Page 8 of Buy Back My Love

“Don’t judge me. I been dreaming about this for years.”

“I ain’t judging you.” He shook his head, still smiling. “I’m trying to think of the best place to take you.”

“I want it to taste like somebody’s grandma with big arms cooked it.”

That made him laugh again. “I got you.”

We stopped at a breakfast restaurant almost an hour away from the prison. The parking lot was packed, cars filling nearly every space. I wrapped my hand around the door handle, but I couldn’t make myself push it open.

It wasn’t the restaurant or even the people. It was all of it. Five years ago, walking into a crowded place wouldn’t have earned a second thought. Now my chest tightened just thinking about it. Everybody out there looked like they knew exactly where they were going while I was still trying to remember how to exist outside a prison fence.

JB looked over from the driver’s seat. “You good?”

I kept my eyes on the windshield for another second before nodding. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

I let out a slow breath. “I have to get used to people again.”

He studied my face like he wanted to ask more, but he didn’t. He just waited until I took another breath, opened the door, and stepped out.

Inside, conversations bled into one another. Plates clattered against tabletops. A baby cried near the hostess stand while somebody in the back laughed loud enough to turn heads. Every sound seemed to hit me at once, and for a split second I thought about turning around and walking right back out.

JB fell into step beside me his hand settling lightly against the middle of my back.

“I’m right here with you,” he said like he already knew where my mind had gone.

I let out another slow breath and kept walking.

The hostess led us to a booth by the window. I slid in first automatically taking the seat that faced the front door. JB noticed but didn’t say anything. He just sat across from me like it was the most normal thing in the world.

The waitress dropped off two menus and promised she’d be back with our drinks. I opened mine, but all the words seemed to run together. There were too many choices, too many pages, too many little decisions I hadn’t had to make in five years.

JB looked up from his menu. “Still want what you told me in the truck?”

I nodded, and when the waitress came back, he ordered for both of us.

“She gone get the bacon, make sure it’s crispy. Scrambled eggs, add cheese. Cheese grits and pancakes,” he told her before glancing at me. “And for me, over-medium eggs, turkey sausage, and a sweet tea with lemon.”

“Got it.” The waitress scribbled everything onto her pad.

The question slipped out before I could stop it. “Since when you start drinking sweet tea?”

JB looked up at me. “What?”

“You hated sweet tea. Used to swear it was nothing but liquid sugar.”

A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “People change, Lee.”

I held his gaze for a second. “Yeah. I guess they do.”

JB reached across the table and rested his hand over mine. “I ain’t mean it like that.”

“I know.” I turned my hand over so our fingers fit together.

His thumb brushed across my knuckles. “You ain’t gotta hold everything in with me Lee.”

I looked down at our hands and let out a breath. “I don’t even know where to start.”