Chapter 3 - THE SCARS WE CARRY HOME
The Route 17 Diner door swung shut against the wind.
The three thugs scrambled out into the rain.
They left behind spilled coffee and blood on the linoleum.
Old Mrs. Patterson adjusted her glasses in booth three.
She didn't say a word.
Jimmy Alvarez slowly lowered his spatula.
“You okay, Lena?” Jimmy asked, his voice trembling.
Lena stood behind the counter, clutching her torn uniform.
“I’m fine, Jimmy.”
Matteo walked behind the counter.
He didn't look at Jimmy.
He reached out and gently touched Lena’s wrist.
Where the thug’s fingers had squeezed.
“He left marks,” Matteo said, his voice dropping an octave.
“It’s nothing,” Lena whispered, leaning her forehead against his chest.
The familiar scent of cedar and rain enveloped her.
“We’re leaving,” Matteo said quietly.
“No,” Lena pulled back, looking into his eyes.
“We built this life here, Matteo.”
“Ordinary.”
“Safe.”
Matteo shook his head slowly.
“Men like Dante Moretti don't forget names like mine.”
“He knows you're here?”
“He knows now.”
Outside, headlights swept across the diner windows.
A black sedan idling by the highway.
May you like
Watching.
Waiting.
