Page 8 of Devil’s Snare

“I’m gonna hold you to that, G.”

He ended the call, and my thoughts immediately began to wander, drawn to the stranger dressed in black. I had a feeling Cin appeared only when he wanted to be seen. How long had he been in the cemetery and possibly watching me?

That wasn’t half as disturbing as being shoved to the ground by an invisible demon dog named Omen. I’d have to think about that later when I wasn’t so mentally and physically exhausted.

By the time I reached the diner, I contemplated telling my brother we needed to reschedule. But I couldn’t do that to him, not after burying Becka.

For a moment, the pain resurfaced and almost strangled me. I sucked air into my lungs, gripping the steering wheel tight as I fought the sting of tears. Once I regained control, I exited the truck and headed inside to meet my brother.

Ethan stood as soon as he saw me. His concerned gaze swept over me from head to toe before his shoulders relaxed, and some of the tension eased. “Hey.” He opened his arms, and I sank into his embrace, thankful I still had my other sibling in my life. “You okay?”

“I’m trying to be,” I replied honestly as he released me. I took the seat opposite him, sinking onto the worn but comfortable cushion.

“French fries and ranch?”

Our usual order. Becka’s favorite late-night snack, and mine too. A hangover cure she swore by.

Or used to.

Nodding, I spread a napkin open, taking a few seconds to spread out the silverware. “And a strong coffee,” I added.

“Good. I already ordered. Shouldn’t be long.”

I sat forward and rested my elbows on the table, dropping my head into my hands. Ethan’s stare felt heavy as he watched me rub my temples. When I lifted my head, I caught sight of his bruised and busted knuckles.

He dealt with his shit his way. Boxing. The ring was the one place he could work out his demons, and violence seemed to work for him as long as it occurred in a controlled setting. My brother wasn’t the confrontational type unless you pushed him too far. His hot button topics included his sisters, his ex-girlfriend, and his motorcycle.

Nothing else fazed him.

“Spend the night in the ring?”

“Had to have something to do while I waited for you.”

“What about Tiffany?” The ex. His on-and-off, cold-and-hot relationship with his childhood sweetheart was a sore subject on most nights. Right now? I wasn’t sure.

Ethan’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “She’s out of town.”

Interesting.

“You’ve got dirt all over you,” he informed me. “What did you do? Roll around on top of her grave?”

“Something like that,” I murmured, thinking of Omen.

He opened his mouth to comment with something that was probably snarky when the waitress approached us. Instead, he nodded toward her as she brought a carafe of coffee, a little white bowl full of single-serving, vanilla-flavored coffee creamers, and two mugs. Sugar was already on the table.

“Here ya go. I’ll go grab those fries and be back in a minute.”

Ethan poured us both a mug two-thirds full, leaving a bit of room for the creamer and sugar we both used. He snatched the little container full of sugar packets and pushed it close. Neither of us said a word as we stirred the sweetener and creamer in and took our first sip. A joint sigh escaped as the caffeine hit our systems.

“I needed this,” I murmured as the waitress returned.

She set a large platter of crispy, hot fries and two sides of ranch dressing between us. Not the stuff that was too thin and barely stuck to anything. This diner used the thick homemade version, and the ranch seasoning was delicious.

Then she added another plate beside it. “I had Mitch make a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches on the house. You both look like you could use a little something more in your bellies.”

“Thanks,” Ethan replied as she winked at him and walked away.

I didn’t think she was flirting since she had to be over fifty. More like it came from a motherly instinct. Or maybe we just looked like we’d been to hell and back. I sure felt like it.