Page 6 of Broken Pieces

Chapter Four

Raelynn

“Can you clean the tables by the Sergeants and then go check on them?” Ivy, the owner of the diner, asks me as I finish filling the last ketchup jar.

I glare at her. “There is no way I am helping them. I am the new talk of the town.”

Ivy rolls her eyes at me. “Rae, everyone that lives in this town is the talk of the town. Might as well go over there and shut them up. Think of it as first-day initiation.”

I groan and walk over with a wet rag to the tables near the door. I might have been gone from this town for three years, but that doesn’t mean I can forget the Sergeants. The town’s gossipers. Made up of mostly older women who have nothing to do with their time than spread gossip around. And lucky me, not only do I get to serve them but I also get to be the topic of conversation.

“Can you believe she came back here?”

“I heard that she almost died in whatever god-forsaken town she was in.”

“She looks way too thin…”

“Probably the drugs…”

“I heard she stole a bunch of money from her brother. Poor Easton, after all he’s done for her, and now his lady is pregnant. Such a shame they need to deal with this.”

My knuckles turn white as I grip the rag so hard I’ve probably created holes with my fingernails. I try to hold back my anger, searching for the line to reel it back in but then Marge, the leader of the pack, says the one thing to make me explode.

“If only she hadn’t gotten Tyler killed, she might still be a normal girl. I think she needed more than rehab.”

White light overcomes me and I have no idea where I am but all I hear is screaming. My mind and body are blinded by the light and sound and I can almost feel myself reverting back in time. I can see Tyler’s smiling face, see him dead on the ground, see myself clutching a needle and crying, seeing a bruised face in the mirror I barely recognize as my own.

I feel water being splashed on my face waking me from the trance I fell under. My scalp and fingers ache and I realize I’m clutching my hair so hard it’s nearly being pulled from my head. I crack my eyes open and see Ivy yelling at the Sergeants, kicking them out of the diner but not before I hear them whispering that I am crazy.

Arms encircle my shoulders and a cold cloth is pressed to my forehead. I hear Harper whispering in my ear but can barely make out what she is saying, the white heat of anger still overcoming my senses. It’s then I notice that I am on the floor under the table, sitting on cold French fries. The anger slips so quickly, fear takes over. I start to panic yet again, unaware as to how I ended up down here.

A single tear slips from my eye. Sadness quickly replacing the fear. The feeling of being lost strangling my mind as I stare at the French fries on the floor.

“Oh god, Rae, I didn’t think that would happen. I’m so sorry, honey.” Ivy grabs my hands as I continue to stare off into space not saying a word.

“Is she okay?” Ivy asks Harper.

“I have no idea.”

“Shoot. I messed up,” Ivy whispers. “Trace said something about her being like this at the bar the other night.”

“I think we should move her to the office,” Harper responds.

I couldn’t give two shits about them talking about me. I just want to get out of my head. Harper tries to lift me up, but Ivy stops her, scolding her by pointing to her pregnant belly. I manage to somehow grab Ivy’s hands and make it to the back office.

I just sit there catatonically. I try to speak, but I can’t make out any words. I don’t know how long I sit there. Eventually Easton shows up and carries me to his truck.

* * *

I slept for two days straight. I don’t know what came over me but the second I heard Tyler’s name the other day at the diner, everything seemed to crumble. He was my first love and I lost him, and I was never the same after that. I haven’t had an emotional breakdown like that in years, but I guess the drugs muted out most of my emotions.

Luckily, Ivy changed her mind about me waitressing. Now I just have to hang out at the diner instead of working.

I sit at the breakfast bar of the diner and twirl my hair around my finger and sip from a Dr. Pepper as I watch Ivy attempt to bake cookies. She has some grand idea of adding a bakery onto the diner. Which would be great for the business but they don’t have a pastry chef. Harper told me Ivy volunteered to do it but apparently the only thing she can make is peach cobbler.

It’s quite entertaining, to be honest. I think there is more flour on the floor than in the bowl. I watch as she over mixes the batter and smashes the dough onto cookie sheets before placing them in the oven.

I glance down at my phone and mindlessly scroll through Instagram. It’s not long before I smell burning. I dash into the kitchen and pull the cookies out of the oven. I can barely contain my laughter. The cookies are half burnt and flatter than a quarter. I am sure if I touch one it will crumble into pieces.

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