Come to Me Quietly

“Don’t, Aly.” He ran his thumb over my cheek. “You think I can’t feel this? How badly you want the things I can’t give you? That’s why it makes me sick that I’m doing this, because I already warned you… you can’t fix me, and you can’t say or do something that will change my mind or fill up the void in my soul.”

There was no anger in his words. Just sadness.

He increased his hold on my face and I nuzzled closer to him, wishing I could disappear inside him. Wished I could fill that void.

“I know that. I just care about you,” I whispered seriously.

A wistful smile quivered around his mouth, his eyes gentle, and I knew he cared about me, too.

“I know you do, Aly,” he admitted before his blue eyes dimmed. “Just be careful that you don’t care too much.”

I pulled his hand from my face, kissed across the numbers tattooed on the ripped and torn knuckles of his left hand: 2006. Death.

The year he’d lost it all.

I prayed that somehow he could again learn to live again.

The next day, I had to get up early because I was scheduled to work both the breakfast and lunch shifts. Jared had crept from my bed sometime in the very early morning hours, but not without leaving me another glimpse into his thoughts.

The foul spoils the beauty.

His words both touched me and saddened me.

I’d left him with a token of me, a tender kiss I’d placed just below his ear. He’d smiled, his sleepy eyes flickering open to look at me as soft words rasped from his hoarse throat. “Hi, beautiful.”

I’d left feeling good. Alive. As if maybe Jared and I had stumbled upon some kind of understanding, as unstable as it was.

I blew the bangs back from my forehead and began to tap an order out on the computer. Sundays were always busy, which I loved because it meant time passed quickly. I peeked at the clock on the wall. Only half an hour until I could go to him.

“How are you holding up, Aly?” Karina asked, popping her head through the swinging door.

I smiled at her. “I’m all caught up. It’s finally slowing down out there.”

“Looks like the rush is over. Why don’t you go ahead and finish up your last table and then you can cut out of here?”

“Thanks, Karina.”

“No problem. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Sure thing.”

The door swung closed behind her, and I turned my attention back to the computer and put in my last order of the day.

Two seconds later, the door swung open again. I glanced to the side to see another waitress, Clara, standing there staring at me, a question framing her set mouth.

I frowned and tucked my order pad back in my apron.

Suspicion tipped her head to the side. She was in her late twenties, bleached blond, wore too much makeup, and was one of the hardest workers at the restaurant. She once told me that being a single mom gave you a whole new work ethic.

I couldn’t help but like her.

“What?” I asked, a smile wobbling at the corner of my mouth. I just couldn’t help it. Happiness had that way about it.

I grabbed two glasses and began filling them with ice as I glanced over at her.

She shifted her weight back and crossed her arms over her chest, her expression glimmering with smug humor. “So, Aly, my friend,” she drew out, “do you care to explain to me why there’s a crazy-hot, scary guy asking for you out at the hostess podium?”

My hand tightened on the glass I was filling.

Jared.

Warmth flooded my face, spread down to wind through my heart. He was here.

Laughing, she edged forward and started filling glasses with ice and tea. She knocked me with her hip. “And I’m guessing by the look on your face you know exactly who I’m talking about.”

I bit my lip and rocked my head noncommittally. “Maybe.”

She chuckled low but lifted her chin to study my face. “Just be careful, okay? There’s something unnerving about him.”

Defensive needles prickled along the back of my neck, and heat burned the rims of my ears. “You don’t know anything about him. And I would have thought better of you than making judgments based on a few tattoos.” The words came out harsher than I intended.

She scoffed. “Come on, Aly, you know me better than that… . I wasn’t talking about his tattoos. I was talking about his eyes.” She stepped back and looked at me seriously. “And you’re right. I don’t know him. I don’t know anything about him and I know it’s not really any of my business.”

Her voice softened. “But I like you, and believe me, I’ve been there before. There are just some boys who are so broken they can never be tamed, and in the end, they just end up breaking you.” Old wounds creased the corners of her eyes. “I don’t want to see that happen to you.”

Her words hurt because they rang with truth. Doubt fluttered in my consciousness, but I shoved it off. “I know, Clara. I appreciate it. But it’s… ”

She just smiled knowingly and finished the thought I never would have been brave enough to say. “But it’s already too late.”

Too late had come a long time ago. “Yeah,” I admitted softly.