CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Kyle—

My spatula scrapes across the grill, scooping a patty and flipping it. There's a short line, but nothing I can't handle. The beef sizzles, and I stare. I've been on autopilot since I arrived, my mind on the fight yesterday.

When the third round ended, and Red Dog lifted my arm high in the air, I was exhilarated. I searched the crowd for Sutton, but I never found her.

It felt good to beat Rafe. I wanted to know what she thought of the outcome.

Rafe congratulated me, but then left before we could talk. He'd come up short, and his face was red. I wasn't there to rub it in. He just needed to learn I was no longer going to smooth the bumps in life for him.

I didn't see Sutton leave with him, but so many of the club were gathered around me with back slaps and offers of shots. I missed Rafe slipping out.

Thoughts of Sutton have been on my mind ever since. I was sure she'd at least make eye contact with me across the room, even if she didn't actually congratulate me. I would have understood, but nothing at all? Not even anger?

That's not the Sutton I know.

When she didn't show up today, I texted her, but she didn't reply. Maybe that's an indication of how angry she is. Perhaps she blames me for the fight or thinks I should have stopped it.

If that's the case, I suppose she's done working for me. I guess I can't blame her. Working for me has put her in an untenable position. It was selfish of me to ask her to work the other day.

I wonder how her hand is doing, and I can't help worrying about her.

Maybe I should text her again. Maybe I should get the guts to call her.

What the fuck are you doing? You know the answer to that. She's not your girl. She's Rafe's. She's off-limits. Completely.

I work hard the rest of the afternoon and finally catch a break right before the dinner rush. Plopping on a stool, I chug a bottle of water.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Channel Five news van pull up. Christ, I hope she's not back for another interview. Maybe she's here about some other vendor at the Farmer's Market.

Her camera crew exits the van, and Amy fixes her hair in a compact, then closes her door and rounds the van where she pulls out a long foam board, carrying it like a surfboard under her arm. I can only see the back of it, so I have no clue what kind of stunt she's up to this time. I'm expecting her to walk on past and head inside, but she makes a beeline right for me.

"What now?" I mutter, and stand to lean on the counter, dipping my head low to talk to her through the window. "Amy Armstrong, Channel Five News. Nice to see you again."

"Hi, Kyle. Could you step out here for a moment? I have something for you."

My eyes fall to the big thing she's carrying, puzzled. "Yeah. Sure."

I close the order window, head to the back door and drop to the asphalt, hoping to get this over with before people on the street start gawking.

"What can I do for you, Miss Armstrong?"

She holds up the microphone and pastes a big smile on her face, looking at the cameraman.

"I'm here today with Kyle, the owner of Kyle's food truck. I know many of you remember our story about his kindness during the monsoon out at the Tribe Music Festival last week." Then she turns to me. "Kyle, when our viewers saw your story, we were inundated with calls, asking how they could repay you for your kindness. So, my producer at Channel Five started an account. As of this morning, people from all across the Bay area have donated one-hundred and eighty-seven thousand dollars." She spins the foam board around, and I see it's a giant check.

My mouth drops open. "Is this a joke?"

"No, sir. You've got a lot of fans out there. We even heard from many of those festival attendees whom you helped with your kind generosity. They wanted to help you recoup some of the money you lost. Even some bands kicked in." She stares at me, then turns to the camera. "I think he's speechless, folks."

"I don't know what to say," I mumble, still glancing around, wondering if this is a gag. I cock my head. "Did the club put you up to this?"

She stills, her chin pulling to the side, but keeps the smile pasted on her face, her eyes shifting between me and the camera. "What club?"

"Never mind. I'm just stunned. That's all." I point at the foam check. "Is that thing for real?"

She laughs. "Well, we have some paperwork for you to fill out and the money will be deposited into your account, but this is yours to keep." She passes it to me, and we both grin at the camera for a minute.

She makes a slashing motion with her hand. "Cut. I think we got what we need, Hal."

Hal lowers the camera, and there's a smattering of applause from people gathering on the sidewalk.

"Look, I'm sorry if I didn't give you the reaction you expected. This is a little crazy, you know?" I mumble.

"No problem. You were great."

"This is insane." I stare at the zeros on the check.

"People will surprise you with how generous they can be," she says. "I've found that out in this business."

I put the foam check in the back of the truck and sign the documents she has.

"You should receive the payment in the next couple of days." Amy sticks her hand out, and I shake it.

