Brody
She could have come inside. The diner was completely empty except for Johnny. Half the place was sectioned off with large plastic sheets taped to the ceiling and floor, and the smell of grease mixed with dust permeated the air, so thick I almost choked on it. Johnny’s nephew Jeremy had taken over the management of the roadhouse about three months ago with the help of Ryder and everyone else. He was currently renovating half the diner and turning it into a retro bar.
“Still skipping out on dinner, I see,” Johnny said, sticking his head through the small window behind the counter that looked into the kitchen.
“Makes Audrey uncomfortable.” I cracked my knuckles.
It wasn’t a lie. Audrey Davide hated sitting around the table on Sunday nights, forced to interact with a bunch of people who meant well, but who she didn’t really know, for a dinner she didn’t care about. I got it. I understood. I didn’t want to hang around the house either, so I used her and her anxiety as an excuse to escape the house.
I couldn’t sit at the same table and watch my cousin all loved up with my ex-girlfriend. It hurt to witness. I thought…I had thought at one point there might have been a chance for Harper and me to pick up where our relationship had left off a couple of years ago. But I was wrong. While I was busy keeping Audrey company in the hospital and being there for her, my cousin stormed in and swept Harper off her feet. Became her friend, the person she trusted most in the world—trusted more than she’d trusted me when we were together—discovered her secrets, the past she’d been hiding. The entire reason we’d broken up, to begin with. She couldn’t or wouldn’t trust me enough to let me in, but Nate was a different story.
I should be happy for them. It wasn’t like Harper, and I had recently broken up. I’d moved on over the years, dated occasionally, but running into Harper again last year at my aunt and uncle’s second wedding in Fiji was a shock to the system. It brought back all the feelings from the past, so it stung to see her with him.
Johnny grunted. “More like it makes you uncomfortable, you little jerk.” He pushed away from the window and moved back over to the grill.
I thought about saying something, but I didn’t want to argue with him. I liked Johnny a lot. Everyone did. He was Harper’s uncle, and he thought that gave him the right to stick his nose in where it didn’t belong. Like our relationship, or rather our non-existent relationship. He took every opportunity that presented itself to tell me I was being a jerk, or childish, and that I needed to forgive my cousin, forgive Harper, and…
“Just get the hell over it, already,” Johnny shouted from the kitchen then cursed as he dropped something, whatever it was clattering to the floor. “She misses your scrawny little ass. God knows why,” he said, sticking his head back through the window and waving his spatula at me.
And I missed her. And Nate too. Their friendship. But the sting was still there, and the sympathetic looks I got from everyone else when I was in the same room as Harper and Nate were enough to drive me crazy. If everyone else acted like it was nothing and didn’t make a big deal out of being overly nice and coddling me, I could probably get over it faster. But they just reminded me how I was always the second choice. I was never anyone’s first choice. Not Harper’s. Not Nate’s. Not even my own parents’.
“How’s she doing, anyway?” Johnny asked, coming to stand in front of me and placing our bag of food on the counter.
My eyebrows pinched together, and I swallowed. He knew Harper better than I did. He must know how she was doing. Even the damn postman would know how well she was before I did these days.
“Audrey, you twit.” Johnny shook his head and looked over my shoulder, out the window to where my car was parked.
“She’s okay. Still doesn’t want to be seen in public, but she returns to school in a week.” I glanced over at the car with a frown.
I was concerned for her. I didn’t think she was ready to return to school, but her therapist thought otherwise. Apparently, it would do her the world of good to get back into society. That was easy for her to say, but I knew Audrey. She didn’t trust or feel comfortable around anyone. Even though most of her injuries had healed, and she’d completed her rehabilitation program without an issue, she was still self-conscious. It was her scars. The ones that were, in my opinion, hardly noticeable. But to a seventeen-year-old girl, they were the most hideous sight imaginable. They covered the entire right side of her body, from her toes to her temple. She was lucky she’d hadn’t lost her right eye with the damage she’d suffered. She hid herself away. Hated to be seen in public. Wouldn’t talk to anyone and tried to avoid all social situations like Sunday night dinners because she was convinced everyone was looking at her, her scars, her short hair.
No one was.
As much as I tried to avoid Nate and Harper, I couldn’t deny my friends were great people. They went out of their way to talk to Audrey and include her in conversations, even inviting her out when they all got together at someone’s house, knowing she wouldn’t step out in public. They never stared, never batted an eye at her scars. They treated her as one of their own, yet she just didn’t see it. She thought it was pity. And maybe it was, a little bit. I knew everyone felt bad for her because she had no family, no friends. She was orphaned. But I also knew they cared and wanted the best for her.
“Gotta be tough.” Johnny pushed the bag over to me and nodded. “Threw in a couple of those rainbow cupcakes she likes so much.”
“Thanks, man.” I rapped my fist on the counter twice, picked up the bag, and left Johnny to it.
