“Little bird.”
“Oh,” I say before diverting my gaze anywhere but his eyes. “Why little bird?”
Henry leans back in the booth and tilts his head in thought. I finally gain the courage to meet his gaze, and I wish I didn’t. As soon as our eyes meet, my body feels like it could melt into the faux leather sticking to my skin.
“It’s nothing, really,” he says casually, making my heart stop. “I thought of it after you showed me your tattoo the first night we met. It’s always the first thing my eyes go to when I see you.”
I bite my lip at the unexpected answer, my mind spinning. My hand traces over the tattoo behind my ear as I try to hide my smile. “Tell me more about yourabuela,” I ask, remembering that he mentioned he learned Spanish from her.
“Yes,” he beams with a whole new light. “She met her husband shortly after moving to California from Puerto Rico, and then they had my mom. They lived all over the place but eventually settled down in Pittsburgh. Myabuelopassed awaybefore I was born, but myabuelawas very adamant about teaching me her culture growing up. Even after she passed, mymamástill makes sure to keep our traditions alive. She makes me talk to her in Spanish during our weekly calls.”
“That’s sweet,” I say with a hint of bitterness bubbling below the surface. I wish I had something or anything I shared with my own mother. The only thing I inherited from my family was a shit ton of generational trauma.
I can tell Henry notices my subtle change in mood by the way his eyes soften. He opens his mouth to respond, but his phone buzzes on the tabletop, cutting him off. I send out a silent prayer for the interruption.
He turns it over immediately, and his brow furrows for a whole new reason. I keep my eyes glued to his face, not wanting to look at his phone and come across as nosey. He quickly replies to whoever texted him and firmly places the phone down again.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he responds. I can tell he’s hesitant about explaining what’s happening, but he continues anyway. “My dad wants me to come to Sunday dinner at his house. It’s a tradition he does with hisnewfamily. I’ve turned him down the last few times, but I’m starting to feel guilty.”
“I don’t think you should feel guilty. Relationships like that take time to heal, and if you try to force something when you’re not ready for it, it’s not going to end well.”
Henry leans back against the booth on the opposite side of me and presses his lips together as his eyes roam over my face. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
“Maybe,” I panic, trying to divert the conversation again. “All I’m saying is don’t feel pressured to do anything before you’re ready.”
“Now you sound like a parent giving their kid the sex talk for the first time,” he retorts with a smirk.
My ears perk up at the mention ofthatword. It’s hardenough to stay composed around Henry without dredging up the one thought I’ve desperately tried to bury. No matter how hard I try, the image of his strong back muscles refuses to leave my mind.
“Great,” I say before clearing my throat. “I just realized I’ll have to give my sweet baby boy the sex talk one of these days. Thanks a lot for that.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiles, taking a sip of the water in front of him.
I try to even my breathing while looking around the small diner. I wasn’t kidding when I said it was a hole in the wall. The faded floral wallpaper was peeling at the edges, and the dusty pictures hanging on the walls seemed more like a half-hearted attempt to hide the damage than actual decoration.
My eyes trail over to a few familiar faces gathering for a late afternoon lunch and I notice they’re staring right back. It takes me a minute to figure out why I’m the center of attention today, but then I remember the man sitting across from me. New people shined like gold in small towns. I still remember the stares my mom and I received during our first few years here.
The waitress is the one that pulls me out of my mind fog. “What will it be today, kids?”
I smile brightly at Rosy, who’s worked at the café since I was little. She and her husband bought this diner over thirty years ago when they moved to the area. Years of working in the food service industry have created a hard exterior, but Rosy was still as sweet as ever. She didn’t take shit from anyone but always took care of her regulars.
I also loved that no matter how old I was, she always referred to me askid.It used to bother me, but the older I get, the more I appreciate it. “We’ll take two number five meals.”
Rosy takes a moment to look Henry up and down before nodding and moving to the next table to take their order.
“So, we never finished our conversation earlier. Why did you pick the strip mall as the murder den?”
“Murder den? I like it,” he teases. “I’m not entirely sure. I have to stick to the author’s storyline about how the murderer was abandoned at the strip mall by his biological parents and adopted by this strict religious family. So, it made more sense to me to have him lure victims to the strip mall because that’s where he was hurt and that’s where he wants to hurt others.”
“Oh, okay. That makes sense.”
“I don’t mean to bore you with the specifics,” he says.
“If I thought it was boring, I wouldn’t ask,” I chide. “Plus, I need to know what you’re writing so we can properly location scout.”
“Fair. If you were going to get murdered in Honey Grove, where would you want it to be?”
