PEYTON
Why am I here?Why did I agree to come here with him?
Obviously, I am an idiot. That’s why.
I have been to Teddy’s enough times to know what I want to eat. The best breakfast sandwich this side of the Bay. Egg, sausage, hash brown patty, and cheese slapped between two pancakes.
So. Freaking. Good.
But I dart my eyes over the menu as if I need time to figure it out. Meanwhile, I spot Micah in my periphery. Staring at me like a stoner. He doesn’t open his mouth to speak, doesn’t flinch or move his eyes to read the menu. He just stares straight ahead as if he’s broken.
The wicked part of me wants to reach across the table and slap his cheek to wake him up. Instead, I sit here like a friend would and fake read the menu. I scan the egg breakfast plates so many times I have the entire section memorized. So, I move on to the sides.
Just as I read cheese grits for the fifth time, our server arrives with a pen pressed to her green guest check pad. From across the table, Micah eyes me with a silent request to order first. I bite my cheek to stop myself from laughing.
After I order my sandwich and juice, Micah orders enough food for two and a coffee. Wasn’t kidding when he said he hadn’t eaten since yesterday.
“So…” It feels awkward just sitting here. But I have no clue what to talk about with him. Not like we have ever been friendly.
“So…” he repeats, but continues. “Sorry about earlier.”
About to tell him he doesn’t need to apologize, I get interrupted when the server drops off our drinks.
“Just don’t do it again.”
A corner of his mouth kicks up as he stares down at his mug and dumps several packets of sugar in the brew. “Didn’t mean to. Nice to know you were concerned.” He picks up his spoon, stirs the overly sweet caffeine and lifts his eyes to mine. “Nice to know you wouldn’t leave me to die.”
I roll my eyes with a headshake. “Things may not be great between us, but I’d never wish death on anyone. I’m a firm believer in karma.”
“Lucky me,” he teases.
We both go silent a moment. My hands sit firmly between my butt and the booth while Micah has his clasped in front of him on the table. He fumbles with his lower lip like he wants to ask me something, but doesn’t know how. His reluctance and uncertainty douse my blood with a thrill. Funny yet odd, I have never been this excited by someone feeling out of sorts.
He takes a sip of his coffee, then slowly sets the mug on the table, eyes fixed on the steam. “If you don’t mind my asking…” His eyes lift to meet mine. The gold hints shimmer in the brighter light and it throws me off balance for a breath. “Why do you hate me so much?”
I stare back at him with pursed lips. It would be so easy to just tell Micah my reasons. To spill my truth and help him remember the past instead of learning the answers on his own. But I won’t. After years of having to rebuild my confidence and strength, I vowed to never let anyone walk all over me again. Especially the man sitting across from me.
“The answer to that would take more time than we have tonight. And I’d have to answer that when I’m ready. Hope you figure it out before then.”
He drops his hands to his sides and leans back into the booth. “See, that’s what I don’t get.” I lift my brows in question. “More than once, you’ve insinuated we knew each other. Before you worked at Roar.”
I lean back and match his position. Stare at him and study every line and twitch of his face. Look for indications of deception in his brow line, eyes, or lips. But all I see is honesty and perplexity.
“You really have no idea, do you?”
He leans forward and wraps his hands back around the mug. “No. So, will you please tell me?”
“Not tonight,” I whisper before picking up my juice to drink. “Let’s talk about something else. Anything else.”
Anger still eats away at me for all the pain and embarrassment Micah and half the high school student body created. Yes, it happened several years ago. Yes, a therapist once told me I would never get past it if I don’t let go. But damn, letting go of such cruelty inflicted on me is difficult. If only he remembered. If only he apologized.
Maybe then I could move past the imprisoned emotions. God, it would be nice to free those demons.
“What do you do when you’re not at work?”
He wants to know about my life outside the bar. Learn more personal details. The question is vague enough to leave it open for any response. I doubt he wants to hear about my grocery trips and spring cleaning. He wants dirty details. Like if I have romantic interests with anyone. Especially after seeing me with Reese last night.
But he needs to work harder to earn that information.
“Mondays and Tuesdays, I work at an assisted living facility.”
His head jerks back in surprise. “You do?” I tuck my lips and nod. “What do you do there?”
Does he really want to know? Or is this just some jab at polite conversation?
Micah Reed finding anything I do interesting seems far-fetched. But he also doesn’t remember who I am. Not the younger me, anyway. Would he still be keen on knowing me if he did remember? A voice in the back of my head screams no, you dumbass! A different voice chimes in with what if he has changed?
Is it possible he has matured? That he actually cares about what women have to offer, other than what lies between their legs. I suppose all things are possible.
“Mostly crafts and games. I entertain and give them someone to talk to. Many don’t have family in the area and they get lonely. Friendships within the ALF help, but it isn’t the same.”
“Wow.” His lapis blue eyes hold mine and sparkle with amazement. “She’s beautiful and kindhearted.”