The Anti-Hero (The Goode Brothers, #1)(24)

As I reach the restaurant, I pause, lingering outside with Lucas on the call.

“Listen, Luke. I gotta go. I’ll call Mom later, okay?”

“Okay.” He’s hesitating, and I know he can sense that there’s more to the story, but I don’t elaborate.

In fact, I haven’t been in the mood to do much at all lately.

I spent the last three weeks pretending I would get some writing done. That I would bounce back. But there has been no fucking bouncing. I feel as if I’ve landed like a lead balloon. I didn’t just lose my job. I lost everything I’ve strived to achieve. I’ll never step into his shoes now, and I’m not so sure I want to.

But I hate the idea of moving on.

Hence why I’m here at Sal’s on a Saturday morning like clockwork. Old habits die hard, they say.

As I pull open the door to the diner, the first thing I see is bright pink.

Peaches.

My heart starts pounding in my chest and my cheeks burn with shame.

But it’s too late to turn and run.

Pausing two steps into the lobby, my gaze connects with hers, and we stare at each other for a few long, tense moments.

Immediately seeing her brings back a flood of memories from that night at her apartment. And with those memories, a torrent of disgrace as I remember what came over me in that moment. Perverted, vile, depraved. I desperately wanted to lock up that incident and pretend it never happened.

And yet, I think about it as often as I try not to think about it.

“Morning, Mr. Goode,” the hostess says in a cordial greeting. “Your spot at the bar is open today.” With a smile, the girl takes a menu from the stand and starts toward the bar when I stop her.

I have no good reason for what I do next.

“Table for two, actually,” I say with my eyes on Sage.

She stares at me, her lips parted and her eyes full of curiosity.

“Oh, okay,” the hostess responds, grabbing a second menu and leading me back toward a small two-person booth near the back of the diner.

When Sage stands to follow the hostess with me, I feel a sense of victory course through my veins.

What am I doing?

We follow behind silently until we reach our seats and sit across from each other.

“I was wondering if I’d see you here again,” I say.

She smiles shyly. “Well, I don’t pull any more night shifts, and I don’t normally get up this early, so you lucked out today.”

“I guess I did.” I find myself staring at the ring in her lip and the way she sometimes bites it when she’s nervous like she is right now.

Then, from out of nowhere, I’m hit with a memory of the way I acted that night. And the fact that I owe this woman an apology.

“Sage, I’m sorry…for what happened that night.” I stammer, feeling uncomfortable.

“Which part?” she asks with one brow arched.

I lean forward, keeping my voice a near-silent whisper. “I didn’t use protection. And I left…”

“Oh,” she replies, a hint of a smile on her face. Then she leans forward to whisper in return. “I’m tested regularly and on the pill, so it’s okay. But I appreciate your apology.”

With a sigh, I sit back and let out an exhale. The relief of that information settles some of the worry in my bones. The last thing I need right now is an unwanted pregnancy with a stranger.

Sage and I are sitting in mildly awkward silence when I feel a pair of eyes on me from across the restaurant. A man,

roughly my father’s age, is watching me over his newspaper, and it’s clear by the way his eyes dart back and forth that he recognizes me.

Judging by the disgruntled line of his mouth, he doesn’t approve of my company. A month ago, I might have cared.

The waitress scurries over to pour us coffee and take our orders, and the moment she’s gone, I turn my attention back to Sage. Why did I want to sit with her today? What on earth am I trying to gain here?

And why the hell haven’t I been able to stop thinking about her since the day we met?

“How’s your…?” She points to her cheek, and I lift my fingers to mine, feeling the scar there. It’s mostly healed but still pink and fresh.

“It’s good. Thanks to you.”

She shrugs in response.

“So, how are y—” I start to ask before she quickly cuts me off.

“I’ve been thinking.” The words scramble out of her mouth, and I notice immediately the flustered expression on her face as she gazes up at me.

“Okay…” I reply carefully.

“It’s going to sound crazy, but I just have to get it out, or I’ll regret it.”

“Go ahead. Say whatever you need.”

Her ring-covered fingers are grasping the coffee mug tightly, squeezing it nervously. “I’ve been thinking about this ever since that night. Which is why I’m here. I figured you might come back on Saturday mornings, and I didn’t have any other way to contact you that would be discreet enough.”

Discreet enough?

“I assume you and your father are still on the outs,” she says, leaning forward to keep it quiet between us.

Glancing around, I make sure no one is listening as I nod.

“And you’re still pretty mad at him and would like to see him suffer a little? Maybe even…ruin his reputation?”