Page 26 of End Game

Her eyes are hazy, her mouth twisted by a lazy grin.

“I’m drunk,” she says, and then she laughs.

“Yeah, you are.”

“I’m sorry you had to leave the party early to take care of me.”

“I’d do anything for you.” I hope she can’t hear the desperation in my voice.

Diana frowns, studying her hands, clasped together on the table in front of her. “I’m so glad we’re friends, Bare. I don’t know that I’d be able to do this without you.”

“Do what?”

“This.” She waves her hand. “School. Newton. My dad.”

The elephant in the room. Her dad isn’t going to get better; it’s only downhill from here.

“Yeah. How are you doing with all of that?”

Her face crumples. “Not well.”

Shit.

I slide out of the booth and onto her side. There’s barely enough room for the two of us. She clings to me, her hand fisted in my shirt, her head on my chest.

“I’m really not doing well,” she says to my shirt. “This fucking sucks.”

“I know, honey, I know.” I hold her close and stroke a hand over her hair. “I’m so sorry you have to go through all of this. I’m so sorry your dad is—”

She hiccups.

A waitress approaches, popping her gum. “What can I get ya?”

“Oh, um…” She hasn’t so much as looked at a menu.

Luckily, I’ve been here a time or two, and I know what she likes.

“Two bacon cheeseburgers, please, with all the fixings, and two orders of cheese fries,” I say. “And a chocolate milkshake.”

“You got it.” She pops her gum. “Anything else?”

“That’ll be great, thank you.”

Diana buries her face in my chest. “I don’t want to face the real world. Wake me up when the food gets here.”

Laughing, I tighten my arms around her and stroke over her hair again. “Sure thing.”

We sit in quiet silence for a few minutes. The diner is busy with the sounds of people eating and talking, laughing. We’re in a little cocoon of peace and calm in the midst of the storm.

Finally, Diana clears her throat and pulls away. “I think I’m okay now.”

“You sure?”

She nods, rubbing at her eyes. “I will be.”

As much as I don’t want to, I know I need to pull away. I take my seat on the opposite side of the booth, folding my hands on the table.

The waitress drops off the milkshake and the extra canister with two straws. I push the glass towards her and stick my straw in the leftovers.