“Don’t worry, I got this.”
She peeked through her fingers, nodding. “I feel like shit having to ask you.”
“Don’t. If I didn’t want to help, I wouldn’t.” His voice was softer.
“Oh, Rags,” she whispered.
“I’ll meet the guy and pay him.”
“Thank you. I’ve been scared for so long.”
“It’s handled.”
“I knew I could count on you. I was a fool to blow what we had.”
Rags handed her more napkins. She wiped her face, then smiled.
Julie slid out of the booth and moved beside him. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face against his chest as she cried. He rested a hand on her shoulder, trying to steady her. “Come on, Julie. It’s okay.”
“Rags,” she whispered.
The front door swooshed open. Rags glanced up and froze. Casey stood at the cashier’s counter, a takeout bag in one hand. Their eyes met, and the raw hurt in hers hit him like a punch to the gut. She slid her wallet into her purse and turned.
Julie tightened her grip as a small sob shook through her. Without looking at him, Casey walked out.
Fuck.
Rags untangled himself from Julie. “I gotta go.”
“What? Where?”
“Now. Move.”
Julie scrambled to her feet and stepped back. Rags shoved his way to the front of the diner. “Put everything on my tab,” he shouted to Maddie as he burst through the door.
He ran into the lot just as Casey’s headlights flared. “Casey!” He slammed his hand on the hood as she backed up, her tires crunching over the icy gravel. For a split second, her face flashed in the windshield—pale, wrecked, determined. Then she gunned it and drove off.
Rags stood in the freezing lot, snow stinging his face, as he stared at her vanishing taillights. “Damnit!” His voice echoed in the stillness. He pulled out his keys and hurried toward his SUV, catching a glimpse of Julie’s face pressed to the window, her hand waving him back. He ignored her. All he could think about was Casey. There was no way he letting her go without at least explaining that what she saw wasn’t what she thought.
Rags pulled into Casey’s driveway and took the porch steps two at a time, his heels slipping on the ice. He rang the doorbell. Nothing. He rang it again, then pounded against the wood.
“I know you’re in there, Casey.” He dragged a hand through his wet hair and knocked harder. “Open the damn door, or I’ll break it down.”
“Stop it,” she said, her voice muffled through the heavy wood. “You’re making a scene. I don’t want to see or talk to you.”
“It isn’t what you think. Open the door so I can explain what—”
“I’m tired of explanations. I’ve had a lifetime of them. Go. Away.”
Rags clenched his fists forcing down the volatile mix of anger and the fear churning inside him. He leaned his forehead against the door, feeling her presence on the other side.
“Case. Open the door. I chased you through a damn snowstorm because losing you”—he paused, glancing at the snow shimmering under the porch light—“scares the hell outta me.”
The sharp click of the lock warmed him. The door cracked open just enough for one dark, guarded eye to appear.
“You have thirty seconds,” Casey said.
“The woman you saw was my ex. She’s in trouble. I said I’d help.”