Page 23 of Working for the Teacher

“New York has incredible food. But nothing, and I mean nothing, beats a chocolate milkshake from Kincaid's.”

“Then we'll go tomorrow night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I'll pick you up at seven.”

Kincaid's hasn't changed since I was in high school, which is either comforting or depressing, depending on the day. Same vinyl booths, cracked in the same places. Same menu.

Ryder reaches for my hand the second we step through the door, and I let him take it, feeling the thrill of it all the way up my arm. He notices me smiling and something in his own face shifts in response, like he wasn't entirely sure I'd let him.

We slide into a booth near the window. Marlene ambles over with two menus we don't need and an expression that is doing absolutely nothing to hide her interest in what she's looking at.

“Well, look at this,” she says, glancing between us like she's already composing the version of this story she'll tell at the register later. “What are we having?”

“Cheeseburger, no onions, and a chocolate milkshake,” I say. “Please.”

“Same,” Ryder says. “Extra crispy fries. Thanks, Marlene.”

Marlene writes it down slower than necessary, still glancing between us, and finally wanders off toward the kitchen, presumably to report her findings to whoever's back there listening.

“We're going to be the talk of the whole town by morning,” I say.

“I think we already are.”

The door swings open a few minutes later, and I watch Ryder's whole posture change before I even turn to see who it is.

Eddie “Wrench” Morales. Everyone in Forge Creek knows Wrench, owner of Callahan Auto, and the man whose house Ryder broke into all those years ago, the reason for the arrest that sent him to juvie in the first place.

Eddie's eyes land on Ryder for exactly one second. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't nod. He just slides into a booth on the far side of the diner and leans over to say something to Marlene when she comes by.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Yeah.” Ryder's jaw is tight, and his eyes stay fixed on the table for a second before he manages to look back at me. “Just never stops being awkward, I guess.”

“You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.”

“No, it's fine.” He exhales, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders. “I've spent years trying to better myself. Doesn't matter how much I change. To Eddie, and probably half this town, I'm always going to be the kid who broke into his house.”

“That's not fair to you.”

“Maybe not. But I get it.” He glances toward Eddie's booth, quick, before looking back at me. “My own dad never really forgave me either. Died a few years back still thinking I was gonna end up right back where I started. Guess some people just decide who you are once and never bother updating the file.”

“I'm sorry,” I say.

Before I can say anything else, the door swings open again, and a woman I recognize instantly beelines straight for our booth.

“Oh my God. Charlotte Hayes?” Kristen Abbott, who sat two seats behind me in AP Chemistry and once told the entire junior class I cried during a pop quiz, which I absolutely did not. “I heard you were back in town.”

“Hi, Kristen.”

Her eyes flick to Ryder, then back to me, delighted in the specific way that means this is going straight into a group chat. “What are you doing with him?”

“We're on a date,” I say, more sharply than I need to, mostly because the question annoys me.

“Oh. So why'd you leave New York, anyway?”

Marlene arrives at that exact moment with our food, sliding the plates onto the table with a knowing look at Kristen that suggests even she thinks this is overstepping.