Page 104 of Keeping Kaitlyn

Letting Mookout of the truck long enough to lift his leg on a light pole, lap up some water from a spigot hidden behind a newspaper stand, and devour the Flintstone-sized slab of beef Kait bought him, we left him in the backseat of the truck again, happily ruining it with a bone the size of my forearm.

“Pup cup for dessert,” she tells him before shutting the door so I can lock them and set the alarm before crossing the street to a small, brightly lit diner with a sign hanging above it’s door that says:

MARGE’S PLACE

BREAKFAST SERVED ALL DAY

Inside,we were seated right away by a tall, handsome woman with a bright red beehive and a wide, friendly smile. “I was wondering if you’d make it in to say hey,” she says, with a barely suppressed smirk before she winks at me. “I’m Marge, and you must be the man who stole our Kaity out from under my nephew.” I might be crazy but I hear a note of distaste in her tone when she saysmy nephew.

“If you’re talking about Brock then yes, I am.” Pushing myself out of my seat, I offer her my hand. “My name is Went—it’s nice to meet you.”

Taking my hand on a laugh, she gives it a firm shake. “Oh, I know your name, honey,” she says. “I’ll probably know your shoe size and social security number by morning with the way this town talks.” Pulling her hand back, she looks at Kait. “What can I get you, Kaity, besides a cherry coke? We’ve got chicken fried steak on special tonight.”

“That sounds good,” Kait says before shooting me a sheepish grin. “But you better bring me a glass of water before you bringme my cherry coke. This one gets testy if I’m not properly hydrated.”

“I’ll bet…” Shooting me an appraising look, along with a barely suppressed smile, Marge inclines her head. “What can I get you, honey?”

“Make it two specials,” I tell her, shooting Kait a sheepish grin of my own. “And you better make it apitcherof water.”

When I say it, Kait blushes while Marge lets out a hoot. “I’ll tell Dell to put a rush on your order. Wouldn’t want to keep you,” she says with a wink before she skuttles off to top off coffee cups and recite the daily pie selection to the smattering of customers laced throughout the diner.

True to her word, fifteen minutes later I’m eating what might be the best chicken fried steak I’ve ever had in my life while people drift past our table, some stopping to say hello, while others meander past it, trying to catch snippets of our conversation that they can carry back to their hive to feed the rumor mill.

They live in Boston—his family owns a hotel I think…

She’s a nurse. Works with veterans…

They won’t be staying more than a day or two. Friends of theirs are getting married…

Music and laughter float through the open entry way connecting the restaurant to the bar next-door, punctuated by the occasional scrape of barstools across the floor or the manic ding of a pinball machine. If it wasn’t George Strait on the jukebox, instead of Twenty-one Pilots, I’d swear we were at Gilroy’s.

Ready to go, I walk the check up to the register while Kait wraps up a conversation with the woman who runs the post office. Pulling my wallet from my back pocket, I feel a shadow fall across the counter. Looking up, I smile. “Hey, buddy...”Thumbing through it, I pull out a couple of large bills. “I was sort of hoping you’d show up.”

“You need to tell that wife of yours to sign those papers,” Brock tells me, breath wreaking of stale beer. If I had to guess, I’d say he made his way to the bar and started drinking, the second he dropped Abbey and their son off at home. “Things are gonna get real ugly if she doesn’t.”

“Is that right?” Passing the bills over the cash register to a nervous-looking Marge, I laugh. “Lookin’ at you, I’d say they can’t get much uglier.” Shaking my head, I decline Marge’s offer of change. “Keep it,” I tell her with a smile while I shove my wallet into the back pocket of my jeans.

“You think I’m playin’ with you?” he snarls at me, the booze in his system making him brave.

“No.” Turning to look at Brock again, I give him a bland smile. “I think you’re actually serious,” I tell him with a laugh. “I’m just not sure what you think you’re gonna do about it. Tell everyone some lie about my brother? Make accusations about Kait you know aren’t true?” I see Kait making her way toward me out of the corner of my eye and I give her a barely perceptible headshake, telling her to stay out of it. “I’d say I’m sorry about coming along and fucking up whatever plan you and Tom had worked out for Kait but it’d be a lie,” I say while glaring down at him. “I’m not sorry—not one fucking bit. The only thing I’m sorry about is that I didn’t kill you when I had the chance.” Dismissing him completely, I give Marge, who is still standing at the counter, an apologetic look. “I apologize for the language,” I tell her before reaching for Kait’s hand so I can get her out of there.

We’re out the door and halfway across the street before I hear Brock shove his way through the diner door behind us. “Good to see you again, Kaitydid,” he calls out, his tone full of menace. “I’ll be sure to give Abbey your love when I get home.”

You’d have to be deaf to not hear it for what it really is.

A threat.

Hearing it stiffens the set of my shoulders but before I can turn around and charge him, Kait tightens her hold on my hand. “Don’t” she says, still walking toward the truck, shoulders straight, head high. “It’s what he wants. He’s got no less than a dozen people in that bar who’re either loyal to him or loyal to his father, just waiting for you to take the bait.”

Even though it’s the last thing I want to do, I follow Kait’s lead and keep walking because she’s right. I have to be smart about this. I have too much to lose. The last thing I need is to land in a jail cell or a hospital bed and leave her unprotected.

Rounding the front of the truck, I throw a glance across the street while opening my own door. Brock is still standing there, watching us, and just as Kait predicted he’s surrounded by at least a dozen men, all of them waiting for me to do something stupid.

“Went, please…” Kait pleads with me from the dark interior of the truck. “Please take me home.”

Even though it’s the last thing I want to do, I climb into it before slamming my door closed and driving away.

SIXTY

---