"Thanks, Amy. And thanks for doing the story on my food truck the other day. It was all you that got this ball rolling."

"You're welcome. I like when a story has a happy ending. Good luck, Kyle."

I watch her sashay off, her cameraman in tow.

The sound of a motorcycle draws my attention, and Rafe backs his bike to the curb.

I sit on the step in the back door, my boots on the pavement. "What are you doing here?"

He climbs off and walks over. "I wanted to talk to you. You got a minute?"

"Yeah." I lift a thumb to the check leaning against the counter. "Channel Five News was just here. Look what they did."

He frowns at the board, and his eyes widen. "What the fuck? They gave you all that money? For real?"

"People saw the story they did the other day about the trouble we had at the festival. The station got a bunch of donations for me. Can you believe that?"

"What are you going to do with it all?"

I rub a hand down my jaw. "I don't know. I haven't had time to think about it."

Rafe lifts a chin to it. "Guess that's enough to start a restaurant, if that's what you still want."

"Yeah, probably." I long to talk about it with Sutton. "Where's Sutton? Why isn't she with you?"

"Your help left town."

"What?" I frown.

"She left this note." He digs a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and hands it to me.

I snatch it and quickly open it, my eyes scanning over the words, a frown deepening my brow.

Rafe,

I hope you and Kyle can work out your rift. Never forget how important family is. You two were the best of brothers, and I hate if I had any part in destroying that.

I think you and I both know this relationship isn't going anywhere serious, so I've left town.

I wish you all the best.

Sutton

My mouth drops open. "So, what are you doing here? Aren't you going after her?"

"Why would I? She's right. I don't have those feelings for her."

I surge to my feet and punch him in the mouth. He staggers backward, and I point a finger at him. "Then you shouldn't have strung her along."

Rafe spits blood on the pavement, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Fucking hell, Kyle. What was that for?"

"You know what it was for."

He stares at me. "Guess I do. She was right—she did come between us. I should have never cut in on you the day we met her. I knew you liked her. I don't know why I felt like it was a competition, especially when she and I had so little in common. I'm sorry about that, Kyle."

"Well, it's too late now, isn't it?"

"She was right about something else, too."

"What's that?" I ask.

"She was right when she said I've used you."

"She said that?"

"She did. Not sure it was intentional, but I took advantage of you. I'm not sure I realized you felt guilty for what happened to me. I figured you felt sorry for me. And deep down, that pissed me off.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry for how I acted. Sutton was right. I don't need you to fix things for me. I just need you to be my brother. If she's it for you, you should go for it."

"Go for it?"

"Yeah, go after her. You're the one she wants. Everyone sees it, even me."

"And you don't have a problem with that?"

He grins. "Not saying I won't give you hell, but I want you to be happy, Kyle. If she's the one, then you should be with her."

"For real?"

"You get I don't blame you, right? I had no idea you carried that guilt for what happened to me. Just tell me you know that, brother."

I hold out my hand, and when he takes it, I pull him in for a hug. "I never wanted a woman to come between us, Rafe."

"She won't. You two belong together. You should get her and bring her back."

Rafe's phone goes off, and he answers it. "Hey, Ma. What's up?"

He walks away for a minute, then returns.

"What is it?" I ask. "Is everything all right?"

"She gave Sutton a ride to Diridon Station after the fight, but she doesn't know where she went." Rafe searches my eyes. "She could have caught a train to Stockton or a bus to Santa Cruz."

"Santa Cruz is where we found her. Why would she go to Stockton?"

"She told me once she had a friend there."

"Where?"

He shrugs. "I don't know."

I pull my phone out and try to call her, but it gives me a message that says it's not in service. "Her phone is off."

"How're you gonna find her?" Rafe asks. "We don't even know where to look."

"She must have had family somewhere. What did she tell you?" I press.

"I, uh, I don't know. We never talked about it."

My brows lift. "What do you mean you never talked about it?" I drag a hand through my hair at Rafe's blank look.

"We just didn't have that." He gestures to me. "That easy way of laughing and talking. I mean, I guess we just didn't click. So, no, we didn't talk about shit like that."

"I don't get you, Rafe." I slam the van door, lock up the trailer, and head to the cab of my pickup.

"Where're you goin'?" my brother asks, following me.

"I'm taking the trailer home, then I'm going to find Sutton."

I leave him standing in the road next to my driver's door as I pull from the curb.