Page 40 of Fighting For You

Knox wasn't looking at his. He was looking at the booth in the corner again.

"My brother used to bring me here after school," he said. "Fridays. Every week. We'd sit back there and order a banana split that was too big for two people, and we'd still try to finish the whole thing." He turned his water glass on the table. "My mom used to get on him for ruining my appetite before dinner. He never argued with her about it. We'd be right back in that same booth the next Friday."

"What's his name?"

"Gage." He said it quietly. "He was five years older. He died when I was twelve."

The diner hummed around us. I let a few seconds pass before I said anything.

"I'm sorry, Knox."

He nodded. Then he picked up his menu like he'd said what he came here to say and the next thing on the list was lunch.

"I'd like to try that banana split," I said.

Something eased in his face. He set the menu down and leaned back. "Alright. We'll get one." He flipped the menu over and scanned the other side. "What about the tenders? Anything look good?"

I already knew what their tenders tasted like. They were fine, but they had nothing to do with Chunky's. This wasn't going to be the place. Still, I looked through the options.

"They don't have garlic parmesan and buffalo ranch here." I ran my finger down the list. "But their tenders look decent. Why don't we try the best seller with some blue cheese dip and this spicy one?"

Knox looked at the menu. "Okay," he said, but his face said something else entirely.

I laughed. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not very good at handling spice."

"You fight fires for a living and a spicy chicken tender is where you draw the line?"

The look he gave me made me laugh out loud.

Across the room, Liz slid off her stool. Jen followed. They headed for the door, and Liz looked over her shoulder at me on the way out. She didn't wave. She just looked, and then she was gone.

That was going back to the floor.

I shrugged it off. The waitress came back, and I ordered for us. The best seller with blue cheese dip, the spicy tenders, a burger for Knox because I wasn't going to let the man starve, and the banana split for after.

While we waited, I studied him across the table.

I'd been trying to figure Knox Sullivan out since the hospital. He'd shown up every day, sat with me, asked questions about how I was feeling, and never once offered anything about himself in return. When I got out, he kept texting. Always a check-in, always about me. I still didn't know his middle name or where he grew up or what he did on his days off. The car shopping had shown me something else — a man who crawled under a stranger's Corolla on hot asphalt because he didn't want me making a bad decision, and then shrugged when I thanked him like he'd done nothing worth mentioning. He'd fixed my window at Barb's and never made it about himself. And now he'd just given me his brother's name across a diner table, and I could tell from how he'd looked at that booth that it cost him more than he was letting on.

Three signs fit. Leo, because he was brave and protective and walked into fire for a living. Capricorn, because he was disciplined and methodical and built things without needing anyone to notice. Scorpio, because he watched everything, gave nothing away, and chose exactly what to share and when to share it. All three could be him. I couldn't tell which one was right.

I rested my chin on my hand. "When's your birthday?"

Knox's glass stopped halfway to his mouth.

"Wait." I held up a hand. "Don't tell me. I want to guess."

He set his glass down. "Okay? Give it a shot."

"I've got three guesses. If I narrow it down to the exact date, you eat the whole spicy tender."

Knox looked at me. "And if you're wrong?"

"You pick."

He thought about it for exactly two seconds. "Deal."