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CHAPTER ONE
Aiden
We make dozens of seemingly mundane choices every day. What color socks to wear, which line to get in at the grocery store, and where to eat breakfast. We do it with little or no thought, never expecting such inconsequential choices to change our lives.
On Tuesday, when Logan asked me where I wanted to meet, the Riverdell Diner seemed as good of a choice as any. The restaurant had been open for six months, but this was our first visit. We took a booth towards the rear. Logan's back was to the door, but I had an excellent view of the place.
According to the paper placemats on the table in front of us, Al Stubnosky had found the old dining car abandoned in Youngstown, Ohio. After having it restored to its original condition, he moved to its present location in downtown Riverdell overlooking the Allegheny River.
Most of the patrons were groups of old men, eating breakfast and swapping stories about the fish they caught last week or the girl they once knew. I was still admiring the restoration work when a waitress came to take our order. A name tag, pinned to her pink uniform, which strained at the seams to contain her large chest, identified her as Denise.
“Oh, my god. Logan White.” She leaned down and gave my companion a hug. “How long has it been?”
“Almost ten years, I guess. We graduated Class of 2014. So yeah, ten years. This is my friend, Aiden Billic.” I disliked when he called me his friend. We are much more than that. Denise looked at me and smiled. Then returned her attention to Logan and his intense blue eyes and high cheekbones. He was still as annoyingly handsome as he had been in high school. I studied the menu while they caught up on old times, hoping to find at least one vegetarian option.
Much to Denise’s disappointment, Logan seemed oblivious to her attempts at flirting. When she laughed too loudly at something he said, the other waitress looked our way and rolled her eyes.
There was something intriguing about her. I watched as she refilled the coffee cups of the guys next to us. Her movements were precise, as if not wanting to expend one more ounce of energy than absolutely necessary. I guessed she was in her early twenties. Her uniform fit better than Denise’s and her long dark hair was pulled back in a no nonsense ponytail.
A bell chimed, signaling the opening of the front door. Her head snapped in that direction, body tensing, when a sketchy man in a faded black t-shirt entered the diner. I heard her mutter under her breath. “Not again.”
Denise was finally ready to take our order. I settled for the fruit platter and black coffee. Logan ordered the Riverdell Special—three pancakes, two eggs, hash browns, and double bacon. I do not know how he eats so poorly and does not have an ounce of fat on his toned body.
“What’s the deal with her?” I asked when Denise left. “High school sweetheart?”
“Not exactly.” He ran a hand through his tousled brown hair. “I played football. She was a cheerleader, so we went out a few times. Nothing serious.”
From the way she reacted to seeing Logan, I got the feeling it had been serious for Denise. Logan was a different person from the self-centered bully I had met when I first lived in Riverdell. We both had changed over the years. So I let it slide when he changed the subject and asked if anything had happened on my over night shift with the Riverdell Fire Department.
“Actually, it was a pretty calm. An accident at Maple and Thorn, no fire or injuries. The medic unit got a call for an unresponsive elderly man on DeVine. He was DOA when we arrived. Oh, and another false alarm at Miller Industries. Other than that, I spent most of the 24 hours reading.”
“Damn it, I’ve warned Bud about that alarm system. It’s been obsolete for ten years. This is the third false alarm in two months.” Logan takes his job as Fire Inspector seriously. “I’ll go out to Miller today and let him know if it happens again, they will get a citation.”
“Good idea,” I said, looking over his shoulder to the end of the counter, where the guy in the faded shirt was seated. He was looking at the dark-haired waitress. The scowl on his face and the nervous way he kept tapping a box of Marlboros on the Formica counter had my senses on high alert. He appeared to be looking for a fight, and I intended to give him a wide berth.
The waitress attempted to do the same as she made her way behind the counter. But the man reached out and grabbed her by the wrist. She said something I could not hear, but the entire restaurant heard when he jerked her close, knocking the coffeepot from her hand. It hit the linoleum and shattered. Everyone looked in their direction to see what the commotion was about.
I froze, but Logan, who was already out of his seat. The veins of his neck pulsing as he made his way towards the pair, ready to intervene without evaluating the situation first. He got right in the man’s face. “I said let her go.”
“Hey buddy, this is none of your business.” He released his hold on the waitress. Even though Logan was at least six inches taller and solid muscle, the man stood up. “Why don’t you go eat your breakfast before you get hurt?” This was the wrong thing to say. Before he knew what was happening, his wrist was pinned behind his back. Someone opened the door and Logan roughly escorted the man out of the restaurant.
When he came back in, I saw he was limping. It was not anything the average person would have noticed, especially if they had not seen the way he gracefully moved before the accident. But I was worried he may have re-injured his knee and went to check on him.
By the time I got there, a kid in a badly stained apron and a horrible case of acne was talking to Logan but looking at the waitress. I had seen the fry cook hiding in the kitchen right until Logan escorted the thug from the building.
“Boy, that Reggie’s lucky you got to him before I did. When I saw him grab Ember, I was about to come out and kick his ass.” The cook scowled at Logan. “But you got there first. I’ve told her before that guy’s no good.”
A tall bald man wearing a blue button-down with the name Al and the restaurant’s logo embroidered above the pocket stepped forward. “Danny, get back in the kitchen. Show’s over folks. Go back and enjoy your breakfast. I apologize for the interruption and am taking 20 percent off of your bills for the inconvenience.”
He lowered his voice and turned to Logan. “Son, I appreciate your help. Your meals are on the house.” He looked at the shattered coffee pot. “Ember, clean up this mess and then come to my office.”
When he was gone, Ember hissed at Logan. “What the hell did you do that for? I was handling it just fine myself. You only made things worse.” Then she turned with a heavy sigh and walked to the back of the restaurant. Logan grumbled something about ingratitude and we returned to our booth. When Denise brought our plates, she slipped Logan her number.
“You’re were limping.” I told him. “You need to get that checked out.”
“It’s nothing. I just tweaked it a bit. I’ll be fine.” A master at changing the subject when he does not want to discuss something, he asked, “What do you think about Denise? I am pretty sure she would be up for a threesome if you wanted.”
“Not this again,” I groaned. Ever since he moved in with me, even after we had become lovers, he has been trying to convince me to have a threesome. I told him the woman was too loud for my tastes. Everything about the woman was loud. Her heavy make-up, her bleached hair and most of all the way she laughed at everything Logan said. She was the polar opposite of Ember.
