Beautiful Sacrifice (8 page)

I was cackling like a maniac, unable to control my laughter.

“Did you like that?”

“I’m not even sure what happened!”

“I flipped you.”

“Flipped me? I just did a flip? In the air?” I asked, using my index finger to make invisible little circles.

“Yep. I’ve ruined you for all other first dates. Admit it.”

I missed a step as I looked down and then back up. “This isn’t a date.”

“Okay, I’ll buy you dinner. What’s open?”

I stopped dancing. “This isn’t a date. If anything, we’re friends.”

Taylor leaned in, his nose caressing the edge of my ear. “That never works out for me.”

I stepped back. The feeling coming over me was more than just a tad alarming. I waved at him and began to walk away, but he tugged on my shirt.

Then his hands fell to his sides. “C’mon, Falyn. You weren’t serious about that, were you? We were having fun.”

“It was fun. Thank you.”

I stepped off the dance floor and waved to Dalton and Zeke. Then I pushed through several people to get to the exit. I escaped through the door and walked into the warm summer night air, taking a big breath.

He is going to appear in three, two—

“Falyn!” Taylor said from behind me.

I suppressed a smile. “You said you wouldn’t even walk me home, remember?”

Disappointment darkened Taylor’s eyes, but he kept his expression smooth. “Whatever you say, Ivy League.”

It was a risk. If his ego weren’t as durable as I thought, he’d never speak to me again. But of all the arrogant bastards I’d ever come across, Taylor Maddox surpassed every one.

Still, I had to toss him a bone. I leaned up on the balls of my feet and kissed him on the cheek, letting my lips linger on his skin for just a second longer. Taylor came closer, drawn to my mouth, his face turning less than a centimeter toward me. I backed away, but when our eyes met, he looked completely different. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but something had changed.

“Good night.”

“Night,” he said softly.

I began my return home, pausing at the stoplight to press the button for the crosswalk. Tejon Street had moderate traffic for a weekend night, not that I had much to compare it to. Usually, by this time, I would be lying on my couch, eating cheese and crackers while reading one of the trash mags Kirby loved to bring to work to read on breaks.

“Hey!” Dalton said, running up to me.

I raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“He promised he wouldn’t walk you home. But he didn’t promise he wouldn’t make me walk you home.”

I shook my head, trying to subdue the victory welling up inside of me. “I can handle walking across the street.”

“Just pretend I’m walking in the same direction then.”

I sighed. “Are all hotshots this difficult?”

“Are all Ivy League grads this difficult?”

“I’m an Ivy League dropout.”

Dalton smiled. “You’re all right, Falyn.”

I smiled back.

The light changed, and Dalton and I silently crossed the street, passing two businesses before we reached the front door of the Bucksaw. I pulled the key ring from my pocket and stabbed the dead bolt with one of the two keys hanging from the ring.

“You live here or something?”

“Upstairs.”

“That’s convenient,” Dalton said.

“And cheap.”

“I can relate. Night, Falyn.”

“Take care, Dalton. It was nice meeting you.”

He nodded, returning to Cowboys. The dance club was across the street and another two doors down, but I could see Taylor and Zeke standing together on the sidewalk, smoking, chatting, and intermittently checking my progress.

I pulled the door open before closing and locking it behind me. The blinds were drawn, and the lights were off in the dining area. I fumbled around until I found the stairs leading to my loft.

The second key fit in my door. I turned the lock until I heard a click, and then I twisted the knob to my empty apartment. Most Friday nights, I could hear the throbbing bass from Cowboys as I lay in bed, and this night was no exception. But this time, I looked through the letters in my shoebox, my eyes watering at the return address on all the envelopes, with the possibility of being in Eakins soon becoming a reality.

The feeling was so surreal—being hopeful for the first time since I’d lost hope.

“Order up!” Chuck yelled from the window in an authoritative deep tone that he only used for that purpose.

