in him wanted to remind Wyatt that Tyler was his son, and he’d promise whatever he wanted. The adult in him knew that was childish. Besides, this was Wyatt’s home, Wyatt’s ranch, and they were living here at his discretion.
“But?”
Wyatt knew DJ. His brother patiently waited—they both knew there was a but.
“I have an idea.”
“Uh-oh.” Wyatt grabbed a chair, scraping it away from the table to sit across from DJ. “Spit it out.”
“He wants the bike, right?”
Wyatt nodded.
“I need him to tell me about Tammie.” He met Wyatt’s gaze.
“You think that’s a good idea? Bribing him?”
DJ shrugged. He couldn’t think of anything else at this point. Tyler refused to talk about his life with his mother. He wouldn’t share even the smallest details. The first bit of information they’d had was, of course, the house where Wyatt had picked up the boy—and they’d figured out that was a lie, too. Tammie and Tyler hadn’t lived there. No one had for years. Tammie had found an abandoned house and borrowed it.
“You don’t think that dredging all that up will hurt him?” Wyatt said, his voice thick with concern.
They’d had this discussion a dozen times already. Maybe Tyler had been so badly abused that the horrors returning would be too difficult. But DJ didn’t think that was the case. Tyler didn’t behave like an abused kid. Concerned, scared at times, but not abused.
“That’s the thing.” DJ decided to share his thoughts with Wyatt. “I think he’s not talking because he’s protecting his mom.” DJ would bet his Harley on it.
“From us?”
“No.” DJ took a deep swallow of the juice, buying time to organize his words. “Something or someone else.”
“That boyfriend?”
DJ shrugged, not really wanting to go there in his mind or this conversation. But he knew what Wyatt was talking about. Before DJ had returned home, Wyatt had taken Tyler to the emergency room when he’d cut his hand. That was the only time Tyler had let anything slip. Some guy named Dom had hurt Tyler. Hurt him bad enough to warrant an earlier ER visit that scared Tyler for life. But other than that, he hadn’t said anything about his mom.
And now they finally had a key to get Tyler to talk.
Wyatt’s simple nod was all the go-ahead DJ was going to get. He’d take what he could.
* * *
THIS TIME OF NIGHT was the worst time to work. Tammie liked it better when the dinner crowd was in full swing, or when the late-night-after-the-movies-and-the-bars-were-closed crowds came in. She didn’t have time to think...or feel.
This dead, middle-of-the-night calm between the two rushes was almost painful. She’d already rolled all the silverware, filled the saltshakers and stacked the dishes in the front stations.
“Take a load off.” Cora pointed at the diner’s ugly green counter. Her feet throbbing, Tammie didn’t question the older woman’s instruction. Who was she to argue with seniority?
Cora poured coffee into two plain earthenware mugs, leaving enough room for cream. Cora had been the one to teach Tammie the perfect way to pour a cup of coffee. “Just enough cream to watch it bloom to the top. Not a drop more.” It was how Tammie served it all the time now. And her increased tips from customers proved the value of the woman’s advice.
Now, though, Tammie was serving herself. She tipped the silver-topped sugar dispenser, counting to five before she stopped the white stream. She needed the energy to get through the rest of the night.
She tossed her order pad and pencil on the counter beside her coffee, waiting for Cora to join her. The steam of the second cup swirled upward, and Tammie watched it with tired, nearly unfocused eyes. The shape morphed and swayed in the air conditioner’s breath.
“What’s that?” Cora leaned over the counter, peering down at Tammie’s order pad. “It’s pretty.”
Tammie stared in horror. Her fingers had instinctively picked up the pencil and sketched the steam, creating flowing waves and pockets where her creativity planned to settle precious stones. It was a good design. She could take the gold and fold it just here—
No! Tammie ripped the page free and tore it into tiny pieces. If she had a match she’d have burned it. Instead, she scattered the pieces into the bus tray behind the counter, watching, painfully, as they sank into the dumped ice waters and coffee. The pencil lead disappeared into the damp.
“What’d you do that for?” Cora wasn’t accusing, just curious, as she climbed up on the old vinyl stool and settled.
Tammie shrugged, knowing that would be answer enough, at least for Cora. She couldn’t let Cora see her work, and she couldn’t let anyone ever know what she could do. Not until she figured out a solution—until she figured out a way to escape for good.
“It was just silliness.” She dismissed the design with a wave of her hand, but cringed when she saw the spark of curiosity linger in Cora’s faded blue eyes. Despite having destroyed the drawing, Tammie still saw it in her mind, felt her fingers itch to pick up the pencil and finish it, felt the longing to hold her tools and work with the materials she’d so loved.
They finished their coffee in silence, both women fighting exhaustion as their shift stretched out.
“I’m gonna get a quick breath of air,” she told Cora. “Be right back.” Tammie needed, just for a minute, to be alone. And while the alley out back was the last place in the world she wanted to be, with its hefty thick stink and dirt, it was dark and empty. At least for now.
The back door was heavy metal but it was never closed. A supposed fire door, it gave little protection. The screen door was all that separated the kitchen from the alley. She let it slam closed behind her, needing something to separate her from this life she’d been forced into.
She looked up at the sliver of sky she could barely see between this building and the filthy one across the alley. She could almost make out the sparkle of a single star beyond the city lights and clouds. Closing her eyes to seal in the damp that threatened to fall over the edge of her lashes, she let her mind have its silence.
She’d been little when her mother had taught her to make a wish on her first star. “Star light, star bright,” she whispered. The rest of the words rushed through her head, but not past her lips. Not here. Tyler’s little face flashed into her mind, but she refused to let it go any further. She’d taught him the silly rhyme. Did he remember it? Or would he soon forget it, and her?
She forced her thoughts elsewhere. He was not a part of this world, of the level she’d sunk to. No, he was safe and in a good place. She’d made sure of that.
Never here.
She needed to get back inside. Blinking rapidly, this time not because of tears, but the bright fluorescent lights of the kitchen, she hurried inside. There were voices in the dining room. A couple, half-drunk, had settled in the front booth while two young
