Redemption Road (Vicious Cycle #2)(34)

I had no idea how many hours had passed when I woke up to Rev gently shaking me. “Time to stop for gas and something to eat, Sleeping Beauty.”

With a yawn, I replied, “Not hungry.”

“Nope. Don’t want to hear anything other than your chewing. You need food to build your strength back up.”

I popped one eye open to look at him. “Eesh. You’re so bossy.”

He grinned down at me. “Come on.”

“Perfect,” I mumbled as I sat up in the seat. I rubbed my aching neck with one hand and opened the car door with another. “Where are we?”

“About an hour or two from the Louisiana state line.”

I felt my mouth gape open in shock. “I slept the entire way across Texas?”

“Pretty much. ’Course, I was making good time. Cops don’t pay much notice to hunk-of-junk cars.”

I grinned. “I see.” As I gazed around the parking lot at our surroundings, I saw that Rev had stopped at some mom-and-pop greasy-spoon kind of diner. From the eighteen-wheelers lined up in the parking lot, I could tell the place catered to truckers. “We’re eating here?” I questioned, trying my best not to openly express my disappointment.

“Are you insinuating this place is a dump?”

My cheeks instantly warmed. “Of course not.”

“It’s okay, Annabel. I was just teasing you,” Rev replied. “This place does look like kind of a dump, but it just so happens to come highly recommended.”

“It does?”

He laughed. “Don’t sound so surprised. Good food doesn’t always have to come on linen tablecloths and on fine china.”

“I am well aware of that,” I countered. When he ducked his head to rummage around in the trunk, I added, “For the record, I haven’t always eaten on fine china with silver. I do know how to be normal.”

Rev closed the trunk lid. I saw then he held his leather cut in his hand—the one I hadn’t seen him wear since my first night in the hospital. He slid it on, and almost instantly, his appearance changed in front of me. The kind, approachable Rev seemed to fade away and in his place was a tougher, rough-around-the-edges guy. It was more than just a little unnerving.

He had become so in tune to my feelings that he immediately looked at me with scrutiny. “What’s wrong?”

“Why did you just put that on?”

While he tried to shrug off the question, I could see his jaw clenching like he was holding back. “It’s my cut.”

“But why now? I mean, I get you not wearing it at the border where you could be identified.” I drew in a deep breath and repeated an earlier question. “Are we in some kind of danger?”

Rev stared at me for a moment before exhaling a loud breath. “Look, Annabel, there’s a lot about my world that you don’t understand and you don’t need to understand.”

“So you can’t explain to me why putting on a piece of leather matters?” I motioned to his cut.

“Just know as long as you’re with me, you’re not in danger.”

“Especially since you’re wearing that cut now?”

Rev growled as he shoved his keys in his pocket. “You just can’t leave it alone, can you?”

“Being stubborn is part of my being normal, too,” I countered.

I was grateful when he finally smiled at me. “I know you can be normal, Annabel. In fact, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen someone able to be so ‘normal’ in spite of what all she’s been through.”

“Thank you,” I murmured.

“So come on. You need a nutritional meal, and this place is supposed to have really good food—some nutritious shit that you need.”

When I realized that was all I was going to get from him, I reluctantly agreed. “Okay.”

As we walked across the parking lot, Rev kept his hand at the small of my back. When we walked inside the diner, the bell over the door tinkled, alerting the patrons to our presence. It seemed to me that conversation momentarily halted, but it also could have been just my imagination.

A waitress who reminded me a lot of “Kiss my grits” Flo from the TV show Alice came up to us. I’d often watched old reruns on the television set in the kitchen when I was growing up. Our cook had been a big fan of the show. “Two?”

“Yes, please.”

She grabbed some menus. “Follow me.”

As we passed a row of booths and tables, the hardened-looking truckers took notice of Rev. Then I witnessed an expression of respect pass over their faces. I knew then the reason why he had put on his cut. There was unspoken power in the worn leather, and at the moment, I was grateful for it.

We slid into a booth next to a large glass window. The waitress handed us the menus. “What can I get you to drink?”

“I’ll have a Coke,” I replied.

“And you?” the waitress asked Rev.

“I’ll take a sweet tea and a milk.”

The waitress scribbled down our order. “Be right back.”

I started to glance over the menu when Rev said, “By the way, the milk is for you.”

My gaze snapped to his. “Excuse me?”

“You need the vitamins.”

“What if I don’t like milk?” I countered.