It was a gorgeous Saturday afternoon, the normal river of voices louder and more animated. Families occupied almost every table with babies crying, a toddler running in circles around his table, and teenagers hovering over a single cell phone and then bursting into laughter.

Hannah, the high schooler who would help on the weekends, checked on each table, stopping briefly before moving on like a hummingbird in a field of flowers.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” Hannah cried, nearly mowing over the two-year-old who had been a moving obstacle since his parents were seated.

“Jack! Get your heinie over here now!” his mother growled.

Jack ran toward his mother with a smile on his face, knowing that he hadn’t yet completely worn out her patience.

“Jeebus,” Hannah said, blowing away a few long golden strands that had fallen into her face. “It’s not even a holiday weekend.”

“Thanks for coming in,” I said, pouring sun tea into four tall cups. “I know you had volleyball practice early.”

“I’ll be a senior this year. I can’t believe it.” She sighed. “What are you going to do without me next summer?”

“You’re not coming back to work?”

She shrugged. “Mom said she wants to travel together all summer before I leave for college.”

“That sounds fun,” I said with a polite smile.

“You’re lying,” Hannah said.

“You’re right. Traveling with Blaire for an entire summer sounds like a form of punishment.”

Hannah pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry you don’t get along with your parents. You’re so nice.”

Hannah didn’t have the impossible-to-satisfy, overbearing evil queen that was Dr. Blaire Fairchild.

“Blaire would lose her shit if a pant leg was peeking out of the dirty laundry hamper, and being forced to wait in any line would turn her into an even worse version of herself. Amusement parks were out of the question. I’m glad you’re doing that though. With your mother, I’m sure it will be fun.”

Hannah’s grin disappeared. “Crap, I need to get the Ashtons cashed out. John Delaney just came in with his munchkins.”

“All five of them?” I asked, turning to see the answer.

John was loaded down with two baby carriers holding his twin sons. His wife, Marie, readjusted their three-year-old daughter on her hip and then leaned down to say something to her two school-aged daughters.

John used to be the girls’ lacrosse coach, but he was now a salesman at a Ford dealership. He was distracted by his children, and I tried my best not to look too long in their direction.

“Oh, wow. Marie’s a champ,” I said.

“Or nuts,” Hannah said. “Didn’t they almost get a divorce a few years ago, right before he quit coaching?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t pay attention to the gossip.”

With a bright smile, Hannah rushed the black leather bill presenter to table eight. I filled a small bowl with lemons and then took the drink tray to table twelve.

“Are you all set to order?” I asked, readying my pen and pad.

“How’s your dad doing, Falyn?”

I glanced at Brent Collins, who had clearly asked the question with an agenda in mind. No longer the Snickers-eating pudgy classmate I’d graduated with, Brent was now the CrossFit instructor down the street.

“He’s been busy,” I said. “You should try the roast turkey. It is exceptionally amazing today.”

“I don’t eat meat. I’ll have the kale salad. What happened to you? Weren’t you in med school or something?”

“Not really.”

“You didn’t go to Dartmouth?” he asked.

“I did. So, you’re a vegetarian? So, no egg on the salad? Dressing? Phaedra makes a homemade green goddess with vegan mayo that is pretty badass.”

“Perfect. Dusty, didn’t you hear that Falyn went to Dartmouth?”

Dusty nodded, sipping his tea. Both men were with their girlfriends. All of them had either graduated with me or the year after.

“Nice ring,” I said to Hilary.

She patted Dusty on the arm. “He did good, didn’t he?”

Dusty smiled. “I sure did, baby.” He looked at me. “She doesn’t know that she’s way out of my league, so I had to put a ring on it, right?”

I grinned. “Right.”

Two bacon cheeseburgers and two kale salads later, I was dropping off a new table’s order sheet at the window and picking up an appetizer to table one for Hannah.

“Thank you!” Hannah called as I served her table.

