Page 6 of Living Hell

TWO

Tyler

“IS THAT Hello Kitty?” Austen asked as I held up the key ring.

Puckering my lips, I cradled the metal in my fingers and leaned forward. I held the key of my dreams in my hand and I was about to kiss the hell out of it. I didn’t care if my friend stared at me as I made out with a metal cartoon cat.

“I’m a vet,” I said, lifting my head from the sloppy kiss.

Austen Goode covered his mouth as a chuckle escaped his lips.

“Laugh all you want, but it makes sense. This shiny Japanese cartoon cat is my spirit animal. All vets have spirit animals, and today, it’s my lucky charm.”

I waved my hand toward the large picture window in the front of Fire and Ice Diner.

“The sun is out. It’s a perfect seventy-six degrees outside without a lick of humidity. This day was meant to be.”

My smile was wide as I gripped the key in my hand. I’ve waited almost my whole life for this moment and nothing would cause the grin to fall from my face.

He shrugged and lifted the last few wedges of his cut pancake, dripping in maple syrup, to his lips. Despite his mouth filled with half-chewed food, he mumbled, “So, if the weather was bad then you couldn’t move into your house?”

I shook my head, refusing to let his snark and foul table manners dampen my day. “A sudden violent storm could rage outside, and I wouldn’t care.” I pointed to my mouth. “This eager as a freakin’ beaver smile on my face can’t be broken, my friend.”

I was unhinged with happiness. My eyes were wild, and I probably appeared one step away from having a straitjacket thrown on me, but when you’ve worked for a decade to scrape and save and buy your dream, looking crazy was the last thing on your mind.

“You two men ready for dessert?” The always pleasant Debbie Kramer, part-owner of the diner and waitress, sidled up next to our table with pen and paper in hand.

My free hand, the one not gripping my happiness, reached across the table and came to rest over my friend’s sticky mouth.

“That will be all, beautiful lady. Just the check.” I gave her my signature wink.

“Someone’s in a good mood.” She slipped the pad into her apron and nestled the pencil into her gray curls behind her ear.

Austen pushed my hand away, and I made a mental note to wash the syrup off before we left.

“I always get dessert,” he said with a frown.

“Dessert? You were eating pancakes with maple syrup and whipped cream slathered on top. That’s dessert.”

Austen gazed between my finger pointing at his plate and me.

“I don’t understand. This is breakfast . . . not dessert. I need energy to move boxes.”

I wanted to explain to him that his breakfast would cause a sugar crash in an hour and he’d be useless by then.

My breakfast—an egg white omelet filled with veggies, topped with cheese, and a side of fruit and toast—was the perfect amount of protein, fat, and carbs for a day of moving into the first home I’ve ever owned.

I cared too much about my friend to avoid the truth. It’s lies that do the most damage in life. Whether it’s to spare a person’s feelings or worse, to take what doesn’t belong to you, avoiding the truth only caused harm.

Austen tolerated when I explained the truth to him. Perhaps that’s why he was my friend. But when it came to pancakes, even I couldn’t get him to see the light. But then again, nobody’s perfect.

“Sugar kills. And that, my friend, is a plate of death.”

He mumbled something under his breath that sounded like, “At least it’s not a plate of tasteless sawdust.”

But again, I let it slide. Most people wouldn’t pick my meal if given a choice, and I couldn’t say I blamed them. Food covered in sugar and fat tasted good. But I learned long ago all our choices in life had consequences—not just for ourselves but for the people around us.

I held up my pretty little key chain to Debbie. Maybe it was the glint from the metal or my shining teeth as I grinned, but she pulled me out of the booth and wrapped her arms around me.

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