she started over, I shook my head and nodded toward another couple in her section who looked ready to order.
“I just want a cheeseburger and fries, sweet cheeks,” the first one said. “He’ll have the same.”
Apparently all the guy’s friend could do was leer.
“Rare,” he continued. “And no rabbit food.”
“You got it,” I said.
“You gonna write that down?”
“I think I can remember. I have an excellent memory.” Ironically, I did. When it came to orders, anyway.
“You get it wrong, and Hershel is not going to be happy.”
I could only assume his friend was Hershel. Either that or he referred to himself in the third person, which would make him even more of a douche. But the name embroidered on his oil-stained shirt read MARK.
His friend’s shirt had the same logo and read HERSHEL. They worked at the same trucking company. Truckers were usually the nicest lot, but every barrel had its bad apples. Judging from the dark oil stains they shared and the thick odor of diesel wafting off them, they were probably mechanics.
I stepped back over to Garrett. “What’ll you have, hon?”
He was seething underneath his GQ exterior but graced me with a smile nonetheless. “I’ll have the special.”
“Good choice.”
I took his menu, trying my best to show him that I was unaffected by the little truckers that could. I couldn’t help but notice the knife he had sheathed at his belt. I didn’t know what he did exactly, but I knew it had something to do with the law. Not a cop, per se, but something similar.
The last thing I wanted was trouble, however. No one needed to risk his safety for me. No one needed to defend my honor. In all honesty, I wasn’t sure I had any. I had forgotten my life for a reason. What if that reason was bad? What if it was unthinkable? Heinous? Evil?
A wave of nausea washed over me. I hurried to the service station and tapped in their orders, but a familiar feeling, one I could only describe as a panic attack, had already hit me square in the gut. I’d been having similar attacks off and on since Day One. It was the sensation of loss, an utter and devastating loss, that brought them on. That tightened around my chest until my lungs seized. That burned my eyes until I went blind.
Shaking uncontrollably, I dug my nails into the counter, leveraged my weight against it, scraped and clawed against the black veil that kept my past hidden. Something was behind the curtain. Something I had to get to.
A feeling of urgency spread like wildfire. I had forgotten. I had left something behind. My most prized possession, only I had no idea what it was.
My teeth welded together and my lids slammed shut as I fought to get through the veil, determination and desperation pushing me to remember. Driving me forward.
The room spun, and I could hear my own heartbeat carpet-bombing my rib cage, my own blood flooding my veins until even the edges of my mind darkened and closed in on me.
“You okay, sweetie?”
Startled, I lifted my lids to see Cookie, my brows cemented together, my breaths coming in quick, short bursts. I felt the dampness of the attack slicken my skin, and my wet palms slipped off the counter.
“Charley!”
Five.
“Come here,” she said, hauling me to the storeroom in the back.
I didn’t miss the fact that she’d called me Charley. She’d done it before. Four times, actually. It was either a term of endearment where she was from, or she was accidentally calling me by the name of someone else she knew. Probably her dog.
She sat me on the cot I’d slept on for over a week before I found an apartment I could afford. This was my home away from home away from home. Wherever that third home was.
She wet a towel and pressed it against my forehead, over my cheeks and mouth, and down my neck. “You’re okay,” she said, her tone soothing, her voice so familiar.
The spinning slowed, and my heart rate decelerated to a normal speed. A normal rhythm.
“You’re going to be fine.” She wet the towel again to cool it off, then placed it on the back of my neck. “You haven’t had one of those in a while.”
I nodded.
“Can you tell me what started it?”
“I don’t know,” I said, my voice hoarse. Then I looked up at her. I wanted her to understand, to be completely aware of what she was getting herself