I was the last person he wanted to see. That went double for me. He had mentioned the diner, hadn’t he? Something about going there because he didn’t have limitless time. I hadn’t made the connection. So he worked there, judging from his position behind the counter.

It was like stepping back in time, walking from Craig’s to the diner for something to eat. Once again, the stress eater in me was roaring her ugly head. I wanted a stack of pancakes. Maybe half a pound of bacon. A milkshake. Something to make me feel better because not much in the world would erase the pain that had taken root in my core. My feet knew the way, and I hadn’t had to think much about anything other than keeping them moving as I made my way down familiar-yet-foreign streets, past landmarks I knew like the back of my hand.

Like the diner. Oh, the milkshakes and fries and coffee once we were old enough. The late nights spent there with Craig and Dawson, then mostly with just Dawson as we got older and friendship turned into something else. Holding hands, smiling at each other from across the table. Our first kiss had taken place right there in the parking lot, under a neon sign.

So of course, why wouldn’t I walk inside to find him standing there like he was waiting for me to arrive?

“Hello,” I murmured, tucking a strand of freshly-washed hair behind one ear. I’d taken the liberty of showering at the house, telling myself Craig wouldn’t mind. He might even have expected it—there were extra towels on the bed in the guest room and fresh linens. How much of my visit had he planned in advance? Just that little bit of inexplicable thoughtfulness had brought tears to my eyes.

“You changed,” Dawson said, and I didn’t know if that was an observation or an accusation.

I chose to take it as the former. “Yes. I didn’t think pajamas were apropos for public.”

A familiar figure rushed out from behind the counter, arms out. I recognized Debbie almost immediately and couldn’t believe she still worked there. Then, I completely believed it. Why wouldn’t she? Time had almost stood still while I was gone. Twenty years and so little had changed.

She ushered me to a booth and thrust a menu into my hands. “You take your time, honey,” she murmured. “I’d love to catch up on what you’ve been doing all this time if you’re up for it.”

“Of course,” I replied without thinking. It was just the sort of thing people said to be polite. Of course, you can ask personal questions about my life even though you didn’t know me outside of serving my food throughout my childhood. Of course, I’ll sit here and pour my heart out to you even though it’s breaking. Why not? There isn’t much else to do in this town, anyway.

Once alone, I pushed up the sleeves of my sweater—I was glad I had thought a little about my outfit before leaving the house, knowing Dawson was there to see me. A girl didn’t want to look like hell when she faced the guy who first crushed her heart.

He was pretending not to look at me, I could tell. He thought I didn’t know him. I turned my attention to the menu instead of allowing myself to indulge in thoughts of him. I felt so heavy, so tired. Wrung out. I didn’t need him in addition to everything else I was going through. Funny how something that had happened so long ago could feel so fresh. I could still remember the shock, the stinging pain, weight in my chest. The cold look on his face when he told me to leave, that we meant nothing to him.

A cup of coffee slid across the table. I knew without looking who’d delivered it—I could smell his cologne, faint but present, and the masculine sort of essence he carried on his skin, his clothes. “Thought you could use it.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, eyes scanning the menu but no longer seeing anything.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. My head dipped lower, almost hanging between my shoulders. “I see,” he replied to my non-verbal response.

The diner was pretty empty at that time of day, so I guessed that was why Dawson felt it was all right to sit across from me. I sat up straight, hands folded on the table, menu all but forgotten. I felt like an animal sensing a predator. If my ears could’ve stood up, they would have.

“You look good,” he murmured, taking me in with those unsettling eyes of his. “Well. I’m glad.”

“Thank you. You look well, too.” What an understatement that was.

He shrugged. “I stay busy.” He motioned around him, to the diner.

“You work here, huh?”

“I manage it.”

“Wow. Good for you.” I couldn’t imagine how busy it must make him.

“How about you?”

“How about me?” I poured cream into my coffee along with a healthy bit of sugar.

“What’ve you been up to?”

“Right, Craig never talked about me.” I cleared my throat before continuing. “I’m on a partnership track at Murphy, Lewis, and Deeds.”

When all I got was silence, I looked up to find Dawson’s face blank. “I’m sorry. Am I supposed to know what that means?”

I blinked. “Murphy, Lewis, and Deeds. They handled that big murder case last year, the one that had the trial broadcast all over the place.”

He nodded. “Oh, right. I do remember something about that, but I don’t get the chance to watch much TV. I spend most of my time here.”

“Gotcha.” I turned my attention back to my coffee, hating that it irked me so much when he didn’t know what I was talking about. My career was my badge of honor, or it had been up until then. Always one of the first questions delivered to a stranger, wasn’t it? What do you do for a living? Icebreaking 101. Perfect for cocktail parties, happy hours and dinners with friends of friends. I’d drop the name of my firm and eyes would widen, since everybody in town knew who they were. And I’d feel the same flash of gratification people always did when they were proud of their career.

