Page 169 of Lost Then Found
Not this time.
Not ever again.
Chapter 18
LARK
The doorbell rings just as I’m folding the last of Hudson’s shirts.
I glance toward the stairs, listening for any signs of life or movement from above. Nothing. He’s probably still in his room, wrapped up in whatever game he’s playing.
With a sigh, I toss the folded shirt onto the growing pile beside me, push myself off the couch, and head for the door.
I pull it open and find Dawn, standing on my porch with three Tupperware containers stacked in her arms and a cigarette dangling between her lips.
Before I can say anything, she flicks the cigarette onto the pavement, grinds it out with the toe of her boot, and gives me a once-over. “Goddamn, Blue. You look exhausted.”
I laugh, crossing my arms. Dawn’s been calling me Blue since I was a kid, ever since the first time she met me at the Bluebell and took one look at my eyes. Said they were the kind of blue that could stop someone in their tracks. But mostly, I think she just liked the way it sounded.
I tilt my head. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Dawn.”
She just smirks, shoving the Tupperware into my hands. “Had extra from last night. Figured you could use a decent meal.”
I glance down at the stack, the warmth from the containers seepingthrough the plastic. Dawn and Opal have been bringing me food three, four times a week since the Bluebell shut down—almost like they don’t trust me to function without a steady stream of home-cooked meals.
I raise an eyebrow. “You do realize I can still cook for myself, right?”
Dawn scoffs, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Next, you’ll tell me you’re getting plenty of sleep and drinking enough water and we both know that’s a lie if I ever heard one.”
I roll my eyes, nudging the door shut behind her.
She moves past me, heading for the kitchen, her cherry red hair pulled back in a blue bandanna, her makeup immaculate, as always—thick black eyeliner, bright red lipstick, cheekbones so sharp they could cut glass. She’s in her usual denim jacket, worn-in jeans, and cowboy boots that have seen better days.
I trail after her, setting the containers down on the counter as she leans a hip against the fridge, watching me.
“Where’s Opal?” I ask, peeling back one of the lids. The scent of slow-cooked beef and roasted vegetables fills the kitchen, my stomach grumbling in response.
Dawn waves a dismissive hand. “She’s out playing bingo with her girlfriend.”
I blink. “Opal plays bingo?”
Dawn chuckles, crossing her arms. “Every Saturday night. Oh, don’t let her fool you. That woman runs the table like a damn shark. Walks away with cash more often than not.”
I shake my head, grinning. “That’s honestly impressive.”
Dawn smirks. “I keep telling her we should take a weekend trip to Vegas. Put those skills to good use.”
I laugh, grabbing a fork from the drawer and stealing a bite straight from the container. It’s rich, tender, still warm despite however long it’s been sitting in her truck.
Dawn watches me for a beat, then tilts her head slightly. “So, how are you really doing, Blue? And no bullshit.”
The humor in her voice is softer now, edged with something else.
I pause, fork halfway to my mouth, and let out a slow breath. “Honestly? I don’t even know. One second I think I’ve got a handle on things, and the next it feels like everything is slipping through my fingers.” I shake my head, stabbing another bite like it personally offended me. “I still don’t even understand how the hell this whole health inspection thing happened. One day we were fine, and then suddenly we weren’t. It’s like someone flipped a switch, and now I’m supposed to just…deal with it.”
Dawn leans a hip against the counter, watching me like she’s weighing her words. “Sounds like youhavebeen dealing with it.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Not very well.”