I liked Hannah, but I barely knew her. She was still in high school, so she was worlds away from where I was in life. She had every opportunity still in front of her. I was running away from anything that remotely resembled a future—at least a set one.

“Just seated table three for you,” Kirby said as she grabbed more menus from behind the bar.

I looked up, and I had to harness the smug smile trying to erupt across my face. “Thank God,” I whispered.

“So, you had a good time with him then?” Phaedra asked, dropping off clean menus.

“He’s from Eakins, Illinois.”

Phaedra blinked. “What did you say?”

“Taylor. He’s from Eakins.”

Phaedra paled. “Did you tell him?”

My nose wrinkled. “Of course not.”

“Tell him what?” Kirby asked.

“It’s personal,” Phaedra snapped. “She’ll tell you if she wants to, but don’t bug her about it.”

“All right,” Kirby said, her eyes bulging for half a second, as she raised her hands, palms out.

“It’s nothing,” I said.

Kirby looked at table three and then back at me. “They specifically asked for you.”

“Good,” I said, letting them get settled before heading over.

“Falyn!” Brent called.

I stopped at their table. “Sorry. I’ll be right back to top off your drinks.”

“What happened with Dartmouth?” he asked. “Your mom told mine you were kicked out. Is that true?”

“Stop it, Brent.” Hilary frowned.

My words were stuck in my throat. It had been a long time since someone asked about my past. “No. I left.”

“Why?” Brent asked.

I swallowed.

“Leave her alone,” John said, turning around in his chair. His cheeks instantly flushed.

Brent made a face. “Hey, Coach Delaney. Funny seeing you here.”

John glanced at me and then returned his attention to his wife, who was unaware, still fussing over the babies.

Phaedra cupped my shoulders, smiling at Brent. “I’ll just get your check, if you’re in a hurry to leave.”

“No, thank you,” Brent said, stumbling over his words. “We’ll just, um … I’m sorry. I was rude. If it’s okay, we’d like to stay.”

Brent’s girlfriend and Hilary were clearly angry with his behavior.

“Good idea,” Phaedra said before walking away.

I bit my lip, feeling a bit nauseous, and I retreated to the drink station.

Dalton, Zeke, and Taylor were reading over their menus, once again covered in soot and sweat, each hooking his hard hat over his knee.

“So, my mom wants to start the trip at Yellowstone,” Hannah said, putting miniature lids on tiny cups for Delaney children. “We’ve been there at least a dozen times, but she wants to start there, so that’s that. I want to go down the whole West Coast and see what LA is like.”

“Have you ever been?” I asked, distracted by the dirty men near the window. I would have to win them all over, not just Taylor.

Hannah shook her head, waiting for me to answer my own question.

“Yes,” I said, remembering my own trip to LA, “with Blaire.”

“See? You can travel with her.”

“It was for a medical conference. I spent all day in the hotel room. I think she only brought me to help her with her bags while she shopped.”

“Oh. That sounds kind of … awful. But at least, if you got sick, she could take care of you. She’s a doctor, right?”

“A cardiothoracic surgeon. She’s rated as one of the top five in the country.”

“Wow. That’s pretty amazing!”

“She is an amazing surgeon.”

“Well, that’s something.”

I grimaced. Blaire did not like dust or people who were overly chatty or overly happy, and she hated to be looked in the eye, as if anyone without a PhD was her equal. That was why she was a surgeon. If she were the best—and she was—her bedside manner wouldn’t matter as long as she fixed what was broken.

The one thing she couldn’t fix was the one person she’d broken.

“Falyn? Table five is asking for their check,” Kirby said.

“Oh!” I tapped on the touch screen, and a receipt began to print. I ripped it off and stuck it in the black leather bill presenter before bringing it to a family of four.

“Thank you so much,” I said, smiling. “Have a great day.”

I checked on my other tables, filled a few glasses, and then approached table three.

“Hi, boys. Are you having the same today or something different?”

They all dipped their heads in unison.