Page 50 of Gin & Jewels
“Bradley,” Mom spoke. Hearing my name, Cassie’s gaze lifted to mine. Her sapphire blue eyes widened as my mother continued. “This is Krystal. Krystal, this is my handsome son, Bradley.”
I grunted. “Krystal? Your name is Krystal?”
Mom furrowed her brow and looked between Cassie and me. Cassie looked down at the floor and whispered, “Yes.”
“Krystal just moved here,” Mom stated.
“Oh?” I clipped. “From where?”
“Los Angeles,” Cassie lied. I could barely hear her over the loud clatter of plates and people chatting. She seemed nervous, probably because she thought she would never see me again. But why would she want that, and how the fuck did she get all the way to Tennessee?
“LA? Really?”
“I should really get back to my tables,” Cassie said and started to walk away.
“Oh, don’t you worry,hon. I’ll be here when your shift ends.”
Mom grinned, probably thinking that I was interested inKrystal. If she only knew that I had a million and one questions to askCassie.
As I ate my burger and fries, I kept my gaze on Cassie. She wasn’t going to leave without giving me answers. She never looked at me, and I wondered what she was thinking about. Was she going to lie to me about why she left or tell me the truth? What was the truth? She’d never been on a plane, she didn’t drive, but somehow wound up over seventeen hundred miles away? And she left everything behind in Vegas?
Over the next hour, the diner started to clear out, and I was counting the minutes until I would get to speak with her again.
“More water?” Mom asked.
“Sure.” I slid my glass toward her as she stood on the other side of the counter.
“I didn’t expect you to stay until my shift ended.”
Me either. “Nothing else to do.”
Mom filled my glass, and my gaze moved to watch Cassie walk out from the back, her purse on her shoulder. I slid off the stool in a hurry. “Cass—Hey, Krystal!”
She didn’t even slow down, and I grabbed her arm to stop her. “I have to go,” she said through clenched teeth, not meeting my gaze still.
“Just tell me what the fuck is going on,” I whispered, stepping closer until her shoulder was pressed into my chest.
“I can’t, Brad. I have to go.” She looked outside, and I followed her eyeline to a car with Nevada plates parked in the lot.
“Who is that?”
“Please,” she begged, her voice low. “I have to go.”
“Are you running again?”
Her blue gaze moved up and finally met my eyes. “I didn’t run before.”
“Then how did you end up here?”
“I have to go,” she repeated and looked out to the parking lot again.
“Just talk to me,” I pleaded.
“I have to go,” she said again.
I finally let go of her. “Fine, but we’re not done yet.”
She swallowed and then met my gaze again. “Okay. Tomorrow. Come earlier.”
