Page 7 of Hale Yeah, It’s You

The parking lot at Jake’s Diner is completely full—of course it is.

I circle twice like a hawk hunting for scraps before spotting an elderly woman moving at a glacial pace toward her Lincoln.

I throw the car into park and wait as she spends an eternity adjusting her enormous sunglasses, checking her rearview, and then slowly backing out like the fate of the free world depends on her precision.

The clock on my dash glares at me. I’m already ten minutes late.

My phone buzzes in my purse for the third time, and I can practically hear Alayna’s sass through the vibrations.

She’s probably wondering if I got distracted by a rogue display of paint swatches again. It's happened before. Many times.

But this is the first day of school. I promised I’d be here. I need to be here.

Purse in hand, I half-jog across the lot and hope my deodorant is still working after the stressful day I’ve had.

Relief washes over me the second I spot Alayna in one of the cracked orange booths near the back, her face lit up by the glow of her phone. She glances up, sees me, and waves. Not a trace of irritation on her face—merely a soft smile that hits me right in the heart. She’s too forgiving. Too good.

“Sorry I’m late!” I slide into the booth across from her, trying to catch my breath. The smell of burgers and deep fryer grease hits me like a warm hug. I hope I’m lucky enough to get a slice of the famous apple pie.

Alayna sets her phone down and grins. “I knew you’d be late. I’m glad you’re here. Dad ran to the—”

“Restroom,” Clay finishes as he slides into the booth beside me. He’s swapped out his work suit for his favorite red flannel and jeans, his cologne a mix of leather and citrus that’s unfairly comforting.

He gives me a half hug and his hand lingers on my shoulder. “You look awfully nice. How was your day?”

“I’m more interested in hearing about our little Bug’s day,” I say quickly, my defenses snapping up.

There will be no discussion of this morning, no uninvited trips down memory lane involving one Roman Clarke.

I simply want a greasy dinner with my people.

No emotional landmines, thank you very much.

Alayna beams like she’s been waiting all day to spill. “It was actually really awesome. The new principal is really cool, and I think it’s gonna be a fun year. They’re bringing back spirit days and pep rallies!”

“I love a good pep rally,” I say, jumping at the chance to steer the conversation toward safe, glitter-covered territory.

“There’s a new principal?” Clay asks, his cobalt eyes flicking to me.

Well, crap.

“Yeah, there is. Mr. Garrett retired. Florida, I think?” I say casually, like I’m talking about someone’s distant uncle. “Beach life and shuffleboard, you know?”

“Oh, well, that was long overdue. Did you meet her this morning? ”

“Who?” I ask, taking the world’s longest drink of water. I should have offered the information up, instead of feigning confusion, but I can’t seem to get myself together. He knows I’m being weird, I can see it on his face. Alayna jumps in, filling the awkward silence I’ve created.

“Dad, it’s not a woman—it’s another man. And he’s kinda cute.” She giggles and takes a sip of her water like she said the most scandalous thing ever.

I nearly choke.

Clay stiffens beside me, the telltale bounce of his leg starting under the table. He leans in, voice low. “Alayna, he’s a grown man. That’s inappropriate.”

She rolls her eyes so hard I swear I hear it. “Okay, boomer, calm down. I didn’t say I wanted to date him. I’m saying the man is objectively hot. Right, Keke?”

I grab the menu like it can shield me from my own shame. “What’s everyone feeling for dinner?” I ask brightly, as if we’re not actively spiraling into chaos.

Clay’s face is slowly turning pink. He shakes his head. He’s still adjusting to Teenager Alayna, and judging by the color rising in his cheeks, it’s not going as well as we all hoped.

She’s been a heartbreaker since she was seven and declared Nick Jonas her future husband. Clay’s been dreading this stage ever since.

“Well,” he says, trying to keep it together, “I look forward to seeing what all the fuss is about at family day.”

And just when I think we’ve narrowly dodged the topic, Alayna opens her mouth again.

“I think he knows you already, Dad. He definitely knows Keke.”

I choke again. Water goes down the wrong pipe and I break into a full coughing fit. Clay pats me on the back like I’m a toddler trying solid food for the first time.

“Hey—breathe,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles on my back. “Layna, what’s this principal’s name? ”

She scrunches her nose. “Uhhh… Dr. Clarke, I think?”

Of course she got it right.

“Clarke… why does that sound familiar?” Clay’s hand stills on my back. “Clarke… Clarke… why can’t I place that—”

“It’s Dr. Roman Clarke,” I interrupt, finally regaining the ability to speak—and regret it immediately.

“ Woah. Roman? As in your old high school boyfriend, Roman?”

“Boyfriend?” Alayna gasps. “You had a high school boyfriend? You hardly date .”

“Excuse you, I date ,” I say, holding back the part where I haven’t dated anyone worth introducing to my family. And the one man who was worth it broke my heart and then disappeared like a magician’s assistant.

Clay exhales long and hard. “So he’s back. Huh. How are we feeling about that?”

We. Interesting choice of pronoun.

I gnaw on the inside of my cheek. How am I feeling? Honestly, I’ve avoided asking myself that. If I give those feelings names, they might start moving back in.

Then, right on cue, the bell above the door jingles and Mary’s voice rings out, cheerful and oblivious: “Welcome to Jake’s, take a seat and I’ll be right with ya, dear!”

“Speak of the devil,” Clay mutters under his breath.

I don’t look. I don’t need to. I can sense Roman in the room like a static charge. My heart slams against my ribs.

And then, bless her, my sweet, loud, traitorous niece says, “Hi, Dr. Clarke!”

Clenching my jaw, I begin to count to ten.

One, inhale. Two, exhale. Three, consider faking my own death…

“Hi, Alayna. How are you this evening? Hello, Frankie. Clay.” His voice is like velvet.

I keep my eyes on the menu like I’m studying for a test. “Roman,” I manage, my voice almost steady .

Clay’s hand tightens on my shoulder before he speaks. “Heard you were back in town.”

“Hasn’t changed much,” Roman’s tone is easy. “And yet, some things I don’t recognize at all.”

I finally look up. Alayna is beaming like he’s the newest Jonas brother. Clay looks like someone kicked his puppy. And Roman—Roman is looking at me like I’ve kept a secret from him for the last decade and he’s ready to torture the truth out of me.

“Still the same town,” I say, “only… now you’re in it again.”

He nods, something unreadable flickering across his face. “I won’t interrupt your dinner, but Frankie, I’d like to speak with you soon.”

His eyes say everything his words don’t. He wants answers. Good—I do too.

Clay’s hand slides over mine on the table like he’s claiming territory. I don’t move.

Roman sees it. Of course he does. His jaw flexes, and for a second, there’s something sharp between us. Something old.

“I can meet you at the store tomorrow, after work,” he says, shifting his weight. “If that’s okay.”

Clay starts to say something, but I nod quickly. “Yeah. After five. Just knock.”

Roman’s lips twitch. “It’s a date.” Then, as if realizing the weight of the words, he adds, “You know what I mean.”

The problem is, I do .

And worse, so does my heart.