Audrey was fiddling with the stereo when I got back in the car. “Hey, hands off.” I pushed her hand away. “My car. My tunes.”
“Your tunes suck.” She smiled. Tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear, the small freckle on the side of her face visible, she reached for the bag and peeked inside. “Yes. Tell Johnny I love him.” She pulled a rainbow coloured cupcake with silver sprinkles from the bag and took a bite.
“You could go in there and tell him yourself, you know.”
She stopped chewing, the cupcake hanging precariously in her grasp, and sighed. “You know I can’t do that.”
“I know—”
“Good, then please stop pestering me about it. I’m not ready.”
“But,” I held up my hand to silence her, ignoring the way her brown eyes narrowed on me and her lips pulled into a frown as she clenched her jaw, “there is no one inside. At all. Place is empty except for Johnny. Don—”
“Don’t care,” she ground out, dropping her cupcake back into the bag.
“Audrey.”
“Do you know the last time I ate out anywhere?”
Of course, I didn’t. She hadn’t left the Kellermans’ house in months, unless it was for an appointment. I shook my head.
“Two days before the fire. My dad took me out for pizza because we hadn’t spent a lot of time together. And you know what I did?” she screeched, her chest heaving as she gasped. She was losing control.
“No.”
“I ignored him. I was more interested in texting the cute boy from my math class than I was in spending time with my dad. I can’t take that back. And I want to, so bad. I want to have a million more dinners with him, listen to his terrible jokes, take his advice, and…” She rocked back and forth in the seat. “I just want to hug him and tell him I love him one more time. But I can’t.”
The tears were streaming down her face. She was in so much pain. I didn’t see how her therapist could possibly think she was ready to return to school. I felt helpless, so I did the only thing I could. I reached for her and pulled her into my arms, cradling her head against my chest and letting her cry. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose your entire family like that.
I didn’t have anything to do with my parents. I grew up taking care of myself because they decided they weren’t ready for kids. I spent more time at friends’ or neighbours’ houses, and every holiday I jumped on a train and headed out here to spend time with Leanne and Steve. The day I graduated high school was the last time I spoke to either of my parents. I packed up my few belongings, found a job, and then went to uni. Uncle Steve didn’t even talk to my dad anymore, his own brother. No one would say why, but I thought it was all to do with me. My childhood sucked, but it could have been much worse. At least I had a roof over my head, clothes that fit, and food in the cupboards.
We sat there, Audrey’s tears soaking into my shirt until she couldn’t cry any more.
“Sorry. Sometimes it’s hard, you know? So many things remind me of them, and it really hurts.” She sat straight and wiped her red-rimmed eyes.
“I know. I’m sorry, cupcake. But don’t you think you should try? Get it over and done with. You have to go back to school next week. This can be a practice run. I think your dad would want that.”
She folded her arms and turned to stare out the window. Great. The silent treatment.
“You know I’m right, Audrey. You’re not going to make it next week if you can’t leave my car now.” I reached over and touched her shoulder gently, but she shrugged me off and pulled away. Sighing, I continued. “I’ll be with you the whole time. We’ll sit in a corner, you can put your back to the entire room so no one sees you should they happen to come inside.”
Audrey shook her head.
“Please. I’ll do anything you want if you come inside with me and have dinner. Anything,” I pleaded. I needed to get her out of the car and somewhere she risked being seen. There’d be no hiding next week at school, and she couldn’t even face Johnny alone in the diner. What chance did she have facing the entire school? I understood that it brought back memories and the pain associated with them, but she would never fully recover if she didn’t try. I couldn’t imagine her family would want to see her like this, existing but not living.
“Anything?” She straightened her back and looked at me with one raised eyebrow. There was the optimism I was looking for, though that thought worried me too.
“Anything.” I nodded, watching her face for a reaction. I’d buy her whatever she wanted, help her with her homework, bring her rainbow cupcakes every day, if she just got out of the damn car and walked inside.
She chewed on her bottom lip and twisted her hands in her lap nervously but still managed to hold eye contact with me. “Take me away.”
“Wh-what?” I choked out, not expecting that answer. She couldn’t seriously want to leave the Kellermans’. My aunt and uncle adored her and wanted the best for her.
Seeing the look on my face, she shook her head. “Forget it. I want to go home, Brody.”
“No. Where do you want to go?”
“Home.”
“No, not now. Away. You said take me away. Where?”
“It doesn’t matter. It was a stupid idea. Your reaction told me everything.”
“My reaction?”
“You don’t want to be alone with me or be seen with me. I get it. I’m a frea—” I reached over and put my hand on her mouth, silencing her before she could say any more. She was not a freak. Far from it.
“Cupcake,” I said, using the nickname I used for her when she needed reassurance. “Don’t you dare say it. You know it’s not true. It’s always me and you. We’re alone right now. I’m trying to get you to leave the car and go out in public with me. So, don’t you dare tell me I don’t want to, okay?”
