about that party. I had to admit that Cody was definitely good-looking, which led to my bad life choices that night. He had a head full of wavy blond hair and an easy smile that he broke out frequently, complete with perfectly straight, blindingly white teeth and a cleft chin. He looked like he belonged on the beaches of California, hauling a surfboard behind him, instead of in Nowhere, Virginia.
And Cody knew he was good-looking. That knowledge was etched into that smile he gave so freely. “So what are you guys doing here?” I asked as I poured their water.
“Is that a question you ask all your customers?” Cody threw his arm along the back of the booth.
“Yes. Always.” Ice clinked off the glasses. “My version of great customer service.”
“We’re bored. Plus Phillip saw that Megan was here.” Cody swiped the glass of water. “Wanted to see her.”
I glanced over at the counter, where Phillip looked like he was serenading Abbi and Megan.
“And I wanted to see you.”
My head swung back around and I raised a brow. “Are you high?”
“Not at the moment.” He winked. “Why is that hard to believe? I like you, Lena. And I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“I’ve been around, working.” I stepped aside as Phillip joined them, scooting in beside Cody in the booth. I quickly took the others’ drink orders. “Do you guys need menus?”
“I do.” Cody gave me that smile, and my expression turned bland. “I like choices,” he added. “Lots of choices.”
Thinking that sounded like a really poor sexual innuendo, I shook my head and walked away. “Someone kill me now,” I said to the girls as I grabbed a stack of menus.
“Hey, don’t leave yet.” Megan twirled on the stool. “While you were busy adulting and I was busy ignoring Phillip, Keith texted Abbi and asked her out.”
“Oh, really?” I cradled the menus to my chest.
“To his party tonight,” Abbi clarified.
“He wants to get with you,” I reminded her, backing away.
Abbi rolled her eyes. “He can want whatever he wants, but that is never going to happen.”
“Famous last words,” muttered Megan, and then I heard her say, “We should go. I haven’t been to Keith’s in a couple of weeks.”
“I don’t know.” Abbi stared down at the napkin she’d been doodling on. “I have a feeling if I agree, you’re going to embarrass me.”
“Never,” gasped Megan.
“Well, you guys figure that out.” I turned away and brought the menus to the guys, placing one in front of each of them. Then I filled their drink orders and brought them over. “You guys know what you want yet?”
“I do.” Cody’s brown eyes twinkled as Phillip chuckled, and I prepared myself, knowing it had nothing to do with the menu. “What if I wanted a piece of you for dinner?”
I cocked my head to the side, not entirely surprised. Cody was... Well, he was just Cody. It was hard to take him seriously and he could be, as my mom would put it, crude as hell. “That had to be the absolute stupidest thing I’ve heard in the seventeen years of my life and I don’t even know what human being would be impressed by that statement.”
“Daaamn.” Phillip drew the word out, chuckling.
Cody leaned forward, completely unfazed. “I have better one-liners saved up. Want to hear them?”
“No. Not nearly buzzed enough for that.”
“Come on,” Cody insisted. “Trust me, it’s a true talent I have.”
“Well, you keep living the best life you can, and I’ll keep waiting for you to give me your orders.”
“Ouch.” He clasped his hand on his chest, falling back against the booth. “You wound me. Why so mean?”
“Because I just want to take your orders so I can go back to pretending to work when I’m really just reading,” I replied, smiling as sweetly as I could.
Cody laughed as he reached over, snatching the phone out of one of his friends’ hands. “Well, let’s not keep you from working too hard.”
The guys finally gave me their orders, and I walked back the short hall, past the restrooms and through the double doors into the kitchen. I found Bobby in the back, tugging a hair net on, smashing his man bun. I turned in the orders and then wheeled around, heading back to the counter.
“You guys need anything else?” I asked the girls as I picked up the empty fry basket.
Abbi shook her head. “Nah. I’m probably heading out of here soon.”
“Are you walking home?” Looking over her shoulder at the guys, Megan sighed as she eyed Phillip. “Why does he have to be so good-looking?”
“You have the attention span of a gnat. You ask me if I’m walking home and then immediately start talking about Phillip.” Abbi rested her head on the countertop. “Your ADD has ADHD. And yes, I was planning to walk home. I live, like, five blocks from here.”
Megan grinned as she faced her. “You do realize I actually have ADD, right?”
“I know.” Abbi raised her arms but kept her head down. “We all know that. You do not need to be a professional to know that.”
