Don't Kiss the Bride

“What’s wrong?” Nobody ever turns down waffle fries.

“Nothing.”

“Spill it, Sparkles.”

She takes a deep breath. “You didn’t get my bun.”

I swallow my food and stare at her. “What? I thought you were kidding. You seriously wanted just a plain hamburger bun? With nothing else?” Why?

“Yeah.”

She’s dead serious.

“Stay put,” I say, putting my burger and its wrapper on the console.

She starts to say something, but I don’t hear her because I’ve already jumped out of the truck and shut the door behind me. If she wants a damn hamburger bun, I’m getting her one. I trudge inside the restaurant, stand in line for ten minutes, and ignore the crazy look I get from the kid behind the counter when I order a plain hamburger roll with no burger, no cheese—nothing.

“I don’t even know how to charge for this, so just take it,” he says, handing me the bag.

I throw a dollar into the tip jar. “Thanks.”

“Jude, oh my God, you didn’t have to do that,” Skylar says when I get back in the truck. “I feel bad…”

Handing her the bag, I say, “Don’t. I offered to get you something to eat, and I fucked it up. Now I made it right.”

Her face lights up with a shy smile that could probably stop traffic. “Thank you. For a badass-looking dude, you’re actually pretty nice.”

I almost choke on my fries. “You think I look badass?”

“A little, yeah. You’re very colorful.”

A deep laugh rumbles out of me. “Annnnd that’s badass how, exactly?”

“Okay, that’s a bad description. It’s just all the ink.” Her eyes scan over my arm and then back up to my face. “The muscles. The hair.”

At least she’s not petting me, like people do. They always want to touch my tats and my hair, and it creeps me the hell out.

“Why do you just want to eat bread? They have salads, chicken, fruit cups, milkshakes. I hope you didn’t get that to be cheap. I can afford to get you a real meal.”

Her shoulder lifts slightly. “This is just what I want.”

“Okay… As long as you’re happy.”

Hey, who am I to judge? I used to mash up peanut butter and jelly in a bowl and eat it with a spoon—sans bread.

“I got a raise today,” she blurts out as she picks the sesame seeds off her bun and puts them in the paper bag. “I’m kinda excited.”

“Congrats. What do you do there?”

“Usually I work the register, rotate the displays, that sort of thing. But now, Rebecca wants me to manage the store’s social media. She’s buying me a new iPhone to take pictures of the products and post online.”

Wow. Rebecca’s little boutique must be doing well to be handing out brand-new iPhones to a part-time, teen employee. “That sounds like a helluva lot more fun than working a register.”

“Right?” she practically squeals, excitement bursting into a big, dazzling smile. “I’m starting this weekend so I can pay for my car.”

It’s cute to see her so excited about her job. I used to sell dope back in high school to pay for stuff, but I’m not going to tell her that, so I just nod. That past should stay exactly where it is.

Stopping to eat and driving Skylar across town gets me home way later than I planned, and Cassie goes into a fit as soon as I walk through the front door. I’m sure she’s been staring at the door for the past three hours, pacing the house, getting herself all worked up.

“Calm down, girl,” I say as she runs circles around my feet, her furry tail wiggling. Bending down on my knee, I pet her head, and she does her little raspy bark and paw stomp, telling me off like she does.

Someone has to keep me in line. Might as well be a cute dog.

After I walk her in the yard, I head straight upstairs, pulling my shirt off as I go, with the dog on my heels.

“We’ll watch a movie after I shower,” I tell her, and she tilts her head at me in anticipation, because she knows the word movie means sit on the couch. That probably says an embarrassing amount about my life and social status.

I stand in the shower, breathing in the steam, until the hot water turns cold. My mind drifts back to dropping Skylar off at that creepy, dark house. As I was pulling away from her driveway, I glanced in my rearview mirror and caught her climbing through a window.

Can’t help but wonder what that’s all about.

My sister used to sneak in and out of windows, too. To meet boys. To party. Who knows what else?

When she went missing, we put posters up in a hundred-mile radius. I didn’t work for a month—searching nonstop for her. Sixteen-year-old girls don’t go missing in this small town. There was even a search party with special sniffing dogs and a helicopter. Two weeks later I received a text in the middle of the night: