Page 4 of Steal and Starlight

“Thank you,” I said, picking up my fork. The food smelled incredible, and my stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten anything since the sandwich at lunch with Westley. After tagging all the cattle this afternoon, that felt like a lifetime ago.

Aunt Dolly leaned against the counter across from me, her arms crossed over her chest. She had that look on her face again, the one that said she was working up to something. I’d seen it a hundred times before, usually right before she asked me something I didn’t want to answer.

“You know,” she said slowly, “your daddy used to come in here all the time when you was a baby. Sit right on that same stool you’re sittin’ on.”

I looked up from my plate. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, her eyes distant for a moment. “He was a good man, your daddy. Annoyin’ sometimes, but good. He knew who he was, even when it wasn’t easy.”

My fork stilled against my plate. There was something in the way she said it, something that made me think this wasn’t just a random memory. “Aunt Dolly⁠—”

“I’m just sayin’,” she interrupted gently, “that sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same thing. And sometimes the people who love you most will understand that, even if it takes ‘em a little while to get there.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I set my fork down carefully, my appetite suddenly gone. She was looking at me with those sharp eyes again, and I had the distinct feeling that she knew exactly what I was planning. That she’d somehow figured out my secret without me ever telling her.

Well, one of my secrets.

“Eat,” she said, her voice softening. “Before it gets cold.”

Of course she knew. Even the ranch hands knew. That’s why they teased me relentlessly back on the ranch. Every day was a lesson in torture, and James Gilderoy, West’s daddy, didn’t give a fuck how they treated me. Dale only said something about it once and never again. I could only imagine what old Mr. Gilderoy said to him.

I picked my fork back up and forced myself to take another bite, even though the food had turned to sawdust in my mouth. Aunt Dolly moved away to tend to other customers, but I could feel her watching me from across the diner. She had that maternal concern written all over her face, the same expression she’d worn the day she picked me up from the police station after my parents’ funeral. I’d been sixteen and angry and completely lost, and she’d brought me to this diner and fed me pie until I stopped crying.

Now here she was, doing it again in her own way.

I chewed slowly, watching her move back to tend to the other customers. She was good at that, at knowing when to push and when to let things breathe. It was probably why she’d survived this long running a diner in a town like Sagebrush, where gossip moved faster than the wind and secrets had a way of becoming public spectacle. Well, that and she was usually the purveyor of said gossip. Not to mention, she loved to play matchmaker. More people had gotten married in Sagebrush because of Dolly than for any other reason.

My phone buzzed again in my pocket. This time I pulled it out.

West: You make it ok?

West: Aunt Dolly didn’t interrogate you too bad I hope lol

I couldn’t help but smile at that. He knew how she was. He’d been the target of her interrogations nearly as much as I had. Being my best friend, he was in range of her just about as often as I was.

Me: All good. She’s just being her usual self.

I set the phone down on the counter and went back to my food, forcing myself to eat even though every bite felt heavy going down. The diner continued its Friday night symphony around me, but I was too lost in my own thoughts to hear much of it.

“You want some pie?” Aunt Dolly appeared beside me again, her sharp eyes tracking every movement I made. “I made a fresh apple pie this mornin’.”

“Maybe after,” I said. “Let me finish this first.”

She nodded, but she didn’t leave. She just stood there, leaning against the counter with that patient expression on her face. I could feel the weight of her gaze, the unspoken words hanging between us.

“Rhett,” she said finally, her voice low enough that only I could hear it over the diner noise. “Whatever you’re decidin’ right now, whatever’s weighin’ on your mind... I want you to know that I’m proud of you. No matter what.”

My throat went tight. I set my fork down again, not trusting myself to hold it steady. “Aunt Dolly⁠—”

“I mean it,” she said firmly. “Your daddy would be too. He always wanted you to be happy, to be yourself. He used to tell me that the most important thing in life was findin’ someone who loved you for who you really are, not who you pretended to be.”

I couldn’t look at her. If I looked at her, I was going to lose it right here in the middle of the diner, in front of half the town. So I kept my eyes on my plate, on the mashed potatoes and gravy, on anything but her face.

“Thank you,” I managed, my voice cracking.

“You’re welcome, sugar,” she said, and I heard the smile in her voice even without looking. “Now eat. And after you finish that steak, you’re havin’ a slice of pie. No arguments about that.”

She walked away before I could argue, and I was grateful for it. I sat there in Aunt Dolly’s Diner on a Friday night, surrounded by the sounds and smells of home, and tried very hard not to think about how much I was going to miss this place. How much I was going to miss her. And how much I was going to miss Westley.