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Adrenaline surges through my body as Rebecca holds my hand and Mario races around the counter to back up Eli.
Unnecessary, but a nice gesture.
I hop down off the counter, flicking away a speck of glass still clinging to the frayed edge of my blue jean skirt as Eli does a second round of human shot-put, encouraging each of the boys into their vehicles, bloody and tails tucked, before he throws a few roundhouse punches at the football players who are too stupid to realize how close they are to death.
“They won’t be back.” Eli stomps into the diner through the broken window, muttering in that voice that makes the ground shake and my full breasts throb. “If they do, you call me. I’ll finish the job.”
“Come, come.” Rebecca waves him over. “Thank you. Insurance will pay for the window but you deserve a reward. Bunuelos with extra ice cream. Sit, sit.” She points to the stools at the counter as Mario shakes his head and disappears into a closet, emerging with a broom and dust pan.
I stand, shrugging toward Eli who follows my lead. “Let us help.”
“You can help by sitting down and telling me what you think of my new bunuelos recipe.”
He nods to the swinging kitchen door where Rebecca is emerging with a platter full of the mouth-watering little donuts.
“That’s enough for a family of twelve,” Mario says on a chuckle.
I offer a smile. “You’ve seen Uncle Eli eat, right?”
“Go get more, Rebecca,” he says on a snort and the tension breaks as Eli sits me on the stool, taking a spot next to me and offering me a spoon.
“You get first bite.” He scoops up a huge bite and holds it in the air between us. Our eyes connect and I see relief smooth out the lines in his forehead.
The spoon slides through my lips as I savor the sugary, sweet wonder of the bunuelos together with the creamy vanilla ice cream, as Eli tilts his head, his lips falling open as he watches me eat.
His warm hand slips around my wrist, taking my pulse as the sound of the glass being swept up behind us mixes with the deafening thump thump thump of my heartbeat.
The pads in my bra are soaked through and the wetness from my milk is beginning to seep down my breasts into the elastic of my bra. I chastise myself again for not taking the time to pump before I left.
From what the doctor told me, most women who take the Motillium don’t have more than a moderate milk production, but she says I overachieve in everything so my milk production is no surprise. Even though I only take the medication when I’m feeling super sick, the milk just keeps coming. More and more every week. And it’s becoming a bit inconvenient to say the least.
“I’m full.” I push away the dessert as Eli takes another bite, rubbing my tummy. “I’m about to give birth.”
The metallic clatter of the spoon on the counter makes me jump as Eli drops his chin like he did in my bedroom earlier when I was leaving.
“Are you okay?” I ask in a low whisper, but before he can answer, my phone starts to ring in my purse and if it’s not Eli calling, it has to be Marcy.
I fumble around until I find the phone, flip it open and Eli reaches over and hits the speaker button.
“Ruby! Hello! Hello! Are you there?” Her voice cracks and squeals, filled with panic.
“Yes, I’m here,” I answer, my eyes on Eli as he holds the phone, his gaze drifting to the open button on my blouse. It must have popped during the chaos and the pink lace of my bra is peeking through as well as a growing wet spot on the padding.
“David and I had a fight.” She’s sobbing now. “Come get me, please. I’ll have this baby with or without him.”
Rebecca and Mario freeze mid-clean up and I follow their eyes to the door. There’s a commotion out there as the boys start shouting to someone just out of view.
Then Sheriff Connors walks right past them, ignoring all their pleas.
“Trouble?” he asks as he steps inside, nodding to me as he focuses on Rebecca and Mario.
Rebecca shakes her head. “Nothing we couldn’t handle. Just kids being kids, you know.”
“Want to press charges?” He draws his notebook out of his shirt pocket and a pen, raising one eyebrow.
There’s a noise from outside, one of the boys shouting that they want to press charges against that monster asshole but the sheriff ignores them.
“Ruby? What’s going on?” Marcy sounds worried and alone.
“Nothing,” I say. Eli releases a long exhale, eyes closing for a moment before taking the phone from my hand.
I press my fingers over my lips but it’s too late. You don’t snatch a phone away from a man like Eli.
