I actually have some papers for you.”
My gaze swung back to him. He nodded to the back of the diner where he always sat. “Can you take a few minutes?”
It was only then that I noticed the folder in his hand. The white Hamilton Realty logo scrawled across the dense green glossy folder. My stomach twisted for a whole different reason this time.
Mom’s house.
My house.
What could have been my house if it wasn’t full of shitty memories and the stench of too much antiseptic. I closed my eyes as a wave of exhaustion chased the sad. It had been three months since my mom had finally passed away after a soul-crushing bout with cancer. She’d always been fragile, but the last five years had about killed me too.
By the end, all I wanted was peace for her.
And maybe a little for myself. I only let that part out in the deepest, darkest parts of the night where sleep and waking overlapped. When the quiet was finally comforting and the hiss of the oxygen compressor wasn’t my constant companion for the first time in too many years to remember.
But then the alarm pushed me out of the quiet and into my current reality. Bills, life, the diner, plans…all jumbled together in my little planner. And the little secret pocket where I’d stashed the page of classes I wanted to take. I had sent off for a few brochures from schools in New York City, and I looked at them now and then.
It had been so long since I could think about what I wanted that I honestly wasn’t quite sure what to do. But it didn’t stop me from poring over my brochures and the college catalog online.
Too bad dreams didn’t pay the bills.
I pressed a shaking hand over my belly. “Yeah. Let me make sure I can take my fifteen.”
I hurried over to the sink. My rings clicked together as I soaped up my hands to get the coffee smell off them. “Mitch, I’m going to take my break.”
He only grunted. Typical.
“Sage, you okay?”