She nodded once, and I removed my hand from her mouth. “But you looked so horrified.”
“I’m not horrified. I was shocked that you asked to go away. You don’t like leaving the house for an appointment, let alone anything else. And then I’m worried that you want to leave for good.”
She shook her head. “My birthday is coming up. And I know Leanne and Steve will try to make a big deal out of it. Cake, candles—”
“You love cake.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, but not when an entire house of people are watching me eat. I’m happy sitting in your car with my cupcakes. You know they’ll organise a party, and I can’t deal with the attention. It’s not something I feel like celebrating this year, you know? How can I celebrate my birthday without my family? Why should I have a party, when they’re dead?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and closed my eyes, not wanting to see the sadness reflected in Audrey’s, because she was right. Celebrating would be the last thing on my mind if I were in her position. “I’ll make a deal with you. Have dinner with me now, in there,” I pointed at the diner, “and I’ll take you anywhere you want to go for your birthday. We’ll escape for the weekend.”
“A whole weekend?” Her face brightened just a little.
I nodded. “No party. No celebrations. No cake. Just us. Away from the world.”
“That’s a bit extreme. I at least deserve cake to cheer me up on my birthday.” Her lips quivered. It was almost a smile.
“Okay. We’ll run away with cake if you come inside with me right now.”
She studied my eyes, her right foot tapping nervously on the floor and her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “Okay.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but I was out of the car and rounding her side in an instant.
I wasn’t giving her the chance to change her mind. I pulled her door open, reached in, grabbed the bag of food from her lap, and held out my hand to her. Taking a deep breath, she grasped my hand and climbed out of the car, chin tucked in. The black hood of her jacket covered her face as we walked to the doors. She was trembling. One hand clutched my arm, and her nails dug into my skin, while her feet dragged across the gravel. She was trying to pull me back.
“Anywhere you want to go,” I reminded her.
“Do it for the cake,” she muttered under her breath.
“That’s it. Focus on the cake.” I pulled the doors open and led her inside. Johnny’s head appeared in the kitchen window. His jaw dropped and his eyebrows raised, then he nodded slightly and went back to work. At least he was smart enough not to make a big deal out of it, even though it was huge.
Audrey’s feet scuffed along the black and white checkered linoleum as I steered her toward a booth in the back corner, far from any prying eyes that might happen to arrive. Her shallow breaths evened out when I slid into the booth first and pulled her in beside me. Ordinarily, I’d have sat opposite, but judging by her reaction, I knew she’d prefer me not to leave her alone.
I tried to pry my hand from her grip to unpack our food, but she wouldn’t let go. “Can’t eat if I can’t get our food out of the bag.”
She sighed, and with a shaky breath she dropped my hand but moved closer until her leg was pressed against mine from hip to knee. Just that little bit of contact was enough to reassure her it would be okay. I grabbed out the food and placed it on the table.
“I’m not hungry,” Audrey mumbled, ducking her head further.
“Eat.” I pushed her burger toward her, and she flinched.
“I feel sick. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”
“Audrey.”
“Brody.”
“Come on. Food’s getting cold. Look, it’s just you and me. You can pretend we’re at home, hiding from Leanne.” I felt terrible for Leanne. She tried so hard and only wanted to make Audrey’s life better, and we repaid her by hiding out.
“Can’t we just sneak home and hide from her for real?”
“Sure, we can.” I smirked, and her eyes lit up. “If you don’t want to run away for your birthday, we can go home right now.”
“So not fair.” She huffed and picked up a fry, making exaggerated movements as she placed it in her mouth and chewed slowly and loudly. I rolled my eyes and ignored her.
We ate silently until Johnny came over. I had almost convinced myself that Audrey was perfectly okay with being out of the house and somewhere public, but the bouncing of her knee against mine told me otherwise.
“Thought you might like these,” Johnny said, placing milkshake glasses on the table in front of us, the swirl of purple, pink, and blue milk with silver sprinkles on top looking completely sickening and disgusting.
Audrey jumped slightly at his voice and pressed closer to my side.
I shot Johnny an apologetic look, but he shook it off with a wink and continued speaking. “My speciality. Unicorn cake batter smoothies.”
Audrey glanced up, a small smile on her face.
“Yeah, thought you’d like that, kid,” he said, and she nodded.
“Thank you,” she whispered before hiding her face again.
“Anytime.” Johnny’s chest expanded, and he stood a little taller, proud of himself for getting two words and half a smile out of her, which was, honestly, much more than most people got. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I asked, watching as Audrey took a sip of her milkshake.
With a lift of her shoulder, she said, “It was Johnny. He’s okay.”
Progress.
That was a big step, even though it might not have seemed that way. I smiled and continued eating.