Rally (Treasure State Wildcats Book 3)

My sister jabbed her elbow into mine before she snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Um, hello. Are you going to help me with this or what?”

I jerked, tearing my gaze away from the diner’s front door.

Gloria and I were squished together in a booth—Rush’s booth. When had this become his booth?

“Sorry,” I told her. “I’m distracted tonight.”

“You think?” Gloria sneered with an eye roll.

The teenage sass was thicker than Dusty’s country gravy. She’d been in a bad mood all evening and the eye rolls were wearing thin.

“Can you dial back the snark?”

“Can you pretend like you actually want to be here?”

“Gloria,” I warned.

“Faye,” she mimicked, and just to irk me, she rolled her caramel eyes again. Had I been this bratty at fifteen?

“You know what? I think you can figure out algebra on your own tonight.” I slid to the edge of the booth, about to stand, when she wrapped her hand around my arm, stopping my escape.

“Wait. Don’t. I really need your help.”

“Then be nice.”

She let me go and sighed. “It just seems like you’re not paying attention.”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I said, shifting back into the booth. “Give me some grace.”

“ ’Kay.” She gave me a sad smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right.” I leaned closer, our shoulders touching, as we both focused on the worksheet in front of us. “Next question. In this expression, what represents the coefficient?”

She groaned as she stared at the four multiple choice options. “I don’t know. I suck at math.”

“You’re good at math.” I nodded toward her paper. “Come on.”

With a huff, she picked up her Ticonderoga pencil, and as she worked out the problem, my gaze once again drifted toward the door.

It had been a week since I’d seen Rush. A week since my doctor’s appointment. A week since we’d agreed to meet for pancakes, and I’d stood him up instead.

Dusty had told me that he’d waited here for two hours that night before finally leaving. He hadn’t been back to the diner since.

Eventually, we’d have to talk again. Eventually, I’d have to work up the courage to call him. Eventually, I’d have to figure out exactly what to say.

But what did I say? I’d overheard that argument with his ex-girlfriend last week. I’d heard her accuse him of cheating, that she loved him and also hated him.

I wasn’t sure who I felt worse for, Rush or Halsey, but I doubted either would want my pity.

“It’s B,” Gloria said, circling the answer on her worksheet.

“Good job.” I patted her arm as she moved on to the next question.

The swinging door to the kitchen opened and Dusty came out with a basket of chicken strips and fries.

“Oh, thank God. I’m starving.” Gloria tossed her pencil aside and shuffled her homework out of the way as Dusty set her dinner on the table.

“I’ll get you some ranch,” I said, sliding out of the booth.

“I can get it,” Dusty offered but I waved her off and stood.

“I’m supposed to be working.”

“Because we’re so busy?” She glanced around the empty diner and laughed.

A laugh? Really? It used to bother her that business got slower and slower each year. How could it not? Was she actually laughing about it now? Was that how far we’d come?

So far tonight, I’d waited on five tables. Sure, we had our regulars, the people who’d come in once or twice a week. But even those patrons had dwindled lately. Most were older. Dusty had probably read a few of their names in her daily obituary hunt.

It was after seven o’clock. Gloria would likely be the only person here the last hour we were open.

“I can clock out,” I said. “There’s no point in you paying me.”

“No.”

I’d learned a long time ago not to argue with that tone.

“I’m going to pop out back for a quick smoke,” she said before disappearing to the kitchen, but not before a long look around the empty room.

The back door slammed closed, and I turned in a slow circle. Guilt weighed heavy on my shoulders as my gaze drifted from table to table.

Should I quit? Find a job at a restaurant where I’d make better tips? Give Dusty a chance to save some money by not paying me each week? I worked for minimum wage, but still, that was a cost she could cut.

She’d never fire me, not unless things were dire. Even then, she’d probably short her own bank account before letting me go.

If I left her alone, she’d be forced to work every shift without a break. Not that she ever took a break. Even when she and Mike were together and he’d come cook, she was here too. Even when I was capable of closing down and locking up, she’d stay so we could walk out the back door together. There were no such thing as vacations for Dusty.

Was that by choice? Or necessity?

Maybe I should quit. Work somewhere else during the day, then visit Dusty at night. I had no idea how that would work with a full class schedule.

Or a baby.

My stomach did a somersault. It seemed to be in a constant state of acrobatics these days. Before noon, it was churning with morning sickness. After lunch, it was spinning with anxiety.

I trudged to the waitress station and filled a glass with ice and Sprite. Then I snagged a bottle of ranch dressing from the fridge and returned to the booth. I slumped beside my sister, who was too busy inhaling her food to notice as I wiped my clammy palms on my jeans.

“Want some?” She pushed the basket closer, her cheeks bulging as she chewed.

“No. And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Gloria rolled her eyes.

I was too tired to scold her for it this time. So I sipped my drink and read the next question on her worksheet, mentally going through the math for the answer. “What else do you have to do tonight?”

“This and a take-home quiz for health.” She snatched her pencil, tapping the eraser on the table. “I have to answer a bunch of dumb questions so that my teacher knows I understand sex and won’t be stupid enough to get pregnant.”

I gulped. How was I going to tell her? Gloria wouldn’t understand a mistake like this.

Though at least I wouldn’t have to explain my choice to keep the baby. We had the same mother who’d used abortion as a way to crush our tender hearts.

I was a carbon copy of Mom. I had to see our face every day in the mirror. Gloria, at least, took after her father. From her olive skin and straight, black hair, people didn’t realize we were sisters. The only trait we shared were our caramel eyes. Hers were framed with thick, sooty lashes. I looked like a corpse if I didn’t add a few swipes of mascara each day.

My gorgeous, headstrong sister who still saw the world as black and white would not understand how I could have possibly gotten pregnant.

Honestly, there were days when I could hardly believe it myself.

“Do you think I should get on birth control?”

My gaze flew from her algebra worksheet to her profile. “What? Why? Are you, um . . . active?”

Please say no. Please, God, say no.

“Active?” She scrunched up her nose and grimaced. “Faye.”

“Well? Are you?”

“No.”

Phew. “Then why do you think you should be on birth control?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Just in case.”

It was too soon for this talk. She was only fifteen. I hadn’t lost my virginity until freshman year in college. But Gloria was the most beautiful girl at Mission High School. I didn’t need to ask if boys had shown interest. Of course they were chasing her.

It was too soon. But it was time.

“I’ll call Planned Parenthood and make an appointment,” I said.

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “Can we not tell my dad?”

“We don’t have to. But at some point, he’s probably going to ask.” Her dad was not the type to ignore the tough subjects, not when the health and safety of his daughter was on the line.

“He already talked to me about sex and it was the worst, most uncomfortable conversation of my whole life. Forget it. I’ll just stay a virgin forever.”

“I support this plan.”

She giggled. “All the boys at school are dumb anyway.”

“Boys are dumb no matter—” Before I could finish agreeing, the front door opened.

As the chime dinged through the empty restaurant, Rush walked inside.

He’d come back.

The instant surge of conflicting emotion was so strong I nearly choked. Relief and panic and nerves and excitement. I wasn’t sure if I should smile or wave or crawl under the table and hide.

“Oh my God,” Gloria whispered, tucking her chin. “That guy is hot.”

“Gloria.” I elbowed her in the side.

“Ow.” She elbowed me back. “What was that for?”

She wasn’t wrong. Obviously, he was drop-dead gorgeous. But it was going to get really weird if she drooled over my—what? Baby daddy?

Eww. Just thinking baby daddy made me cringe. We were going to need to come up with something else. Friend? Acquaintance?

Co-parent?

“He’s coming over here.” She squirmed a little, sitting straighter as she smoothed her hair.

“No.” I sliced a finger through the air. “He is too old for you.”

“How do you—Wait. You know him?” Her eyes bulged. “Please tell me you dumped Justin and hooked up with this guy instead.”

“It’s, um . . . complicated. Now shush.”

“What’s complicated? He’s frickin’ hot.”

“Hey.” Rush’s deep voice sent a shiver down my spine.

I risked a glance up, up, up to that handsome face. He looked like he was holding back a smile. Which meant he had most definitely heard Gloria call him hot. Awesome.

“Hi.” I shifted, about to stand and make an escape, but before I could get to my feet, Rush slid into the booth across from us.

“I’m Rush.” He extended a hand to Gloria.

Her blush turned fuchsia. “I’m Gloria. Faye’s sister.”

His gaze flickered between the two of us as he shook her hand. Later, I’d tell him we were half sisters. Not that it made any difference. She was all mine and had been since the day she was born.

Mom had told me once that all I was good for was free babysitting. She’d meant it as an insult, but I’d been more than happy to watch Gloria morning, noon and night.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, his attention zeroed in on me. He leaned his elbows on the table, his broad, large frame taking up the entire side of the booth. Even seated, he towered over me. “You okay?”

“I’m okay.”

He hummed. “Pancakes?”

“Sorry.”

Gloria looked between the two of us, her eyes narrowing. “Why are you apologizing for pancakes?”

“Long story,” I said, getting to my feet. “Would you like to order anything?”

“The regular is fine.”

A cheeseburger deluxe with waffle fries.

“Wait.” Gloria held up a hand before I could leave. “He comes here enough to have a regular? What about Justin?”

“We broke up.”

Her jaw dropped. “You didn’t tell me that. Did you move out? Who is this?”

This was not a conversation I wanted to have in front of Rush, so I pointed to her worksheet. “No, I didn’t move out. This is Rush. And you need to do your homework.”

She shot me a glare. It was our mother’s.

I ignored it and walked into the kitchen. Dusty was bent over the newspaper, pen in hand as she reviewed the obituaries.

She hadn’t mentioned her aunt’s passing or the funeral. I’d asked on Monday if she wanted to talk, which she’d ignored, and then she’d gone outside to smoke.

Dusty and I had an unspoken rule. We didn’t push each other on the tough topics. But she was here if I needed to talk. She’d be here to give me the hard truths. And if she ever needed a person to hug, I was at the ready.

Quit? I couldn’t quit. I wouldn’t leave her alone. Besides, I doubted any other restaurant would let me sit beside my sister and help her with homework so often.

“Customer?” Dusty asked.

“Yes. Deluxe cheeseburger and waffle fries.”

“Ah.” She set her pen aside and stood tall. “So your boy came back.”

“He’s not my boy.”

“Right, sugar.” The corner of her mouth twitched before she turned and walked to the flattop.

Rush wasn’t my boy. This pregnancy wasn’t going to lead to some fairy-tale romance. We were simply trying to figure each other out. Figure out how to survive in each other’s orbit.

One cheeseburger with waffle fries at a time.

I returned to the dining room, moving to the beverage station to fill a glass of ice water, then grabbing a roll of silverware with a ketchup and mustard caddy and carrying it all to the booth. “Here’s—What’s going on?”

Gloria stared at Rush, her glare as sharp as a sword, looking like she wanted nothing more than to separate his head from his shoulders.

Rush stared right back at my sister, but he looked . . . curious? Bored? Irritated? I didn’t know him well enough to know what that tilt of his head meant.

“Number seven.” Gloria didn’t shift her gaze as she slid her worksheet across the table to the edge for me to see. “What is the answer?”

I set down the caddy, silverware and Rush’s water, then picked up the paper. It took me a minute of mental math, but I worked it out. “B.”

Rush’s chuckle wasn’t loud, but it seemed to fill the room with that deep, sultry noise. That chuckle had no business being attractive.

A shiver rolled over my shoulders. Crap.

“Ugh.” Gloria snatched the page from my hand so fast I nearly got a papercut. Her lip curled as she scowled at Rush. “Who are you?”

“A guy who’s good at math.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table, then nodded to her worksheet. “Number eight. Let’s go.”

“Fine,” she muttered.

Then together, they worked on number eight.

No one helped Gloria with her homework. No one but me.

I’d been the person who’d gone through her Friday folders in kindergarten and praised her artwork. I’d signed her first- and second-grade reading logs. I’d quizzed her on spelling words in fourth and helped her with science projects in fifth.

Chuck, her dad, simply wasn’t around enough. Gloria’s grandmother was a nice woman, but she’d always been fairly disconnected from Gloria’s education. And our mother, well . . . school was our responsibility. If we succeeded, she was indifferent. If we failed, she lamented her “idiot daughters.”

I had yet to let Gloria fail.

Not once had another person stepped in to help me, help her.

Until Rush.

“Nice.” He grinned as Gloria picked the correct answer for number eight and immediately moved on to number nine.

He was going to be a good father, wasn’t he? Maybe I’d fucked up my life, but at least my kid would have a good dad.

Rush looked up and his eyebrows came together. “You okay?”

All I could manage was a nod.

He’d be a good dad. Would I be a good mom?

I was going to be a mom. Not just an older sister, there to help along the way. This child would rely on me for everything. I was going to be its mother.

When would it stop surprising me? When would it lock into place? My head started spinning so I put my hand on the table to steady my balance.

Rush’s hand clasped over mine, his palm warm and firm as his calloused fingers squeezed.

“I’m fine,” I whispered, drawing in a deep breath before I slipped my hand out from beneath his. I instantly missed the heat from his skin.

“I got this,” he said, nodding to Gloria, scribbling furiously on her sheet to calculate the next answer. “Why don’t you sit down?”

In that booth? Nope. I was a bit too frazzled, and given my emotional state, frazzled usually meant tears. If I started crying, Gloria would ask questions, and I wasn’t ready to give answers, not yet.

“I’ll be back.” I slipped away on wobbling knees.

Dusty was busy cooking Rush’s burger, so she didn’t notice as I shut myself in the bathroom.

I slumped against the door, closing my eyes as my heart stopped hammering against my sternum. “Get a grip, Faye.”

It was just algebra homework. It was sweet of Rush to help. Certainly not something that should have me hyperventilating in the bathroom.

“Ugh.” I buried my face in my hands, forcing air into my lungs. Then I pulled myself together and returned to the kitchen, walking in just as Dusty shook a batch of waffle fries from the fryer onto Rush’s plate.

“Here you go, honey.”

“Thanks.” I swept it up and took it to the booth, braced for what I’d find this time.

Gloria was bent over her page, face hard in concentration as Rush watched.

When I set his plate on the table, he looked up and smiled. “Thanks.”

“Thank you,” I mouthed.

He winked.

The floor did a strange tilt and once more, my balance faltered, but this time, instead of running away, I took the seat beside my sister. And let my knee knock against Rush’s beneath the table. “Do you want to have pancakes tomorrow night?”

He grinned as he picked up a fry. “Sure.”

“What’s with you guys and pancakes?” Gloria asked as she pushed her page across the table.

Not toward me to double-check her work.

But toward Rush.