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“The usual milkshakes,” Nick answers with his friendly smile. “And two bowls of wedges to share.”
“Too easy.” Mr. Brown smiles. “Anything else?”
“Not at the moment.”
He nods before collecting the menus and hobbling back to the kitchen.
Tracing patterns with my fingers, I drag my fingertip over the speckles of chipped paint and dents in the wood.
For as long as I remember, this has been what I wanted. A great group of friends, and Nick. It’s all I could think about. And now that I have it, everything I once thought was the most important thing in the world suddenly feels like it’s not enough.
This place. The people in it. It’s so small. Boring. Repetitive.
I feel like I’m losing my mind.
“Would any of you ever leave this place?” I randomly blurt, cutting John off mid-sentence without realising. For the past few weeks, I have been zoning out to the point I have no idea what is going on. Elise joked that I might be getting early Alzheimer’s disease.
Three sets of eyes swivel towards me.
“Leave Fern Grove?” Eric asks, placing his phone down in front of him.
“Yeah.”
“Why would you want to?” Nick frowns. “Everything you need is here. Friends, family, dependable work. A safe place to raise your kids.”
My mouth dries a little.
“It’s such a small town, though. Everyone knows everyone. Don’t you want to travel? See what else is out there?” Throwing my hair over my shoulders, I turn, leaning on my forearms. “We should all move to the city and share a house! We could go out every weekend and explore the city! Travel wherever we want!”
“That sounds expensive,” Nick says. “And I’m planning to take over my family’s business.”
“You could go for a few years and come back?”
“Why would I want to move to an overcrowded expensive city, where I would pay triple to have a tiny apartment instead of a nice house with a backyard? And why would I want to move away from everyone I love?” There’s a hint of anger in his voice—one of the rare moments Nick has shown anger—and I meet his eyes challengingly. This isn’t the first time I’ve mentioned this in the past few weeks. I can see the frustration behind his eyes.
I open my mouth to retort when Mr. Brown wanders back with an armful of milkshakes. The glasses clang on the table as he places them down.
“Wedges won’t be long,” he promises, sending the group a friendly wink.
“Did you see the circus is coming to the Ag Show this year?” Eric interjects, reaching for his phone. “I saw a flyer about it downtown. You guys want to go?”
He turns so that we can see the picture on his phone. Everyone murmurs in agreement, and I force a smile onto my face, ignoring how easy it is to be dismissed by them all.
Mr. Brown returns a moment later with our order, and I realise the usual sauce he brings me isn’t there.
“Happy with everything?” he asks.
“Sure are,” Nick says before I can protest. I narrow my eyes when I see him glance at the gravy, where the cup of sauce I like is usually beside it, before looking away.
Mr. Brown nods before taking the table number in his hand. His diner is mostly quiet as he only opens limited hours. He and his wife used to run the shop together, but since she’s passed, he can only handle so many days. People have offered to work for him, but he always claims he is happy with how it is.
The conversation continues, the earlier topic never mentioned again, and I stare at the faded clock on the wall, watching the hand slowly tick.
The bell above the front door chimes, and loud laughter and footsteps trickle in. I glance towards the sound, seeing Brennon and Harley strolling inside. Everyone collectively stiffens in their seats.
Brennon looks over at our table and grins, nudging Harley. Harley’s eyes—those stunning baby blues—settle over me. My pulse jumps, a shiver rolling down my spine. I’ve often found my eyes being drawn to Harley, and recently, he’s been staring right back.
“Oh, hey, it’s the freaks,” Brennon drawls, leaning across the table and swiping a wedge between his fingers. “And Elise.”
