Maddy
It had been a mistake, returning to New Haven. I’d known that the minute the thought crossed my mind. Heck, the minute I pulled into town it had taken every ounce of strength I had to pass the first few stoplights and navigate the familiar route to my parents’ house.
The one right next to Jason Caro’s.
The window I crawled into…
The window I crawled out of…
The roof I got drunk on for the first time…
The mailbox I hit while driving Jason’s truck…
Memories had full-on assaulted me while I made my way around the little subdivision, but nothing was worse than seeing that driveway empty.
Because it was just another reminder that I’d left him; that I was the one who had freaked out, bailed, and run as fast as my legs could take me.
That driveway used to have his favorite red truck parked out front. He’d done all his own detail work on it and, to this day, I was pretty sure there was still a black mark on the cement where the exhaust had sputtered and stained.
“Ma’am?” A deep male voice barked in my direction. “I asked if the Caesar salad was gluten-free?”
I was at my new job.
As a waitress.
Daydreaming about my best friend/ex-boyfriend from high school, and waiting on people who paid more for a steak than I made in a year. I was officially back in the one place I couldn’t leave fast enough. Well, that wasn’t officially true. I’d left because I had no choice, but still, nobody liked admitting defeat.
“Um, actually no.” I forced a polite smile and tucked my light strawberry blonde curls behind my ear. “It has croutons, so that’s gluten.”
I bit my tongue to keep from blurting out that all bread has gluten unless it said gluten-free. Maybe the diet was new to him.
The man’s eyebrows drew together in a frown as he peered over his spectacles. “Can’t you order gluten-free croutons?”
“We can…” I said helpfully, my feet aching from standing all day. I shouldn’t have pulled a double shift, but I needed more money if I had any hope of moving out of my parents’ house. “…but we don’t have any available. I’m so sorry. Why don’t you try the house salad? Or possibly the spinach with our house-made vinaigrette?”
“Well,” he tossed the menu in my direction, “that just ruins my whole meal. I was hoping to enjoy a Caesar.”
I ground my teeth together before answering, “How about I just have the chef make a Caesar without the croutons?”
“A Caesar…” the man repeated, low in his throat, “…without croutons?”
You’d have thought I’d just told him to celebrate the Fourth of July without a hotdog while I was running over the flag wearing an I-heart-Canada shirt.
“Oh, Pete.” The woman sitting opposite of him waved her heavily jeweled hand and gripped her goblet. “You don’t need the carbs.”
“True.” His mood changed dramatically as he lifted his wine into the air and clinked his glass against hers. “I’ll take the salad without croutons and the New York sirloin, rare, with mashed potatoes and the asparagus, please.”
She grinned her approval, her white teeth momentarily blinding me.
Blinking to regain my focus, I stared her down, waiting for her order.
“The same.” She nodded then held up her hand. “Except, no dressing on the salad, no dairy in my potatoes, and make sure the meat is well-done.”
That wasn’t the same. At. All.
But again, I held my tongue. The last thing I needed was to get fired after a week on the job.
“Sure!” I nodded. “Got it.”
“Aren’t you going to write that down?” she chuckled, mockingly.
“Great idea.” My lips were trembling from all the polite smiles I was trying to force. For some reason, her talking down to me made my gut clench and emotion clog my throat as I pulled out a pad of paper and scribbled down the order I’d already memorized.
It was demeaning.
It shouldn’t be.
But it was.
And I deserved it. I’d run away and never looked back. My gut clenched again. So maybe I had looked back, but only because I’d had no choice. He’d left me no choice…
But to run.
Right?
I’d been so young. We’d both been.
I thanked them, walked off, and typed the order into the computer.
“Hey.” Liza slipped by me carrying about ten empty beer bottles. They clanged together, nearly tipping over, before she set down her tray and put her hands on her hips. “You look horrible.”
“Gee…” my shoulders slunk, “…thanks. That’s just what every girl wants to hear on a Friday night, just before all the rich people barge in and start complaining over the fact that I didn’t give them a choice between still or sparkling water.”
Liza’s blue eyes twinkled. “Cheer up. I just mean you don’t look like your normal, peppy self.”
“When have I ever been peppy?” I finished typing in the order and moved my head back and forth to stretch my neck out.
“You were peppy in high school,” she pointed out while she dumped the beer bottles into the recycling bin and wiped off her tray.
I let out a pitiful groan. “I was a cheerleader in high school, who thought the world revolved around the next football game.”
“Correction.” Liza bent over and grabbed a pack of napkins then tossed them in my direction. I ripped the plastic wrapping open while she kept jabbering on. “You were a cheerleader in high school who thought the world revolved around Jason Caro.”
My cheeks felt hot. “Shh… keep your voice down.”
“What?” She glanced around the empty hallway leading into the kitchen. “You afraid he’s going to hear you all the way on the other side of town? From the police station? And the main office? With his door shut?”
I held up my hand. “You’ve made your point.”
Liza’s easy grin didn’t help the nerves suddenly attacking every inch of my body. I’d have to face him sooner or later. The town wasn’t big enough for the both of us.
Damn it.
Liza gripped my shoulders with both hands. “Look at me.”
I glanced down at my black ballet flats.
“Maddy.”
Slowly, I lifted my chin, my gaze faltering as my lower lip trembled just slightly. Age had done a real number on my emotions. I could at least admit that much.
