For a second my brain refuses to understand what I’m looking at. It’s like spotting a ghost in a crowd. Familiar shape. Familiar stance. Alex is sitting on a stool at the counter with his elbows braced wide, like he owns the space. His eyes are already on me.
The plate tilts in my hands. I catch it just before it slides off, but my pulse is suddenly pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears.
No.
The word echoes through me, hollow and desperate. He’s not supposed to be here. He can’t be here. I drove hours away. I changed towns. I disappeared.
But he’s here. And he’s smiling.
It’s not a nice smile. It never is. It’s the one that says he’s already decided how this conversation ends.
I force my feet to move. Table three is waiting. I set the plate down with a smile that feels glued to my face.
“Anything else I can get you?” I ask.
The woman at the table shakes her head. “Looks perfect, honey.”
I nod and turn away before my hands start shaking enough for her to notice. Every instinct in my body is screaming run, but there’s nowhere to run inside this diner. The back door is too far. The kitchen is full of people. And Alex is watching me like a cat watching a trapped bird.
I approach the counter because not approaching him would be worse. Because if I pretend he isn’t here, he’ll make a scene, and the thought of him dragging my mess into this warm, safe place makes my stomach twist.
I stop a few feet away. “What are you doing here?”
My voice is low. Controlled. It doesn’t sound like the panic clawing up my throat.
Alex looks me over slowly, his gaze dragging from my face down to my uniform and back again. “There you are,” he says, like he’s been mildly inconvenienced. “I’ve been looking for you.”
My fingers curl into my apron. “You need to leave.”
He laughs under his breath. “That’s not how this works.”
Mae appears at my side, wiping her hands on a towel. “Everything okay, Wren?”
Alex turns his charm on her so fast it makes me dizzy. “We’re fine,” he says smoothly. “Just a family conversation.”
Mae’s eyes flick to me. A question. A check-in.
“I’ve got it,” I whisper.
She doesn’t look convinced, but she nods and moves back toward the kitchen. I feel the moment her attention leaves like a door closing.
Alex leans closer. I can smell his cologne over the scent of coffee and grease. It makes my stomach churn.
“You’re done running,” he says quietly. “It’s time to come home and stop playing games.”
“I’m not playing games,” I whisper back. “I live here now.”
His jaw tightens. “No, you don’t. You ran off like a child throwing a tantrum. You embarrassed me.”
My cheeks burn. “I didn’t embarrass you. I left.”
“You abandoned your responsibilities,” he snaps softly. “You think you get to disappear and stick me with everything? After everything I’ve done for you?”
The guilt is automatic. It’s a reflex he built into me brick by brick. My chest tightens and for a second I’m fourteen again, standing in a hospital hallway with my world ripped open, clinging to the only family I have left.
Then I remember the empty shoebox. His smile when he admitted he took it.
“You stole from me,” I say.