“Did I ever tell you about that time when my mom was convinced I was one of those indigo kids?” Megan picked up her braid and started fiddling with the ends. “She wanted to get my aura tested.”
Slowly, Abbi lifted her head and looked at her, her lips slightly parted. “What?”
Leaving them to that conversation, I took that basket to the kitchen and checked the guys’ orders. When I stepped back out into the hallway, I spotted Cody in the hallway leaning against the wall across from the restrooms.
My steps slowed. “What’s up?”
“You got a second?”
I eyed him warily. “Depends.”
After running a hand through his shaggy blond hair, he then dropped his arm. “Look, I actually did want to see you.”
“Uh, for what?” I crossed my arms and shifted my weight from one side to the next.
“I needed to talk to you about Sebastian.”
My brows lifted with surprise. “Why?”
“Sebastian and I are good friends, but I know you guys are closer. You’re like his sister or something.”
Sister? Seriously?
“Anyway, I wanted to ask you something.” He looked away. “Has Sebastian said anything about not wanting to play ball to you? Like I said, he and I are close, but he won’t talk to me about something like that.”
I stiffened for a fraction of a second and then folded my arms. There was no way in hell I was going to betray Sebastian’s confidence. Not even to his friend. “Why would you think that?”
He then tipped his head back against the wall. “He’s just... I don’t know.” Cody dropped his arm from his head. “He just doesn’t seem into it. Like he’d rather be anywhere but at practice. Couldn’t seem to care less about the upcoming season. When he’s on the field, he’s only half-there. He’s got talent, Lena. The kind of talent he doesn’t even have to work for. I’ve got this feeling he’s going to throw it all away.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I searched for something to say and finally settled on, “It’s only football.”
Cody stared at me like I’d grown a third hand out of the center of my forehead that then flipped him off. “Only football? You mean it’s only his future.”
“Well, that sounds a little dramatic.”
He raised a brow as he pushed off the wall. “Maybe I’m just imagining things,” he said after a moment.
“Sounds like it,” I replied. “Look, I’ve got to check on your order, so...”
Cody studied me a moment and then gave a little shake of his head. “So, you’re done doing the small-talk thing. Gotcha.”
Heat invaded my cheeks. Was I as transparent as a window?
“I’ll leave you be.” Shoving his hands into his jeans, he pivoted around and walked back to the front of the diner, leaving me standing there, staring after him.
I wiped my oddly damp palms
along my apron as I exhaled roughly.
By the time I’d grabbed the food and delivered it to the guys’ table, Abbi and Megan were ready to leave.
“You guys heading out now?” I asked.
“Yep.” Abbi slung her bag over her shoulder. “Friends don’t let friends walk home by themselves. Especially if said friend is likely to take rides with strangers.”
Megan rolled her eyes. “So, I saw Cody come from the back. Were you talking to him?”
I nodded as I picked up the cleaning rag. “He wanted to talk about Sebastian.”
“Uh-huh,” Megan murmured. “You know what I was thinking?”
Abbi’s expression said it was anyone’s guess.
Megan raised both brows and lowered her voice. “I wonder what Sebastian would think if he ever found out his best girl friend totally made out with his best guy friend. Drama.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. Drama llama, indeed. But I was hoping God liked me enough that I never had to cross that bridge.
The girls left and I turned my attention to the book I had stashed behind the counter, choosing not to dwell on what Megan said. If I did, I would probably break out into a cold sweat or something.
I’d made it about a page before I felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket.
I took one glance at it and I was no longer thinking about Sebastian and football or Cody and secrets.
I saw who the text was from.
I didn’t read further.
I deleted it without reading.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mom was in the kitchen when I finally made my way downstairs after a shower, my hair still damp at the ends. She was at the dull blue counter, pouring coffee into her thermos. Her shoulder-length blond hair was impressively straight, thanks to a flatiron. The white blouse she wore didn’t have a single wrinkle in it.
“Morning, hon.” She turned, a faint smile curving up her lips. “You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep in.” I’d had one of those annoying mornings when I woke up at 4:00 a.m. and thought in detail about everything in the world. Every time I tried to go back to sleep, something else would pop up in my head, from catching the eye of a college scout to what Cody had said Saturday night. If Sebastian didn’t want it, was he really throwing it all away?
“You feeling okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, just some insomnia this morning. I have practice later, so figured I’d just get up.” I walked to the small pantry and opened the door, scanning the shelves. “Pop-Tarts?”
