Gunner and I exchanged a series of speaking looks, instead.
WTF is wrong?
Nothing. You imagined that.
Like hell I did.
Let it go.
For now. But this conversation isn’t over.
Pfft.
“What are your plans for today, Cotton? I’m teaching a dance class this afternoon, but my schedule is wide open, otherwise.”
Gunner shot one last puzzled look my way and turned to his girlfriend. “I’ll be in the north field this morning if you need me,” he told Shiloh, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He grabbed a dingy ball cap from a hook by the door and left.
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until it left me in a whoosh with the closing of the door. Shiloh cocked her head. “Are you okay? You’re white as a sheet.”
“I’m fine. Gunner came up behind me and startled me.”That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
“Okay.” She shrugged. “So, about today. Plans? Want to grab breakfast?”
“Breakfast sounds good,” I told her, and forced a smile. “I’ll just get my purse and put some shoes on.”
“Cotton?” Her hand on my arm stopped me as I passed, and I lifted an eyebrow in question. “I’m so glad you’re home. I missed you.”
My smile was less forced as I squeezed her hand with mine. “I am too, Shy.”
More than you’ll ever know.
“Something’s bothering you.” Shiloh held my gaze across the table as we waited on our breakfasts, pancakes for me and sausage gravy with biscuits for her. I shook my head.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
She made a sound of dissatisfaction. “Yeah, tell that to someone who doesn’t know you as well as I do. There’s been something wrong for well over a month now. You think I haven’t seen the circles under your eyes? The weight loss? That look in your eyes, even over Skype?”
I couldn’t do this. Not here. Maybe I’d give her the journal when we got back to her house, let her figure things out without me specifically having to acknowledge them. On the pretext of taking a sip of my coffee, I avoided the question and averted my eyes to the window beside our booth.
“Cotton.”
“I said nothing’s wrong.” Wearily, I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. I never snapped at her. Ever. She sat back in her seat now with a wounded expression, but more than the hurt, there was concern. I didn’t want that. “Sorry. I’m just tired.”
“I call bullshit.”
“Tell me what’s happening with you and Gunner. You’re looking pretty cozy.”
“Stop avoiding.”
“And Sammy. How’s he doing?” I had missed Sam, Shiloh’s younger brother and one of Gunner’s best friends.
“Not working.” She sang the words, and I closed my eyes.
“I can’t, Shy. Not yet.” I peered around the diner, busy with customers on this weekend morning. “Not here.” I had missed this place, with its cracked vinyl seats and wooden tabletops that had been etched over the years with the graffiti of thousands of bored teenagers. It was vintage small town, with its soda bar and buzzing fluorescent lights. I would tell her soon, bring her in on the horror that was my life, but not now. I wasn’t going to fuck with happy memories in that way.
The waitress chose that moment to bring our plates, and I was granted a reprieve as we settled into our meal. When Shiloh spoke again, it was as if she had forgotten the previous topic altogether.
“I think I told you, Sammy’s living in our old house. He’s doing really great, considering he was just released. He’s already walking. He’s using a cane, but he’s walking. Twiggy—you remember Twiggy?” I nodded, chewing. “She’s been hanging out with him a lot. I think there’s something there.”
