Taking that for a go ahead, Carter started answering the kid’s questions. And so it went for the next half hour, the writing back and forth until the kid’s eyelids must have gotten too heavy to hold open any longer and he fell asleep, his dark eyelashes so long they brushed the top of his face mask.
“Thank you,” Shadron’s mom said with a sniffle. “I mean you probably were looking forward to your nap rather than pretending to be some Hollywood super hero.”
“All in a day’s work.” Just usually against a green screen.
The woman let out a sigh. “He’s gonna be telling the nurses this story for days and I hope you don’t mind but I just don’t have the heart to explain that you aren’t the real Carter Hayes.”
He schooled his expression before he ruined his cover. “What gave it away?”
She waved her hands at their tight quarters. “Hello, coach section.” Letting out a quiet chuckle that sounded rusty from disuse, she shook her head. “Those movies mean the world to him. Watching them is usually how he deals with all the time in the hospital, makes him feel as if he can conquer the cancer just like The Admiral beats all those super villains.” Her chin trembled and she crumpled the tissue in her hand, visibly swallowing. “And he will. You take my word for it, he will.” Exhaling a quick breath, she gave him a curt nod. “Now you’ve been kept from your nap long enough. I won’t bother you anymore, I just had to say thank you.”
Carter closed his eyes, but sleep didn’t come. His brain was spinning out too much. For all the effort he’d put into shaking off The Admiral’s persona because of how the role had limited what parts casting directors thought he’d work for, he’d never thought about what the character had meant to the people who paid to sit in the dark and watch The Admiral up on the big screen. How many other Shadrons were out there finding even a little bit of inspiration in a hero who guaranteed happy endings? And what kind of idiot was he for never seeing that?
You’re a real asshole, Hayes.
Maybe there was a way to do both, to be The Admiral and to stretch his professional muscles. It didn’t only have to be one or the other. He could make both happen. No one was just one thing.
Now, where did you hear that?
He gritted his teeth and forced himself off that path. No. He wouldn’t think about her. Aubrey was gone and it was his fault. Best just to forget about her and finally get some shuteye before they landed in New York.
Two days after getting home in the dead of night after snagging the last seat on the last flight away from the last man she should have fallen for, Aubrey was dragging ass. Not even the strong-enough-to-put-hair-on-a-person’s-chest coffee at the bakery had perked her up. There was only one thing in all of Salvation that could help at that moment—Ruby Sue’s pecan pie.
Feet filled with lead, she flipped the bakery sign to Closed and crossed the street to The Kitchen Sink Diner. Ruby Sue sat in her usual spot on a tall stool behind the cash register. Petite, sharp-eyed, and with a voice made raw from too many cigarettes for too long, Ruby Sue knew everything about everyone in Salvation thanks to her nosy nature and the fact that her pecan pie was worth giving up secrets for.
Ruby Sue took one look at Aubrey and got down off her stool and went to the pie case. “You look like you’ve been trampled by a herd of wild goats drunk on the Sweet’s family moonshine.”
“If only I felt as good as I looked.” Aubrey sat down at one of the empty stools at the counter, thankful it was after the lunch rush and before the early bird dinner special so they were alone except for the cook/dishwasher, Otis, who was working on the crossword puzzle in the corner booth.
Ruby Sue took out a plate of pecan pie, one with extra goo spilling out from the crust, and sat it in front of Aubrey. Then, she took out two forks and handed one over. “That sounds like the beginning of a story—one with a man. Hopefully, he has a butt I could bounce a quarter off of, if so please describe it in detail.”
“Ruby Sue,” she gasped, a fork full of pecan goodness stalled halfway to her mouth.
“What?” The older woman shrugged her bony shoulders. “I’m old, not missing the ability to admire a good butt.”
“He has a world-class butt,” she said before stuffing the pie in her mouth before she could say more.
There were, after all, entire Instagram sites devoted to his ass. Since she’d landed, she’d been avoiding social media. It just wasn’t the same anymore. Her thirst site, the ones she followed, each one would be a smack-in-the-face reminder of the possibility of something amazing that she’d messed up.
“Excellent.” Ruby Sue took a bite. “Now tell me that he has a brain and ambition too.”
“He does.”
“Wonderful. So what has you moping around looking like you ate your own donuts.” Ruby Sue dropped her volume to a whisper. “No offense, but we all heard about your attempt to bake when you first moved back from college.”
That had been a disaster. The volunteer firefighters had been nice about it though. Luckily no one had been hurt and the worst damage was a charbroiled tray of bear claws. This time it was much worse.
“I messed it all up.” She set her fork down, the idea of taking another bite making her stomach roil. “I lied to him, well, at least by omission.”
“Did you apologize?”
Aubrey nodded, tears already pooling in her eyes as the image of Carter’s face when he confronted her in the hotel room, his hurt as plain as the pecans on top of Ruby Sue’s pie.
The older woman took another bite from their shared slice, chewing it slowly as she turned her assessing gaze on Aubrey. “Did you make amends?”
“I can’t.” She sank back against the chair, wishing she could just melt into it. “It’s too big.”
“The most important things always are.” Ruby Sue finished off the pie, dumped the crumbs from the plate into the garbage, and then added the dish to the red tub waiting for Otis after he finished his puzzle. “Life doesn’t just give you what you want. You have to fight for it.”