Sometimes, I still smelled his cologne. He’d always looked like he’d just stepped out of a GQ commercial, so it only made sense that the man had worn Burberry. Something that, even to this day, made my eyes mist over and my throat clog up with emotion which, in turn, always made the peppy perfume-counter women think I was having an allergic reaction to their spray.
Nope, just having trouble traveling down memory lane since I bulldozed it then ran over Jason, the equivalent of the perfect man, minus the whole accident-prone thing he’d always had going on. Though I’d always been under the impression it had been more his sister’s bad timing and Jason’s bad luck.
“It’s okay to still think about him, you know. God only knows every other girl who’s ever seen that perfectly sculpted face has entertained similar thoughts. Then again, maybe not every other girl, since you actually saw him naked.”
Because that was helpful.
Visions of his abs clouded my vision until my chest hurt…
“What the hell are you doing?” he growled against my mouth as I lifted his shirt higher and higher, until bronze-muscled skin greeted my cold fingers.
“I’m freezing.” I nipped his lower lip. “Warm me up?”
“Always.” He tugged his shirt from his body then removed mine.
“What are you doing?” I burst out laughing while he continued to strip down to his boxers then reached for my jean shorts.
His green eyes sparked with lust. “What? I thought you needed me to warm you up? I may have been kicked out of Cub Scouts, but I’m pretty sure I got this shit locked down. Skin to skin contact, the only way to save a life.”
“And my life needs saving?”
“Desperately,” he breathed, his hands making dizzy circles down my hips until I bucked against him, my body craving more of him — always more.
“But your parents—”
“Gone. Weekend getaway.”
“Milo?”
“Dead.”
“What?” I gasped.
“Chill,” he laughed. “She’s with Colt at some weird Star Wars convention-party-thing that I refused to dress up for.”
“So…” My heart skipped in my chest. “…it’s just you and me.”
“And the dog.” Jason nodded seriously. “But he swore to take all secrets to the grave.”
I tilted my head in Ruff’s direction. “Can we trust him?”
“He put his paw across the Bible and then winked when I gave him a bone. I think we’re good.”
Laughing, I tugged Jason closer.
“I love you, Maddy. I always will.”
“I love you too,” I whispered.
“Your face is really red right now,” Liza pointed out.
“Sorry.” I shook my head. “Just… thinking.”
“About Jason?”
“Shh!” I waved my hands in front of me. “I doubt he even remembers me. It was a long time ago.”
Liza arched her eyebrows and then jutted out her hip. “Whatever makes you feel better about leaving him high and dry that night.”
“With one of his best friends,” was the other part of the story she wasn’t saying; maybe for my sake, possibly for hers, since it was actually her brother who’d been my ride out of town.
Who’d helped me lie.
And then insulted me straight after.
“Chin up.” She slapped her rag against the countertop. Droplets of water hit her black pencil skirt. “And thanks for taking a double tonight. We would have been swamped without you.”
“Of course,” I murmured, as I forced my thoughts back to the present. Another waitress, Stella, ran around the corner, her eyes wide as saucers.
“Liza!” Stella’s eyes watered as she glanced between the two of us. “She’s here.”
“She?” I asked.
“Damn.” Liza scratched her head. Her sleek honeyed hair was pulled back into a tight, low ponytail. “Marcus is sick, and she always requests him for her table.”
Stella nodded dumbly. Was she starting to cry? “What do we do?”
Whatever. I’d dealt with the worst of the worst customers; nobody could be as bad as Mr. Gluten-Free-Crouton man. “I’ll take the table.”
Stella paled.
I let out a non-committal shrug. “Guys, how bad can it be?”
“She set Marcus on fire,” Stella whispered.
“Twice,” Liza added.
“Why?”
“Because she could.” Stella shook her head slowly then repeated. “Because she could.”
Liza rolled her eyes. “Stop being dramatic. Maybe she’ll take a liking to Maddy? Either way, we have to serve her. It’s the law.”
“Great.” Stella rubbed her hands down her black knit dress. “I’ll be sure to remember that when I end up in prison because I strangled the old bat.”
As if on cue, a busboy rounded the corner, his cheeks red, his hands shaking. “Does anyone have the right water for the witch? I’m pretty sure she thinks I just offered to poison her.”
“Why would she think that?” I asked, getting seriously irritated with the snotty customer I’d have to serve.
“Because she said so…” He gulped. “…after she spat it back in my face.”
“Oh, for the love.” I swiped some pink lip gloss across my lips, glanced at my reflection via the window to make sure my wild hair was tamed, and straightened my back. “I’ll take care of this. What table?”
“Six.” The busboy made a cross motion in front of his chest then lowered his head. “As in six-six-six, you know?” He was either Catholic, or thinking of converting — all because of some insane, needy individual who had a God-complex.
Well, not tonight.
Because I was in a hell of a mood.
My feet hurt.
My heart ached.
And I couldn’t stop thinking of the only love I’d ever had — and lost. I took long, purposeful steps toward the new table.
An elderly lady with gray hair was sitting regally with her chin lifted high, her jeweled hands holding up a white napkin as if inspecting it, and her red lipstick perfectly drawn across her pouty mouth. She looked to be around eighty, but I wasn’t sure because of all the makeup she had on.
Her red dress wrapped tightly around a fit form, and her black shawl was snugly circling her neck, falling over her left shoulder.
“Good evening,” I said in the bravest voice I could muster. “And welcome to Terra. I’m—”
The young gentleman with her turned around slowly.
“J-Jason?”