Page 55 of See It Through
“Good.” Teeth digging into her bottom lip, she stepped away from me. “Give me ten minutes. No—fifteen. You wrecked my hair last night. I have to deal with the consequences.”
She whirled away, and it took all my willpower not to follow her to her bedroom.
Saturday mornings, half the town of Sugar Brush converged at Grey’s Diner, and for good reason. The pancakes were steaming, and the bacon was crispy. I had early memories of coming here with both my parents, back before life went to hell. And later, memories of accompanying the Kellys here for breakfast, andlaterlater, when I was in high school hanging here with Caleb and our friends after Friday night football games.
Even with how busy it was, old man Grey ran a tight, efficient ship. We were led to a booth after waiting no more than five minutes. Along the way to our table, Hannah was stopped several times to greet neighbors and people who knew her family. I received nods and some looks of wariness, but I got that. I was somewhat of a stranger to this town now.
We finally slid into a two-seater, and though there were plenty of eyes on us, my focus was on the woman across from me. She’d tamed her hair into some kind of complicated braid draping over one shoulder, a few tendrils grazing the sides of her face. Her cheeks were rosy, lips shiny, lashes dark and sooty. There were light freckles sprayed across the bridge of her nose, and one had gone rogue, landing just below the bottom corner of her mouth.
She looked up from her menu and caught me staring. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re nice to look at,” I said. “Pretty as hell.”
The rose in her cheeks bloomed, but she quickly covered it up with a groan. “Aw, Remington, don’t go soft on me now.”
My brow winged. “It’s Remington again? What’d I do to deserve that?”
She chuffed. “The googly eyes and compliment. I can’t handle it.”
“You think you don’t deserve a compliment?”
“I don’t know.” She waved me off with a casual flick of her hand. “I’m not good at taking them, I guess. But…thank you. Sorry I’m such a weirdo.”
“You’re not a weirdo, but I do think you haven’t been complimented enough in your life.” I picked up my coffee-filled mug, warming my hands with it. “I’ll make it my goal while I’m here to get you inoculated to hearing how utterly gorgeous you are.”
She puffed up her cheeks and blew out a breath. “Please don’t. If you do, I’ll get used to it, and when you’re gone, I’ll be bereft of the praise you took with you. Let’s just keep on how we were, all right? That was working fine.”
There was more behind her request, but this wasn’t the time or place to dig. Besides, she was right. Did I even have the right to dig when this was temporary?
“If that’s how you want it,” I conceded.
Our orders were taken, then one of our high school teachers stopped by the table to catch up. Mrs. Shepherd had taught art and photography. She’d lent me her Nikon, and through her, I’d caught the bug.
“I’ve followed your career, Remi,” she said. “I have to admit, I tell anyone I can that I was your mentor at one time.”
That made me smile, knowing I’d been remembered so fondly. “Well, that’s the truth. Without you giving me your camera, I don’t know where I’d be.”
She was pleased with that and squeezed a promise from me to come visit her photography class once school started up again. When she left, Hannah raised an eyebrow.
“Won’t you be gone by September?”
Sudden dread weighed down my gut. “I keep telling you I don’t have plans. Well, I didn’t until now. I said I’d be here, so I’ll be here.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Where did you live before your last trip overseas?”
“With an ex-girlfriend in Seattle. It was her place. When I left for my last job, that was that.”
“Hmmm.” She rested her chin on her fist, her gaze lively and inquisitive. “In all these years, where did you consider home?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t have one. Not really. Seattle was off and on for two years, though a lot was off with me traveling. When I first left here, I ended up in New York. I crashed there, worked, took some classes. Then I met a freelance journalist headed to Central America, where a war was breaking out. He asked me to go with him to document it. I wasn’t attached to New York. When it came down to it, I wasn’t attached to anything, not even my own life, so I went.”
“How old were you? Nineteen? Twenty?”
“Twenty,” I confirmed. “Got my eyes opened real fast. This world we live in can be brutal. More than most of us lucky ones can even imagine.”
Our food was delivered, bringing a pause to our conversation. Hannah had gotten a stack of chocolate chip pancakes while I’d ordered fried eggs, bacon, and biscuits with gravy. The way Hannah’s face lit up as her food was placed in front of her made me wish I had my camera. Strange, considering I hadn’t picked it up since the accident. But if anything deserved documentation, it was this, now.
She didn’t dig in as quickly as I’d expected. After cutting a few pieces, she looked up at me. “I lied to you, you know.”