Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Dragon

Diana’s quiet, but it doesn’t bother me.

I’m used to quiet.

I like it.

I’m not a big talker myself, especially when people ask me about my past. Or even about my present. Come to think of it, I’m not too keen to discuss the future, either.

During this last rehab, though, I went into some in-depth therapy. It took some time. For the first few sessions, I didn’t say a damned word.

Then I finally realized that Jesse and Brianna were paying for this, so I’d better make the most of it. I owed Jess that much after what I put him through in Europe.

So I opened up, and once I did, the choice was no longer mine.

The memories had to get out because what was inside was eating me alive.

I told that therapist things I had never said aloud.

Things I hadn’t even let myself think about for so long.

Even so… I still kept one big secret to myself.

That one… I don’t think I’ll ever let out.

My thoughts are interrupted when Lexi comes back with our food.

Diana’s chicken fingers look pretty darned good, and the fries look fresh and crispy.

In opposition, my Salisbury steak looks a little gray around the gills. It smells okay—beefy and savory—but I’m thinking about what Diana’s crispy fries might feel like as I bite into them.

Not a problem, though. The special is always cheap, and I’m used to industrial-type food. It’s pretty much all we got at rehab.

“Thank you.” Diana smiles at Lexi.

“Not a problem, sweetheart. You two just let me know if you need anything else, okay?” Lexi flaunts away.

Diana inhales and then grabs a napkin from the holder and places it in her lap. Is she waiting for me to eat?

“Please, go ahead.”

She smiles, picks up her knife and fork, and cuts a piece off one of her chicken fingers.

Seriously? She’s eating chicken fingers with a knife and fork? It’s a little ridiculous, but also just a touch endearing. She’s so well-mannered.

That said, if she does the same with her fries, I may have to say something.

She doesn’t though, thank God. She grabs the bottle of ketchup from the holder and squeezes some onto her plate. Then she picks up a fry, dips it, and takes a bite.

I actually hear the crispy crunch when she bites into it.

And I’m really wanting a fry.

“You want to try a fry?” she asks.

“That’s okay.”

“You sure? Because you’re eyeing them like a dog salivating over a Thanksgiving turkey.”

I avert my gaze. “No, I’m not.”

She lets out a low chuckle. “Actually, you are.” She picks up a fry. “Ketchup?”

I nod.

She swirls it in the ketchup and then hands it to me.

I take it from her—it would be rude not to—and bite off half of the fry. The tomato tang of the ketchup and the warm crispiness of the potato… I close my eyes. Man, I do love fries. I savor it, and then I try the Salisbury steak.

The flavor is decent. Basic. I like basic. Basic doesn’t judge you. It just is.

I know what good food is. I’ve been to enough parties at Diana’s parents’ house. They put together massive galas, and they often hire Dragonlock to perform. The other band members and I get to partake in whatever huge feast they put out for the night.

Steel beef is usually a centerpiece—grass-fed meat that melts in your mouth. One of Diana’s aunts is a gourmet chef, so the spread is always spectacular.

So is the drink—usually wine paired with the food and provided by Steel Vineyards.

I sigh.

I won’t be tasting any of that wine anymore.

No more pot either.

My counselors at the rehab center were amazed that I’d been able to go so long with the gateway substances of beer, wine, and marijuana.

Those days are over.

Diana takes another bite of her chicken, bringing the breaded meat between her full pink lips.

And all I can think about is how lucky that piece of chicken finger is.

I desperately want to ask her for another fry, but I don’t. They’re her fries. Sure, I’m paying for them, but I’m staying at her place for free. I get my own fully furnished room plus access to all the amenities of her building.

So the fact that I bought her chicken fingers and fries?

It means shit.

We don’t talk a lot, but Diana seems comfortable with that. She’s a lot quieter than her sister, Brianna. Brianna likes to talk, laugh, flirt, be the life of the party.

Now that she’s married to Jesse, will she still be like that?

Probably. Tigers don’t change their stripes just because they enter into holy matrimony.

At least that’s what I figure. Not that I’d know.

I’ve cleaned my plate, and once Diana has finished her last bite of chicken fingers, Lexi arrives.

“How was everything?” she asks.

“Lovely, thank you.” Diana gives Lexi that beautiful smile.

“And you, Dragon?”

“As ever, Lexi.”

“Good enough.” She clears our plates, and less than a minute later, she returns with two servings of cherry pie.

“On the house for you and your special lady, Dragon.” She slides the plates in front of each of us. “I know cherry’s your favorite.”

My cheeks warm at her use of the words special lady , and I can tell Diana’s are too, because they turn a gorgeous shade of rose.

“Oh”—I clear my throat—“we’re not…”

Lexi widens her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume anything. I hope you enjoy the pie.” Lexi’s cheeks are pink as she leaves.

Diana breaks the silence after what feels like an eternity. “It’s very kind of you,” she says. “I’m sure it will be delicious.”

I look down at my pie, avoiding Diana’s gaze. “Sorry about that.”

“That’s no problem. But I have a question.”

“Yeah?”

She cuts off a bite of pie with her fork and brings it to her lips, holding it there in midair. “You told me you weren’t much for sweets. But Lexi said cherry pie is your favorite.”

Fuck. Did I say that? Yeah, I did, when she offered me ice cream. I don’t know why the hell I say half the things I do.

Except that’s a damned lie. I said it because she’d already fed me and I didn’t feel comfortable taking more of her food, even though I was taking my own sweet time with those last few potato chips so I wouldn’t have to leave.

Just a few more minutes to be near her. In her presence. In her light.

“I might have fibbed a little,” I finally say.

She raises her eyebrows as she takes the bite of pie into her mouth.

“I guess I just didn’t want to bother you anymore last night. But in truth, I love dessert.”

She nods as she chews. She’ll no doubt interrogate me once she swallows.

But instead, she widens her eyes. “Wow! That’s some of the most delicious pie I’ve ever eaten. And Aunt Marjorie makes amazing pies.”

“They make them all fresh here,” I say. “Using lard for the crust. The old-fashioned way.”

She takes another bite, this time chewing a bit more slowly. “Yeah, I can tell there’s something different about the crust. But it’s not just the crust. It’s the filling, too. This isn’t cherry pie filling out of a can. It’s got a certain tartness to it, and it’s delicious.”

I’m not sure what to say to that. I would assume Diana knows what she’s talking about since her family is so into food. I wouldn’t know the difference between filling out of a can and homemade filling. But the diner’s pies are to die for, and Lexi’s right. Cherry is my favorite.

My mom’s cherry pies are one of my few fond memories of my childhood. It was Griffin’s favorite too.

But I wipe the thought from my mind.

I can’t go down that avenue. Not in Diana Steel’s company. She’s a bright and sparkling light, and just being with her makes my own dark soul a little easier to deal with.

I finish my pie just as Diana is taking her last bite.

“That was absolutely delicious. Crazy that a pie at this little hole in the wall in Denver is better than my aunt’s.” Then she clamps her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. I didn’t mean to imply?—”

“Don’t apologize.” I gesture around the small diner. “This is a hole in the wall. It’s a dive. But I like it.”

She smiles at me then, and it’s a warm and genuine smile. “You know what, Dragon? I like it too.”