Only he didn’t know. Or care.

“So you’re a lawyer?” he asked with genuine interest, if not name recognition. I swallowed back my wounded pride before speaking again.

“That was always my plan.”

“Yeah, it was. But time has a way of throwing plans off-track.”

I shook my head with a smile. “Maybe. But not mine.”

“No, not yours.”

My smile disappeared. “You never did get better at hiding sarcasm.”

“Who said I was trying?” he smirked.

“What’ll you have?” Debbie stepped in at just the right moment. I ordered pancakes and bacon, then turned my attention back to Dawson. There was a wry smile on his handsome face, and I couldn’t help cracking a little under it.

“Sorry,” he said. “And I still haven’t gotten better at apologizing, either, so…”

“Okay. I’m too tired to fight, anyway.” I looked back down at my coffee, wishing there was a handbook to refer to in moments like that. The first time facing one’s first love. The one that got away, the one who first broke my heart. The one who did a lot of things to me for the first time. There was so much unspoken between us, but that was for the best. It wasn’t the time to dredge up old ghosts. The time might never come, and I realized I was more than okay with that. I didn’t want it to come. I wanted to take care of business and get back home.

But I was home, wasn’t I? Life was so strange.

Being one of the only customers in the place meant my food was up fairly quickly, and I was grateful for the stack of fluffy, aromatic goodness that was slid in front of me. It was something to do, focusing on spreading butter and pouring syrup. I didn’t have to actively avoid Dawson’s gaze when I was busy doing something else. What was it about him? Or maybe the problem was mine. I was too raw, too tired, too everything. There was too much emotion brewing just beneath the surface for me to compose myself. I had quickly earned a reputation for being ice cold under pressure in the courtroom. But that wasn’t personal, after all.

“I wish you would get up,” I finally muttered before taking a big bite of the soft, hot, slightly sweet pancakes. It was like heaven, I thought in the back of my mind before remembering that my best friend was probably knocking at the pearly gates just about then. It wasn’t easy to swallow over the lump in my throat.

“You really don’t wanna see me, do you?”

“The fact that you sound surprised surprises me,” I replied. Suddenly, eating as fast as possible and getting the hell out of there was my top priority. “Besides, nobody likes being stared at while they’re housing a stack of pancakes.”

“I guess I was wrong,” he murmured, voice tight.

“About?” I shoveled a forkful of pancakes into my mouth, then dipped a strip of bacon into syrup before sliding it between my lips.

“About all this time making things a little easier.”

“Listen.” I put my fork down for the first time since the food came. “There’s a reason Craig never mentioned either of us to the other, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“I just thought you would’ve moved on by now.”

I blinked, wondering if he was being deliberately obtuse or if he really didn’t know what he did to me. “I have. I did. But that doesn’t mean we’re friends again. That sort of thing usually happens after a person gets closure and in case you forgot, there was no closure for us.” I dared him to argue, staring him down. He stared right back, which shouldn’t have surprised me.

“You’re right. There wasn’t. We were kids. We didn’t know any better.” Was that his idea of an apology?

I let it go. “We were.”

He stood. “This isn’t the time or the place.” My eyes shifted back and forth, and I finally noticed the attention we were gathering. There were two younger waitresses who worked along with Debbie, and they were making it a point to work very close to us. Closer than they strictly needed to, I would bet. They married ketchup bottles and filled salt shakers in silence—and anybody who’d ever worked with young women knew they weren’t quiet by nature. I wondered how much they’d already heard. Did they have a crush on him? I thought they might, the way their eyes tended to flicker up toward him before turning back to their work. And there I was, some stranger, having a tense conversation with him. Their imaginations had to be running wild.

He slid his hands into his pockets with a pensive sigh as he looked down at me, forehead creased. “You’re staying at Craig’s, then, I guess?”

“Yes, I am.” I was staying at Craig’s, surrounded by him even though he was gone. I still couldn’t believe he was gone.

“Would you mind if I stopped by later? I think there’re a few things we need to work out. I wanna help make this as easy on you as possible—getting the house ready, I mean, but not if you’re gonna bite my head off every time we’re together.”

“I’ll make it even easier for you.” I stood, sliding my arms back into my coat. My plate was practically empty, anyhow. “You don’t have to come over at all, since we can’t seem to avoid getting into an argument whenever we’re together, and things are hard enough. But thank you anyway.” I fumbled through my wallet and grabbed a ten and a twenty, tossing both onto the table—way more than I needed to pay, especially considering the almost laughably low prices on the menu, but Debbie deserved a smile. Somebody needed to smile.

Tears blurred my vision as I turned to go, and I nearly ran back to Craig’s just to be alone with my aching heart.