“He’s from Eakins,” I said simply.
“Eakins? Like Eakins, Illinois, Eakins?”
“Yes.” I bit my lip.
“Does he know?”
“No, he doesn’t know. Phaedra asked the same thing. Why would I suddenly start telling everyone?”
Chuck shrugged. “Just asking. You know, Falyn … I’ve offered before—”
“No, Chuck. You’re not paying my way to Eakins. You already do too much.”
“How much money do you need? Can’t be much more now?”
“Nope. I’m almost there. Every time I’ve gotten close, something’s come up.”
“Like when you helped Pete buy tires?”
“Yep.”
“And when you paid that ticket for Kirby?”
“Yep.”
“And when you got sick a couple of years ago?”
“That, too.”
“Are you still paying on that hospital bill?”
“No, I paid it off a few months ago. Thank you.”
“You should let us help, Falyn. You’ve helped people, and this is important.”
“Yes, it is. That’s why I have to do it on my own.”
I looked at table three. Taylor glanced over at me, and we locked eyes for a moment.
“Or at least, mostly on my own.”
Chuck busied himself again with the soup. “That is going to be one pissed off young man when he figures out what you’re doing.”
My chest sank in. “I already feel bad enough.”
“Good. At least you still have a conscience.”
I looked down at my feet, feeling worse by the second. The high I’d felt moments before was completely replaced with guilt. “Did Phaedra go to the back?” I asked.
He nodded. “She’s making cheesecakes.”
“Oh,” I said, knowing it would be a while before I saw her.
The Delaneys waved to Kirby as they gathered their children to leave. Marie carried the twins’ carriers, so John could handle their toddler. The girl was being carried over John’s shoulder, her little feet kicking wildly as she screamed.
“Whew,” Hannah said. “I’m adopting a ten-year-old.”
I watched as the Delaneys walked out to their car, parked in one of the angled spaces in front of the Bucksaw. The father fought to get his daughter into her car seat, alternately pleading with her and then scolding her.
“Yeah,” I said, distracted.
John secured the girl and then patted his own jeans, saying something to his wife before returning to the bar.
He stopped just in front of me, leaning in. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “She asked why we never come in here anymore. I’ll try not to come back.”
I shook my head. “It’s fine. I understand.”
“I’m truly sorry, Falyn. For everything,” he said again, pulling his wallet from his pocket before jogging outside.
All the air felt like it had left the room with John, and I stood there, unable to move or breathe.
Kirby wandered behind the bar, saying hello to the regulars before leaning over the counter on her elbows. “I didn’t think that rush would ever let up.” She picked at the corner of a menu and then sighed. “Hey, I’m talking to you. Are you going to tell me what you haven’t told me?”
“Not today,” I said, snapping back to the present.
Kirby pouted. “So, do you like him? Because … you’re being you but different. You always act weird when a guy tries to pursue you, but you’re not running this one off.”
“Who?” I asked, my voice higher than I wanted.
Kirby rolled her eyes. “Taylor, stupid.”
“Yeah. Why is that?” Hannah asked. “What’s with the weirdness when it comes to guys?”
I glowered at her. “Go check your tables.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, turning on her heels.
“I’m serious,” Kirby said. “I thought you were just pissed at your parents. Until recently, I didn’t realize that you also hated men, and then Taylor happened.”
“I don’t hate men.”
I stole a glance at Taylor. He did the same to me, so I looked away for a moment. With a small smile lingering on his face, he was talking to his crew again.
“I like men. I just don’t have time for them.”
“No,” she said, scratching at a speck on the counter, “it’s something else.” She grabbed a clean cloth and a spray bottle, and she headed to the main dining area to bus tables.
“Order up!” Chuck yelled, startling me.
I brought a round tray to the window before loading it with the hotshot crew’s entrees.
“You okay, kiddo?” Chuck asked.
“I got it,” I said, fitting one edge into the crook of my neck as I centered my palm beneath the tray.
“That’s not what I meant,” Chuck said.
“I know,” I called back as I walked away.
The boys were chatting when I approached them, and three pairs of eyes lit up when they recognized the tray of food was theirs.
“Wrap,” I said, placing it in front of Dalton.
“Crepe,” I said, lowering it to the table before Zeke.
“Denver omelet with jalapenos.”
Taylor reached out, and I handed his plate to him.
“The plate is warm,” I warned.
“Doesn’t bother me,” Taylor said with a half smile. Just as I turned, he touched my elbow. “I am capable of just hanging out as friends, you know.”