Everyone in the small town of Hull knows two things. One: Jill Williams doesn't date, and two: Carson Blue is addicted to drugs.
When Carson decides to clean up his act and apply at Jill's family restaurant, she's less than enthused. Between school...
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BY THE TIME I GET BACK to the diner, a torrential downpour slams against the roads and floods the sidewalks. I run from my car through the storm and cover my hair with my jacket, relieved to finally get inside.
Since I turned on the neon CLOSED sign before going to the park, it's completely dead in here, the smell of coffee and ketchup hanging in the air. The Kit-Kat clock ticks. Over the hum of the refrigerators and radiator, bluesy guitar riffs play from the old antenna radio. Our cook, Paul, must've already packed up and left, because there are no pans banging from the kitchen. But the sound of Mom's TV grumbles through the ceiling. Dee's Diner was the perfect package for us, an established restaurant with an apartment built upstairs. Mom bought it with the money my grandma left when she died five years ago, right after my dad took off.
A sigh escapes my lungs. Worrying about Nolan overwhelmed me earlier, so table eight is still piled with trash: candy wrappers filled with chewed gum—compliments of the kids that family had with them—and napkins blotted with lipstick and mustard stains that have been, for whatever unholy reason, stuffed into the water cups. I go to the bar and wipe a sticky glob of maple syrup off the counter with a rag, before I grab a bus-bin and finish cleaning up.
It takes twenty minutes to get the last load of dishes on the drying rack, but I'm finally done. Just as I'm about to head upstairs, a reminder dings in my head. I pull out Carson's resume, now crinkled from being stuffed in my pocket, and smooth it onto the counter.
It's formatted nicely. Much better than some of the others we've gotten. Ethan Leeds handed one in last week with red Comic Sans lettering which is just... the epitome of unprofessional. Carson clearly spent time on this.
In a way, he tried to get his brothers to back off earlier. And he carried himself decent when he asked me to take his resume, I can't deny that. But still—there are too many reasons to not want someone like him around. Maybe it's too late to protect Nolan from bad shit. Maybe it's dumb to think I can stop him from seeing how ugly the world can be...
But I have to try, right?
I take one last glance at the resume before I drop it in the trash, thinking, sorry, Blue, maybe some other time.
***
When I get upstairs, Mom is lying on the couch under Grandma's hand-knitted afghan, the one with the white wool interwoven with pink. Her eyes, glazy and tired, are focused on the rerun of Dawson's Creek on the TV. A lion's roar of thunder grumbles outside, and steam rises from her mug of hibiscus tea. I turn on the lamp and fill the room with a dim light.
"Oh hey, Jillie." She sits up and rubs her eye, and the blanket falls down to reveal her pale green pajamas. "I didn't hear you come in."
I plop down on the wicker rocking chair. "How you feeling, Mom?"
"Exhausted, honestly. Today was rough. How was your shift?"
"Fine." I nibble on my lip and try not to think about the resume that's now tucked in the garbage next to a half-eaten burger. "Could've used another person, but we made it." I don't tell her I closed half an hour early to check on Nolan, because she'd get pissed at me for not asking her for help. And after working the whole day shift, my mom needs the rest.