“Out of them. I’ll pick up some on my lunch break. It’s going to be a cereal day for you.”
I grabbed the box of generic corn flakes and went to the fridge. “I can grab some later.”
“I don’t want you doing that.” She eyed me over the rim of the thermos. “I don’t want you to use the money you make on Pop-Tarts. We have money for groceries, hon.”
She gave me a half grin. “Generic Pop-Tarts, though.”
“I know we have money for that, but if you don’t like them—”
“Because they’re literally one of the worst things you could put in your mouth,” she cut in and then paused, her gaze glancing to the ceiling. “Well, there are worse things.”
“Ew. Mom!” I moaned.
“Uh-huh.” Mom moved over to the table but didn’t sit.
She was quiet as I shoved a few spoonfuls of cereal in my mouth before looking up at her.
Mom was staring out the small window over the sink, but I knew she wasn’t seeing the backyard. Not that there was much to see. It was just grass and secondhand patio furniture we rarely used anymore.
When Dad had been here, they would sit out there late at night through the summer and straight up to Halloween, staying up and talking. There used to be a fire pit, but it had fallen apart a few years ago, and Mom had kept it another year before throwing it away.
She kept holding on, even long past the point things were rotten out and decayed.
Lori and I used to sit up on the balcony and eavesdrop, but I think they knew we listened, because they only ever talked about boring stuff. Work. Bills. Vacations planned but never taken. Renovations on the dull blue counters in the kitchen that never happened.
Looking back, though, I could pinpoint the month when things began to change. It had been August, and I was ten. It was when their conversations out on the patio had turned to hushed whispers that ended with Dad storming inside, slamming the screen door shut behind him, and then Mom chasing after him.
Mom was always chasing after Dad.
I liked this Mom better.
Bitter-tasting guilt swallowed me up in one gulp, and I lowered my spoon. It was terrible thinking that, but it was true. This Mom made dinner when she could and asked about school. She joked around and spent the evenings eating ice cream on the couch with me while watching Dance Moms or The Walking Dead. The old Mom was always at dinners with Dad, and when she was home, so was he, so she was with him.
The old Mom had been all about Dad, every second of every day.
Now the grin had faded from her face, and I wondered if she was thinking about Dad, thinking about her life when she wasn’t an insurance agent living paycheck to paycheck, didn’t spend the nights alone.
My spoon clanged off the bowl. “You okay, Mom?”
“What?” She blinked a couple of times. “Yes. Of course. I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
I studied her for a few seconds, unsure if I should believe her. Mom looked okay—looked like she did yesterday and the day before—but there were faint lines around the corners of her mouth and eyes. Her brow creased where it hadn’t before, and her eyes, the same hazel as mine but more green, appeared haunted. “You looked sad.”
“Not sad. Just thinking about things.” Clasping the back of my neck, she bent down and kissed my forehead. “I won’t be home until late tonight, but I will be home for dinner tomorrow. Thinking about making spaghetti.”
“And meatballs?” I asked, hopeful for those homemade balls of grease and goodness.
She pulled back, wiggling her brows. “Only if you do the laundry. There’s a pile of towels that need your love and attention.”
“Done.” I hopped up out of my seat to take my bowl and spoon to the sink. I rinsed them out and placed them on the counter above the broken dishwasher. “Anything else you need me to do?”
“Hmm.” She headed into the living room, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “Clean the bathrooms?”
“Now you’re taking advantage of my kind offer.”
Mom grinned back at me. “Just do the towels and you’ll get meatballs.”
I was way too excited about those meatballs.
“And I’ll pick you up low-fat Pop-Tarts,” she added.
“You do that and I will never speak to you again!”
She laughed as she grabbed her gray blazer from the banister. “You kind of have to talk to me. I’m your mom. You can’t escape me.”
“I will find a way to escape if you walk through these doors with low-fat Pop-Tarts.”
She laughed while opening the front door. “Okay, okay. They’ll be full of all the sugar and fat you can want. See you tonight.”
“Love you.” I moved to close the door, but I leaned against the frame, watching her teeter down the driveway in heels.
Chewing on my lower lip, I shifted my weight, trying to work out the weird unease stirring in the pit of my stomach. Mom said she was fine, but I knew she wasn’t. She might never be, because, deep down, even though she was right here, her heart was still chasing after Dad.