Page 26 of Life After You

“So, what brings you to this part of town, honey?”

Something about her mannerisms, the calm knowing way she looks at me, reminds me of my abuela. God rest her soul.

I grin, setting my cup down. “Just waiting on a mechanic. But I’m also looking for some family around here.”

Her eyebrows lift. “Family, huh? I’m guessing that means you left your ride with Si? That big, beautiful bear of a man.” She gives me a look, studying me like she’s trying to read my soul. Then she smirks. “You look like… you drive, hmm…” She taps her chin, considering. “I wanna say muscle car, but you got a biker look about you.”

I blink. “H-how did you—?”

She beams, pleased with herself. “Knew it. I got a sense for these things.”

I shake my head, laughing. I didn’t think I’d come to Portland and meet a bruja.

“What car is it?”

“A friend’s. ‘69 Charger.”

Patty makes a little “o” shape with her mouth. “That’ll keep him busy. Charger, huh? Bet he’s grinning ear to ear like a kid in a candy store.” She wipes her hands on her apron. “Alright, let me get your order in, and once you’ve eaten, we’ll talk about your family, alright, hon?”

I’m not about to question the bruja’s motives, but the promise of food is too good to pass up. I nod, sipping my coffee, my stomach already rumbling in anticipation.

I check my phone, then Braden’s. A text flashes up from Trey—a chaotic string of emojis that make absolutely no sense. Does Trey even know what the fuck he’s saying half the time?

Links start flooding in, lighting up my screen. Clips from TikTok, asking if I want to open in a browser or install the app. Absolutely not. I’m never using that time-wasting bullshit. Another ding—YouTube this time.

I try to ignore it as my food arrives, but somehow, my thumb betrays me, tapping one of the links.

A video pops up—me on stage, acoustic in hand, the crowd screaming.

My stomach twists as I fumble with the volume, muting it before more people start looking. My face burns as I shove my phone aside, reaching for my fork instead.

The pancakes are perfect, the bacon savory enough to hit just right with the melting nub of butter. I drown it all in syrup, watching as it soaks into the fluffy stack. The eggs, though—they’re not the daffodil yellow I expect. They’re paler, almost delicate. I frown, take a bite…and stop.

Dios mío.

Eggs. Fucking eggs.

I don’t know what kind of sorcery Patty’s got back there, but these are the best damn eggs I’ve ever had. Creamy, light, full of flavor. I don’t even like eggs that much, but I’d fight someone for another plate of these.

I’m going to have to thank the chef. Or the grill cook. Or—no. I’ll tell Patty. She’ll appreciate it. I’m already planning a damn good tip.

For a moment, I forget why I’m here, why I’m sitting in this booth at all.

Then Braden’s phone buzzes in my palm, snapping me back to reality.

The door swings open behind me, and Patty calls out—

“Oh, heavens! Look what the cat dragged in.”

I turn from my empty plate, my pulse spiking.

And then I see—

No.

No fucking way.

Chapter Nine

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