Nobody Knows (SWAT Generation 2.0 11)

He opened the door for me, crowded me close at the hostess station, and all but stood on top of me as he walked with me to the seat the hostess had chosen for us. Allllllll the way at the back of the diner, allowing Malachi to put his back to the wall.

“You been here before?” I asked curiously.

He lifted his gaze to mine once he was seated comfortably and nodded once. “I have. I come here every day that I’m off.” He tapped his temple. “Demons don’t sleep.”

My heart dropped into my stomach.

“You sleep that bad?” I asked worriedly.

He shrugged. “I sleep. I guess that’s something that should matter?”

No. Just ‘sleep’ wasn’t good enough. You had to have enough of it to function.

“You know,” I said casually. “My father takes this medication every night. It’s non-addictive, you won’t become dependent on it, and it helps him sleep all the way through the night.”

His eyes quickly met mine.

“Will it make me groggy if I have to wake up in the middle of the night?” he asked curiously.

Now that I didn’t have an answer on.

“Well.” I paused. “He was taking it when he was on the SWAT team, and I would assume that he wouldn’t have continued to take it if that was a side-effect of the drug. I could ask him for you, though.”

He looked like I’d just handed him the fucking moon.

“Would you?” he asked.

I immediately pulled out my phone and sent the text, then shoved it back into my pocket as I tried not to stare at him.

Malachi was one of those people that really drew your eye.

He was tall, handsome, and had the most beautiful gray eyes that took my breath away every time I found myself staring into them.

He was muscular and had an intenseness about him that sometimes took me by surprise when I found myself under his full scrutiny.

“Done,” I told him huskily. “What are you ordering?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and was fully engrossed in his menu when the door to the diner opened again, causing Malachi to tense.

Upon seeing an elderly lady walk in, he immediately relaxed.

“I’m ordering…” He paused when the waitress came up to take our orders.

“I’m listening, dear.” She chuckled.

Malachi gestured at me to start, and I gave my order before sitting back and waiting for him to place his.

I listened in a sense of awe as he ordered, plate after plate, until he’d all but gotten around to saying nearly the entire menu.

“Any questions?”

I blinked at Malachi, but he wasn’t paying any attention to me.

He was paying attention to the waitress who’d just taken his colossal order.

“There’s no way on God’s green earth you’re going to eat all of that,” I said as the waitress smiled, flapped her notebook at him, and walked away.

Malachi’s eyes turned to me, his face a little stony.

“When I was imprisoned,” he said softly. “Food was scarce. I guess I haven’t really gotten to the point where I can just let it go at this point. I think that it’s easier and healthier to allow myself to buy everything than it is to just fight the feeling that I need to.”

That was understandable, and a little bit saddening.

I gently tried to steer the conversation away from his insecurities, and instead focused on something that he obviously loved to talk about—his grandmother.CHAPTER 10If a girl says she’ll be ready in five minutes, there’s no reason to remind her every fifteen minutes of it.-Sierra to MalachiMALACHIGabriel,

Graduation night was… fun.

Not.

So I got drunk, my dad caught me, and then made me ride home in the back of his police cruiser.

There were four of us back there and one of my friends decided to throw up on all of us while we were driving home. Needless to say, I learned my lesson—never drink in the same town as my father again.

I haven’t heard from you in a while.

I’m getting worried.

It’s been over four months now. That’s the longest that we’ve gone since we started writing each other.

I hope to hear from you soon,

Sierra

• • •

“You’re freakin’ joking.” She laughed, looking at me like she couldn’t quite believe what I’d just said.

“Nope,” I said. “The fucking top dog. She challenged him right then and there to a push-up contest. It was… enlightening.”

I’d just gotten done telling her the story of the day that I’d sworn myself in to the United States Military.

How my grandmother had seen the man at the front of the room, marched right up to him, and had all but informed him he was a pussy if he didn’t do a push-up contest with her.

Of course, it’d happened.

And though my grandmother hadn’t won, she sure the hell hadn’t been badly beaten, either.

“Your grandmother is a hoot,” she admitted as she walked with me out of the doctor’s office.