“Nothing like a burger from Ed’s.” I go through the ritual of taking the lettuce off and rearranging the pickles, squirting ketchup into my mayo before giving it a stir with a fry. When I look up, I see Sam watching me with a grin. “What?”
“If you don’t want the lettuce, why don’t you ask them to hold it with the tomato?”
“Because this is how I do it.” I munch on a fry. “It’s my routine. My Ed’s routine.”
“Okay.” He takes an onion ring and reaches over to dunk it in my sauce, but I slap his hand. “Hey. Don’t be stingy.”
“Get your own.” But I laugh and scoot the little dish closer to him. “Okay, I’ll share.”
“That looks beautiful on you.”
I blink at him. “What?”
“The laugh. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen it since…the day.”
I shrug a shoulder. “I haven’t felt much like laughing.”
And when I do, the guilt settles in again.
Monica doesn’t get to laugh anymore, why should I?
Because I’m alive.
“Okay, I won’t mention it again because you stopped laughing and now you look sad again.”
“I’m okay.” I take a big bite of burger. “This helps.”
I have to wipe ketchup off my chin.
“You’re so classy,” he says with a laugh.
“I know, right?”
“Hey, you guys.” We look up to find Mrs. Blakely standing at our table. She owns Little Deli on main street and was close to Sam’s parents when they were alive. “I don’t want to interrupt your lunch, I just wanted to stop by and see how you’re holding up.”
Here we go.
“We’re doing fine, thank you for asking,” Sam says in his polite voice. The one his parents taught him to use whenever speaking to an elder.
“Well, I’m sure you’re doing as well as you can, considering,” Mrs. Blakely says and gives his shoulder a soft pat. Then she turns her gaze to me, and I feel like squirming again. “How about you, dear? I’m sure the twins are giving you a run for your money.”
“They’re great.” I swallow the bite of burger that now tastes like cardboard.
“I’ve heard they’re having some trouble at the preschool,” she says, and I sigh.
For fuck’s sake, all I wanted to do was have lunch with Sam.
“You know what, I don’t think I’m hungry anymore.” I wipe my mouth and drop the napkin on the table. Sam sits back in his seat, anger warring with worry as he watches me. “Mrs. Blakely, you already paid your respects at the funeral. There’s no need to interrupt us during lunch and make us sad. Make us feel badly all over again. It’s rude. And it’s not okay.”
I push out of the booth and head for the door.
“Oh, my,” I hear her say, but I don’t give a shit.
This is why I rarely leave the house.
Because every damn time I do, I’m reminded that my best friend is gone, and she’s never coming back. She won’t get to see her gorgeous children grow up. She was robbed of everything.
All because a fucking landlord didn’t install a CO2 detector in a rental house.
“Tash.”
I hear Sam rush up behind me. He doesn’t take my arm, he simply wraps his arms around me and hugs me close from behind.
“I’m just so angry,” I whisper.
“I know. Me, too. They’re wrapping up our food to go. Let’s go home and eat in peace there.”
I nod as he turns me around to face him.
“I was rude to her.”
“She’ll survive.” He kisses my forehead, and tiny sparks of awareness appear in my belly, making me swallow hard. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 2
~Sam~
Bam!
I slam my fist into the punching bag and imagine that it’s the fucking landlord’s face. The asshole who killed my sister.
I hit, jab, and punch until the muscles in my arms and across my shoulders sing from the impacts. When I take a break and turn to sip some water, I see Noah King sitting on the bench behind me, tying his shoes and watching me silently.
Noah’s a friend. But I wasn’t expecting company.
Then again, I don’t own this gym.
“Hey, man.” I wipe the sweat off my brow with a towel. “You need the bag?”
“Nah, I’m lifting today,” he says as he stands, but he doesn’t walk toward the weights. “How’s it going, man?”
I shrug a shoulder and adjust my sparring gloves. “Same ol’.”
He raises a brow. “Bullshit.”
“I’m worried about Tash,” I admit with a sigh. “She’s all over the place with her moods, and I know she’s overwhelmed with having the kids full time. I take them when I’m not on call, but you know how it is around here. I’m almost always on call. She puts on a brave face for the twins, but when they’re not around, she just crumbles. She’s full of guilt and hasn’t even had time to grieve. Not really, you know?”
He nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, that’s rough. Kids are hard. Fallon’s pregnant with our second, and I’m scared to death.”