Page 61 of Beyond the Stix

Fig stops at a small mom-and-pop place to get some groceries, and then go through a Starbucks drive-thru for some caffeinated coffee. He then hops back onto the road until we arrive at the motel. Once we settle in the room, there’s nothing to do but hunker down here until we get the go.

It’s been almost eight hours since I heard Connor’s voice. My fingers itch to reach for my phone and call him. Instead, I tell Fig, “I can’t sit here anymore. I’m going for a walk.”

“Keep close, just in case,” he calls out to me from the bathroom.

“In case of what? We’ve been waiting for more information from Lee for two hours, and it won’t be go-time until tonight.” But I get silence.

I close the door, and walk to one end of this ten-room rectangular building situated in the middle of nowhere. The closest town we passed was thirty minutes away.

At the end of the building, I spot a sign that reads, “Come to Greg’s Diner, there ain’t nothing Finer”.

I roll my eyes at the ridiculous marketing promo. But I have to give it to the owners who thought that up. I won’t forget it.

With a bit hunger gnawing at my gut, I walk the block down to Greg’s twenty-four-hour diner. Before I grab for the door handle, my phone chimes with a text. I debate for a few seconds whether I should look at the message. Distancing myself from the entrance, I look at the screen.

My heart rate ratchets up at the message I received from Connor.

Him:Hey.I’m sorry.

The ache in my chest begins to ease at those words.

Me:For what?

Him:You’re going to make me say it.

Me:I’m not making you say anything. We’re texting.

He sends me a middle finger emoji.

Him:Where are you?

This is going to be a tricky one to answer. I don’t want to lie to him, but I can’t tell him the truth, yet.

Me:Away from you, like you wanted.

I know that’s a low blow, but it’s better than lying to him.

Connor is texting something, as the ellipses on the screen are blinking. But they stop, then start again. This happens several times, before a long text appears.

Him:I didn’t mean it… I mean I did, but not anymore. I miss you. God, I hate doing this over text. How close are you from to me?

My chest swells with happiness, to know that he misses me. But if I want to mend that trust between us, I have to be open with Connor.

Me:I miss you, too. But I’m not close.

Another pause on his end, then finally…

Him:We’re here until Saturday after the concert.

Me:Can’t make it to you. I’m on a job.

My phone rings this time. “No more texting?”

“John.” It’s good to hear his voice and the gruff way he says my name.

“It won’t be long—but I promise you, once I’m done, I’ll head to you, and then we’ll talk.” It’s all I can give him right now. But nothing will happen until Connor is free and clear of his uncle.

Connor sighs. “I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?”