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As I wipe down the counter and prepare for the next rush of customers, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever feel whole again. I know that I need to move forward, to make a life for myself without him. But the truth is, I’m struggling to find my footing in a world without Slash by my side, with a job that wears me down and a boss who doesn’t seem to care.
As the day drags on, I work diligently, refilling coffee cups, taking orders, and clearing tables. Underneath it all, I secretly hope for any sign of Slash’s return. Each time the bell above the door jingles, my heart leaps in my chest, only to sink again as I’m met with another unfamiliar face.
The door swings open once more, and this time, it’s my sister, Lizzie, who enters. She’s the only family member who hasn’t outright condemned my relationship with Slash. Instead, she’s been a supportive and understanding presence in my life since he left. Lily slides onto a barstool at the counter, offering me a warm smile.
“Hey, Sades,” she says, using the nickname she’s called me since we were kids. “How’s it going?”
I force a smile, trying to hide the heaviness in my heart. “You know, just another day at the diner,” I reply, hoping my voice sounds more upbeat than I feel.
Lizzie’s eyes study me, filled with concern. She knows me better than anyone and can see through my façade. “You’re still missing him, huh?” she asks gently, her voice soft and empathetic.
I nod, unable to speak as the familiar ache swells in my chest. Lizzie reaches out, squeezing my hand reassuringly. “Hey, it’s okay. You never know what the future holds. Maybe he’ll come back. And if he doesn’t, you’ll find your way without him. You’re stronger than you think.”
Her words offer me a small measure of comfort. As I turn my attention to the door in a movement that’s become compulsive, my parents walk in, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. It seems like they’ve been coming in for lunch almost every day since Lizzie let it slip that I’ve been struggling with Slash’s absence. They never say much, but their presence speaks volumes.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad,” I greet them, trying to sound cheerful despite the heaviness in my heart.
They exchange a glance before my mom speaks up. “Hi, sweetheart.”
I lead them to their regular table. “The usual?”
I can feel their eyes on me as I go about my work, their presence a reminder that I’m not as alone as I feel.
Just like I do every day, I find myself often glancing outside, hoping for a glimpse of chrome through the diner window or the sound of a roaring engine—and today, it comes.
I don’t allow myself to get too excited. It’s just wishful thinking, right? But as the sound comes closer, it becomes unmistakable. My heart races in anticipation and anxiety as I realize it’s Slash’s motorcycle I’m hearing. I grip the edge of the counter, trying to steady myself.
The diner door swings open, and there he is. Slash strides in, his gaze locking onto me with such intensity that it feels like a physical touch. It’s clear that he’s here for me, and nothing else. The world around me goes silent as I try to process his return, my thoughts racing in circles.
As he walks toward me, my hands shake, and I drop the tray I’m holding, the clatter echoing throughout the diner. My boss, the customers, and the other waitresses all stare at me, but I don’t care. All that matters is that Slash has come back.
His eyes never leave mine as he closes the distance between us, and I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes. The emotional impact of this moment is almost too much to bear. I stand frozen, unable to move or speak, as he comes closer, desperate to know why he’s returned and what this means for us.
Slash’s protectiveness is evident as soon as my boss starts yelling at me for dropping the tray. His face hardens, and he moves to stand between me and the irate man.
“Back off,” Slash warns, his voice icy.
My boss, not used to being talked back to, puffs up his chest and glares at Slash. “Who do you think you are, coming in here and causing a scene? She’s my employee, and I have the right to—“
Slash cuts him off, stepping even closer and towering over my boss, his eyes filled with a ferocity I’ve only seen a few times before. “She doesn’t work for you anymore. So you can take your rights and shove them.”
The diner falls silent, everyone watching the confrontation with a mix of shock and fascination. I can hardly believe what’s happening, but I can’t deny the relief that washes over me. Slash is here, defending me, making sure that I’ll never have to endure my boss’s mistreatment again.
My boss swallows hard, his face turning red with anger and humiliation. “Excuseme? Look, you animal—“ Slash cuts him off with a punch to the jaw. Patrons gasp, and silverware clatters to the floor, but I barely notice any of it. My eyes are on Slash, who’s striding over to me. He grabs my wrist and leans down so his mouth is at my ear, and my knees go weak at the proximity I’ve been desperate to get back to for weeks.
“Will you come with me?” he asks. I manage a nod, and he sweeps me into his arms.
As we make our way to the door, my parents shout, telling me to stop, not to leave with Slash. Their voices are distant and muffled, like a far-off echo. But I think I hear Lizzie let out a whoop of celebration. I know my parents are worried about me, but I’m past caring about whether they understand my relationship with Slash. I ignore their pleas, clinging to him as he carries me out of the diner.
He gently sets me down on the saddle of the Harley and takes my face in his hands. Are lips crash together, and he slides his fingers into my hair, twisting it around them and tilting my head back as his tongue melds with mine. I wrap my legs around him, not caring about the eyes undoubtedly staring at us from inside the diner.
When I’m breathless, lips swollen from the force of our kiss, Slash hands me my blue helmet. He swings his leg over the bike and looks at me over his shoulder. “Hold on tight, Sadie.” I cling to him like my life depends on it—and I think maybe it does.
“I’ve been waiting for you to come back,” I say softly against his strong back.
“I never should have left,” he says. “I never will again.”
* * *
