Page 102 of Junkyard Dog

Max turned the truck back on, flipping on the headlights. “I thought you didn’t want kids.”

Buckling back in, she took a bite of her sandwich. “I don’t. Never mind.”

“Is it his temper? His feet?”

She tossed her sandwich back into the cooler. “No. And what the hell is wrong with his feet?” When Max didn’t respond, she crossed her arms and sat back. “You’re just pointing out petty stuff because he’s the big fish.”

“Want my two cents?” he asked as he pulled onto the pavement. “If everything else about the guy works for you, and it sure as hell seemed to when you were together, why would you trash it over something he can’t help? Whatever it is obviously isn’t a big enough deal for anyone else to notice, so it can’t be that embarrassing.”

She turned back to her window, adjusting her hat. “It’s not embarrassing. Jeez, Max. But it’s something he can’t separate from. Something that’s ingrained in him.”

He slowed to check out a pair of tourists loading their bikes onto their roof. “Then arguing about it is kind of pointless. And kind of vicious.”

*

Charlotte flung herblanket off, Max’s words still haunting her.

Pointless.

Vicious.

With all her focus on her own confusion and uncertainty regarding Alex and everything he’d laid out for her, she hadn’t once considered the brashness of her words, how cutting she’d been as she’d openly debated her ability to accept him for existing.

She swung her legs over the edge of her bed and switched on her lamp.

Separate the two.

Me either.

She winced as the resignation in Alex’s voice echoed in her head.

It had been three nights since they’d spoken. She had taken to keeping her phone in the kitchen when she went to bed, eliminating the temptation to call him. Text him. Check to see if he’d texted her.

But he hadn’t reached out to her. And with his defeated tone playing in her memory, she couldn’t blame him.

She wandered into the kitchen, swiping her phone to life and pursing her lips when she saw the time.

Four a.m.

Pulling up Alex’s number, she hovered her thumb over the delete button, hesitating as Persephone’s words sank into her head.

We’re all that’s holding him back. What’s holding you?

She set her phone down.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Alex tossed acloth over his shoulder and held out his hand for the freshly sharpened knife. “I’m getting the hang of this prep work thing,” he stated, slamming an onion down and slicing it in half. “Check out the evenness of this dice job.”

Thomas glanced over, grunting when he saw Alex’s handiwork. “Don’t quit your day job.”

“If I had a day job, I wouldn’t be hanging out here for free on a Saturday night,” he snorted, scraping his work into a bowl. “You still insisting I come by tomorrow? Or can we hash this out now?”

Slapping at the orders dangling on the line, Thomas returned to the grill. “Do I look like I have time tonight? No. I said Sunday, I meant Sunday.” He squinted at an order and side-eyed him for a moment. “You’re done here. Head on out.”

Alex set the bowl of onions on the counter beside Thomas and shot the cloth into the hamper in the corner. “See you tomorrow.”

He pushed through the kitchen doors, giving a nod to Daniel as he passed the bar and freezing in his tracks when Max stepped into his path.

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