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CHAPTER ONE

Almost twelve years later

PROVINCETOWN, CAPE COD

Someone holds the restaurant door open for too long, and I take the chance to breathe in the salty ocean air I love so much.

The sun is just beginning to sink into the green-blue waters, now darker at this hour, and from where I’m standing, I can see tourists walking or riding colorful bikes down the town’s main street.

I love summer and how people just seem happier this time of year. Even though Cape Cod’s temperatures are way milder than the rest of the country, it’s still the season for shorts and ponytails. I’m pretty sure I lived in a nudist colony in a past life—too much fabric on my body drives me crazy.

“I’m having dinner here tonight,” I announce as I step into the kitchen, catching the scent of fried shrimp that Badger—chef and owner of the place—is cooking.

The other servers are terrified of him. At first glance, he does look intimidating—nearly six-foot-five, over two hundred pounds, and covered in tattoos—but to me, he’s just a big teddy bear.

Sure, he’s not the most patient person—he’ll literally growl at you if you touch anything in his kitchen without permission—but I’ve heard all chefs are a little . . . temperamental.

Things get chaotic for us servers, especially this time of year, and Badger’s patience quickly runs short. So when too many of us storm into his “sanctuary” at once, he gives us a look that sends some of the newbies running. As for me? What can I say—I like to live dangerously.

Anyway, I don’t judge people by appearances.

I try to look deeper. Sometimes an angry face hides a huge heart—like Badger’s.

And sometimes a smile is just a mask for disdain, like the kind some of the rich customers wear when they treat us like we’re invisible, just because we wear aprons and serve their food.

Badger, despite his moody behavior, genuinely cares about the people around him. I remember when my mom got arrested—he stayed with me for hours, just listening to me vent while I cried.

I force a fake smile at the memory because I can’t afford to think about where she is now—not during a shift. Actually, I shouldn’t think about it at all. I need to focus on getting her out of there.

“How do you want your shrimp?” he asks, and even though he doesn’t look back, I can tell he’s in a good mood. If there’s one thing that wins over the big guy’s heart, it’s asking for his food.

“Surprise me. I love everything you make.”

He finally turns to look at me. “You know you’re my favorite waitress of all time, right?”

“I’m the only waitress here. The rest of the staff is just a bunch of dudes,” I laugh.

“Even if there were others, you’d still be my favorite.” He gives me a half-smile, then changes the subject. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“On Sunday, I’m visiting Mom.”

He drops the wooden spoon he was using to stir a sauce I know is for the mussels. “Any news from the lawyers?”

I keep my expression neutral—it always makes me want to cry. “They’re being their usual realistic-optimistic selves.”

“I hate those suits.”

“I can’t say I’m crazy about them either, but right now, I need them to do their job and get her out.”

“Tell Marla I’m coming to visit her next weekend.”

I smile.

He’s been going whenever he can sneak away from the restaurant. I can’t help but wonder—could something be happening between them?

“She’ll love that.”

“Your mom is the best person I know—right after you.”

My throat tightens. “Yeah. I know.”

“Sorry for bringing it up, Alexis. It’s just . . . It pisses me off that there are so many sons of bit—uh, bad people walking free out there while someone like her is behind bars. But I’m sure she’ll be out soon and living her best life with us again.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Tonight’s gonna be wild!” One of the servers walks in, balancing two trays stacked with an absurd number of glasses. “The line outside keeps getting longer.”

Badger tries to hide a smile, but I catch it before he can mask it. I know he’s proud—his restaurant was just featured in a major magazine as the best in Cape Cod.

“Any chance we still have lobster for the next hour?” the guy asks.

“No,” Badger says, clearly disappointed. “What I’ve got left is only enough for two more servings.”

Once the guy walks off, I ask, “Still having trouble locking in a new supplier?”

Badger shakes his head—yeah, no luck.

He always bought seafood directly from my mom. Since she was arrested, he’s already switched suppliers three times.

“You really going to sell her fishing boat?”

“I have to. Partly to help cover the legal fees, partly because I couldn’t catch a sardine to save my life. Right now, it’s just sitting there.”

“I could loan you some money so you can keep the boat.”

“Thanks, Badger, but my mom’s proud—she’d never want to interfere with your plans to expand the restaurant. She’s the one who suggested selling it.”

“Because she plans to sue the jerks who falsely accused her?”

“I think so.”

“If there’s any justice in this world, she’s gonna take them for everything they’ve got.”

I give a weak smile. I’m an optimist, but I don’t have much faith in earthly justice. Only the divine kind. And I know that one tends to take its time.

I hear a commotion in the dining area, and when I glance back, two of the four servers working with me seem to be in a near-argument with a customer.

Sometimes, serving spoiled rich people from neighboring towns really sucks—but the tips are good.

“I better go before someone starts throwing shrimp at that guy,” I say, heading for the table.

Six hours later, I’m drying the last glass. Technically, cleaning up isn’t my job, but I always stay a little longer because Badger has a hernia in his neck and by the end of the day, he’s in serious pain.

The cleaning isn’t really his responsibility either, but he’s proud that his restaurant’s never scored lower than a ninety-nine on a health inspection, and he wants to keep it that way.

“Wait, I’ll give you a ride,” he says as I’m getting ready to leave.

“No need. Your place is in the opposite direction.”

“I don’t do things because I have to—I do them because I want to. I’m not letting you bike across town on that rusty old thing at this hour.”

I wish I had the willpower to insist, because I know he's also very tired, but the truth is, my whole body aches.

“I’ll just grab my bag, then,” I say as he heads toward the men’s locker room to shower.

Everyone else is already gone, and it’s not unusual for it to be just the two of us. If it were any other guy, I wouldn’t take the risk—but Badger is like a father to me.

A few minutes later, I step onto the property where I live. Instead of running to the shower, which my entire body is begging for, I drop my bag on the couch and head outside to pray under the sky.

These days, I no longer ask not to be sent back. Nearly two years after my mom found me, I realized that would never happen.

Now, I ask Him to let us prove the truth. And bring her home.