Chapter One
BEN
“Right this way, folks.”
The young hostess clutches three laminated menus to her chest like a shield, her eyes darting nervously toward me every few seconds before flicking back to the floor.
It’s a cold Friday morning in January, and the Iron Creek Diner is packed. But the chatter in the restaurant dies down the moment we step past the entryway. I keep my expression stone-cold, ignoring the hushed whispers that inevitably follow in my wake.
“Is that him?”
“That’s Ben Mitchell.”
“Look at the size of him.”
My brother Reign immediately shifts closer to his wife, his arm circling Audrey’s waist to pull her and the baby flush against his side. He shoots a warning glare at a guy two tables over who’s staring a little too hard.
I step ahead of them, using my broad shoulders to cut a path through the tight maze of tables. I act as the battering ram, drawing every gaze in the room so my brother and his family can pass in my shadow.
“Here we are,” the hostess squeaks. She gestures to the large corner booth that offers the most privacy. “Can I start you off with some drinks?”
“I’ll take a coffee, black,” Reign says as he slides into the booth, keeping Audrey tucked securely between himself and the wall.
“Decaf for me, please,” Audrey adds with a warm smile that seems to calm the girl’s nerves slightly.
“I’ll take a pitcher of water, no ice,” I say, sliding into the seat across from them. “Thanks.”
The hostess nods rapidly and practically sprints toward the kitchen.
“Geez, way to go, Ben,” Audrey teases as she unbuckles the carrier on the table. “I think you scared the poor girl half to death.”
I shrug.
“Not the first time, won’t be the last.” I lean forward, eyeing the bundle Audrey’s unwrapping. “Here, let me hold him.”
Audrey hesitates for only a second before passing my nephew, Leo, to me. His weight settles against my forearm, surprisingly solid for something so small. He looks up at me with those dark eyes, studying me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m friend or foe.
“What’s up, little man?” I say, keeping my voice low. “Look at you, already sizing me up for a fight.”
Reign chuckles, then leans back against the booth.
“So, little brother,” Reign says, leaning back against the booth. “How's it feel being back in the Creek?”
I don't answer right away. Leo fidgets against my chest, and I let my gaze drift across the diner while I settle him.
A couple in the corner booth shares a plate of pancakes, their toddler smearing syrup across the table while they laugh about it. Near the window, a man about my age bounces a babyon his knee while his wife flags down the waitress for more napkins. Two kids race past our table toward the bathroom, their mother's half-hearted “walk, please” trailing after them.
I used to sit in that corner booth with my Mom on Saturday mornings, working through a stack of silver dollar pancakes while Reign tried to flirt with whatever waitress was on shift. I never noticed how many high chairs this place had back then. How many sticky fingers and crumb-covered shirts. How many families.
Now I'm the guy taking up a whole side of a booth by himself, holding someone else's kid.
“It's good,” I finally say. “Still feels like home.”
“Well, the town is certainly glad to have you back,” Audrey says, stirring cream into her decaf. “Everyone’s talking about the fight tomorrow night. They can’t believe that the famous Ben Mitchell is hanging up his boxing gloves after all this time.”
“You nervous?” Reign asks.
“About Sanchez? Nah,” I snort. “The man throws punches like he’s underwater. I’ll put him down in three rounds, tops.” I bounce Leo gently when he starts to fidget. “Besides, better to go out on top than get carried out on a stretcher.”
