Queen POV
By the time Demi got home, I was getting ready for work, taking my time with each step as I adjusted to the boot, the way it forced me to be more aware of every movement.
He came bursting through the door like he always did, all energy and noise, his little backpack barely hanging onto his shoulder as he ran straight toward me. "Mommy!"
"Hey baby!" I called back, glancing over as I adjusted the shoe on my good foot.
He ran to my arms, stopping short the moment he saw the boot again, his face scrunching up as he pointed at it. "Your boo-boo still there?"
I smiled a little, following his gaze before looking back at him. "Yeah, baby, it's still there."
He walked over slower this time, curiosity taking over as he reached out and tapped the boot gently, like he was testing it. "It still hurt?"
"Only a little," I said.
His brows pulled together like he was thinking hard, then he nodded to himself and leaned down, pressing a quick kiss against the front of the boot before straightening back up. "There. It will be better now."
I let out a soft laugh, crouching carefully so I could pull him into a quick hug. "I think you fixed it."
He hugged me back tight for a second, then pulled away just as fast, already shifting gears the way kids do. "You gonna go to work?"
"I am, baby," I said, brushing a hand over his hair.
He frowned a little, not dramatically, just enough to show he didn't like it. "I don't like when you go."
"I know," I said gently, smoothing his shirt. "But I'll be back before you know it, okay?"
He nodded, still pouting just a little.
"I love you," I said, leaning down to kiss his forehead.
"I love you," he said back quickly, hopping off the bed, already reaching for one of his toy cars, and took off down the hallway, dragging it along the wall as he ran, making loud engine noises under his breath like nothing else in the world mattered anymore.
I watched him go for a second, a small smile on my lips, before I pushed myself back up carefully and steadied my weight. I made my way down the stairs slowly, purse and keys in hand, taking each step with more care than I was used to as I adjusted to the weight of the boot and the way it forced me to move differently.
Crystal was at the base of the stairs, just finishing up as she slipped her coat into the closet, and she looked up the moment she heard me coming down. "Hey, Ms. Jones," she started, but her voice shifted as her eyes dropped to my foot, her expression tightening with concern. "Oh—wow. It's that bad?"
I let out a small breath, glancing down at the boot like I was still getting used to seeing it myself. "Yeah… worse than I thought," I admitted, shifting my stance carefully.
She stepped a little closer, her brows pulling together as she looked at it again. "When I helped you in, I knew it was messed up, but I didn't think it was like this."
"Yeah, me neither," I said, giving a small, tired smile. "The doctor said I need to stay off it as much as possible."
Crystal shook her head slightly, then glanced toward the living room where Demi's voice carried faintly, already caught up in whatever he was playing. "Well, I'm glad you're not trying to walk on it like that today," she said. "That would've been a whole problem."
"I don't even have a choice," I muttered, reaching into my purse.
I pulled out some cash and handed it to her, making sure it covered both the night before and today. "This is for yesterday and today," I said. "For staying late and picking him up."
She hesitated for a second before taking it, her expression softening. "You didn't have to do all that."
"Yes, I did," I said simply, meeting her eyes. "You helped me out. I appreciate it."
Crystal nodded, accepting it without pushing back any further as she tucked it into her bag. "Alright," she said. "I've got Demi, don't worry about anything."
"I know," I replied, offering her a small smile. "Thank you. Really."
"Of course," she said, stepping toward the door and pulling it open. "See you later, Ms. Jones."
I let out a quiet breath and said goodbye, tightening my grip on my keys before stepping outside.
I made my way toward the bus stop, every step heavier than usual as the boot forced me to move differently. It was frustrating, but it also kept me grounded in a way that I couldn't fall into my usual rhythm even if I wanted to. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing, because this wasn't my usual routine. And after last night, I wasn't in any rush to fall back into something that predictable.
