He grunts, and the server scratches something on his notepad. “And for the lady?”
“I’ll have what he’s having,” I say before thinking, a deer in headlights with so many choices.
“In the summer, they roller skate,” Austin says, nodding toward the server as he disappears inside the diner.
I nod my approval. “Did I do okay ordering?”
Austin turns down the radio, no longer humming along to George Jones. “If you like cheeseburgers and fries.”
“That’s the entire menu,” I observe. “In about a million different configurations.”
“That work for you?”
My body tightens, food still a sore subject. But his eyes are soft, attentive. “Works for me.”
“Best burger joint this side of the Missouri,” he adds.
“So, you’re not partial as a local?”
“Probably am. But you’ll see,” he says with a wink.
My heart flutters.
Can’t do that, Allie.
My phone sits heavy in my purse. Still no word from Trevor. Still no attempt on my part to reach out.
“Have you heard anymore?” I ask.
“About?”
“Him?”
He shifts a little in his seat. “Spoke to Mack this morning. Caught him trying to hot wire the 4Runner after we left.” He shakes his head. “Did a night in the drunk tank.”
I shiver. “He must be so mad.”
“Least he’s alive,” Austin reminds gently.
I nod.
The teen returns with two big white bags striped with red and two large drinks. Austin places them between us on the console, waiting for me to start before he dives in.
We eat in silence, crunching perfectly crisp fries. I grab a small round of ketchup, opening the lid and dipping a golden spear.
Austin eyes me for a moment, like he’s got something to say.
“What? You don’t like ketchup?” I ask.
“Not that. But I’ve got a secret. Only if you promise to take it to the grave.”
“A secret?” I chuckle as he pulls the top from his vanilla malt shake.
“Better for fries,” he says, plunging one into the ice cream.
I scrunch my nose like I’m staring down a sacrilege.
“What?”
