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The McDonald’s I picked is a twenty-four-hour one. Thank god. It’s newish on the inside, and I stare at the wood-look plastic tabletop at my booth. My ass is aching. The booth seats are contoured to make them more comfortable to sit on – but not for almost nine hours. They’re plastic. They’re supposed to be for transitory eaters.
The dark eyes of the cashier meet mine, her brows drawing down into a frown. Damn it. They told me when I first came in and asked to use the phone that I could stay here, but I had to keep purchasing things. I tried a drink – free refills… yay – but that wasn’t enough. So, I’ve slowly been using the last of my cash to buy items from the dollar menu. They make me get something at least once every hour.
Sighing, I climb to my feet, my ass and back muscles protesting, my last six dollars clutched in my fist as I shuffle to the counter.
“This guy, he’s coming soon, right?” the woman drawls. I nod quickly.
“Yeah. He was coming from western California. You said that was ten hours, right? It’s been almost nine. Hopefully soon.”
Her eyes are filled with pity as she sighs, tapping her screen.
“What’ll it be?”
“Uh, a small fries, please.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Ringing it up, she holds her hand out, and I extract a dollar and place it in her hand.
“Thanks.”
“I’ll get your fries. You get another soda.”
Gratitude swells in my chest. Nine hours of refills on a single cup, that’s generous. I will forever be thankful for them. She returns, smiling as she hands over the packet of fries. Taking it, I cross to my table, snagging my soda cup and refilling it before retreating, slowly nibbling at my fries and sipping the ice-cold, fizzy drink, my eyes fixed on the dark grey floor tiles.
Viper said he was coming. He said he was. He wouldn’t lie to me. But I still have a tiny piece of my brain, scratching a deep groove, like a broken record, telling me that maybe he isn’t coming, and I’m going to run out of money before he shows. It’s dark outside and cold. It’s summer, so I don’t have a coat. While I wouldn’t freeze, I’m not stupid enough to think I would survive a night on the streets.
This is totally karma. That’s what it is. I took Mama from Joey. I took Viper from her. The universe is evening the score, and I did bad things, and I’m being severely punished. I can’t think of a single other explanation.
The pitiful sobs work their way up my throat, and I sniff, scrubbing my face with my hands. I’m already the weirdo who kinda smells, looks like a zombie, and is squatting in a McDonald's booth. I refuse to be the girl who cries into her fries. I won’t.
Sniffing again, I wipe the single tear that escapes with the back of my hand, hunching in on myself as someone walks straight up to my booth. This is it. I’m getting kicked out.
Sucking in a deep breath, I look up as a hand lands on my shoulder, ready to face the woman and plead to be allowed to stay. I’m not above begging.
The world freezes as I stare into Viper’s emerald green eyes, relief plainly written there. Oh my god. He’shere. With a squeak, I launch myself out of the uncomfortable booth seat, ignoring my screaming muscles.
Viper’s arms close around me, anchoring me to him as my legs wrap around his waist, and I bury my face into his neck, the tears breaking through my defenses and freely flowing. He holds me bone-crackingly tight.
“Let’s go, Peaches.” His gruff voice washes over me, and I nod, still clinging to him, my face not lifting.
He carries me away from the booth, stopping near the counter.
“Thanks for looking after her.”
“Oh, it was my pleasure. I’m glad you found her.”
I still don’t look up, but Viper shifts his weight, one of his hands moving away from me. I think he might be tipping her, but I don’t care.
We start moving again, out into the cold night air. I shiver, tightening my grip.
“I’ll get you warm, Peaches,” he mutters, his hand leaving me again to open the door of a Chevy truck. I reluctantly let go as he buckles me in, his hands cupping my face as he presses his forehead against mine, exhaling slowly.
Lifting his head, his eyes search mine, and he steps back, closing the door and rounding the hood. I automatically reach for him when he slides in, letting him tangle our fingers together. He sighs, lifting my hand to press a kiss to my knuckles.
"As much as I want to get you home, I’ve just driven eight hours, Peaches. We need a motel.”
A motel. A shower. “I want a motel.”
Nodding, Viper pulls out of the parking lot, his eyes darting around, looking for a motel with vacancies, his fingers still tight on my hand. I keep my eyes trained on his face. I can’t see much out the window in the dark. Memorizing the lines and curves, I drink in the sight of him. I was so afraid I would never see his face again, and now he’s here.
