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Laughing, he tugged me in closer. “I think I can handle a lack of blankets. But you know what might be tough?”
“What’s that?”
“If I didn’t get an Eggo in the morning.”
I laughed. Guessed I was never going to live that down. “How about breakfast at a little diner down the street instead?”
“Even better than an Eggo.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
DECLAN
The walk to the diner the next morning was a little awkward, as everything with Brooke seemed to be. I’d tried to ease it by bringing up her bookshelves, and that got her talking. As she did, my hand found hers, and she stopped talking. She stared down at our hands cupped together, breaths practically stopping.
But she didn’t let go.
“Where’d you say you got them again?” I dragged her attention back to me.
She swallowed, but rather than let go, she twined her fingers through mine. Clearing her throat, she said, “This little flea market down the road.”
“Do you know if they’re open today?” I asked.
“I think, yeah.”
“Do you want to go check it out after we eat?”
Brooke held my gaze for a few long moments. Her heart rate slowed the longer we looked at one another. “Are flea markets your thing?”
“I love a bargain.” I gave a smile. “But we don’t have to if you’re not feeling it.”
Another moment of eye contact that probably shouldn’t have been so intense over a simple trip to the flea market.
Eventually, she smiled. “Sure. Let’s do it.”
* * *
“You eat here a lot?” I asked.
Brooke nodded, half her face covered by the mug of coffee before her. “Twice a week, usually.”
I glanced around the little place. It was cute in a simple way. Typical red leather seats, silver bar stools, a cook flipping pancakes behind it. “Seems like a convenient place to have right around the corner.”
“It is. There’s a Waffle House a few blocks over, and the food’s just as good, but I like it here better.” A sweet smile lifted her lips. “Me and Ria came here a lot as kids. The old owner used to let us fill salt and pepper shakers for a burger and a milkshake.”
“Oh, this is where you grew up?”
“Mostly.” Another casual sip of her coffee. “Dad had connections to people everywhere around here. He got cheap rent. As shitty as it may be, I always loved walking through the streets again when we got back from the foster homes.”
I didn’t mean for it to, but my face must’ve shown my surprise, and Brooke’s showed the same.
It wasn’t a shock that she’d been in foster care. I imagined most of the people living in this neighborhood were in and out of it frequently. That also explained why she was so close with her sister, and why her sister wasn’t in the best place.
Growing up in the slums is like living within a virus. Some manage to evade its grasp, and others become encompassed by it. The disease of the environment has a way of invading almost everyone who resides there.
“I’m sorry.” Brooke blinked a few times, wiping coffee from the edge of her lip. “I don’t know why that just came out.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for.” I gave a smile. “So this is home then.”