Still, I caught myself glancing over my shoulder more than once, my gaze lingering just a second longer each time, as if I expected something to be there even when I knew better. There was nothing behind me, no footsteps, no voices, nothing out of place, but the feeling didn't completely leave me. By the time I stepped into the diner, relief settled into me before I even realized I had been holding my breath. The space felt lighter without Manny and his friends, the tension gone in a way that made it easier to slide back into my role without thinking too much about it.
Jessica noticed me the second I walked in, "You're here?" she asked, already shaking her head in disapproval.
I tied my apron as I moved behind the counter, avoiding her look. "I'm fine."
"That's not what the doctor said," she replied immediately, folding her arms as she watched me. "You were literally sitting there this morning like you couldn't even put pressure on it, and now you're back at work?"
"I can manage," I said, brushing it off, though my movements were already slower than usual.
Jessica didn't look convinced. "Queen."
"I said I'm fine," I repeated, glancing at her.
She held my gaze for a second longer before letting out a small breath, clearly choosing not to argue further. "Alright," she said finally, though her tone made it obvious she didn't agree. "Just don't be trying to run around like normal."
"I literally can't."
"Good," she muttered, walking off, but not without one last look back at me like she was still debating whether to send me home herself.
I threw myself into work, letting the rhythm of it take over. It gave me focus and didn't leave room for anything else. The routine helped more than I expected, grounding me in something familiar.
Until the bell above the door rang.
I felt it before I saw him, that same quiet shift in the air, subtle but unmistakable. Something calm had entered the room and settled in like it belonged there. My head lifted on its own. I watched as he made his way into the same corner booth.
Our eyes met, and my heart skipped once, sharp and sudden enough to make me pause. I had told myself I wouldn't miss the chance to talk to him if I saw him again. But standing there now, it didn't feel as simple as I had made it sound.
"Queen! Table twelve!"
"I got it," I called quickly, pulling my attention away and forcing myself to move.
Work. Focus. That's what I needed. And yet, even as I moved through the diner, I could still feel him there in the background. I told myself I'd go over there, but for now, I kept moving. I let the routine carry me, pretending that the hesitation wasn't there at all.
—————————————
The night didn't slow the way it usually did.
I kept moving anyway, wiping down counters, stacking cups—anything to keep my hands busy. Standing too still gave me too much room to think, and I wasn't trying to do too much of that tonight.
I told myself I was just tired.
After all that had happened, it made sense that I felt heavy. My body had decided to stay alert whether I wanted it to or not; however, I knew why. I didn't have to look to know he was still there. But of course, I looked anyway. Just for a second…
And there he was, sitting like he had nowhere else to be, one arm stretched along the back of the booth, completely at ease in a place that never really slowed down. A coffee mug rested in his hand, a burger on the plate in front of him.
When our eyes met this time, it didn't feel accidental.
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips and he tipped his head down toward me. The small, polite movement caught me off guard, especially after how I acted last night. I looked away first, my cheeks heating almost immediately. I gripped the counter, trying to steady the pounding in my chest—
but deep within me, a feeling had already begun to stir.
"Girl, you good?"
Jessica's voice pulled me back, and I realized I'd been wiping the same spot for way too long.
"Yeah," I said, straightening up. "Just tired."
"That's not what I asked."
I glanced at her, suspicion clear in her expression.
"I'm fine," I said, softer this time.
She held my gaze for a second longer, then shook her head. "Alright. Just don't check out on me mid-shift."
"I won't."
She walked off, and I forced myself to focus again, grabbing a tray and heading toward one of the last tables that needed clearing. The movement helped a little, but I could still feel him. Not heavy or uncomfortable, but present. And somehow, that made everything else quieter—something I wasn't used to.
Our eyes met again. And this time, I didn't look away. I hesitated for a second before grabbing the coffee pot.
"Don't make it weird," I murmured to myself.
I walked over, my steps uneven but sure, ignoring the way the boot slowed me down. Up close, he looked the same as before—calm, unbothered, like the world moved around him instead of the other way around. But this close, it was different.
For the first time I really saw him.
The brim of his dark tan cowboy hat cast a shadow over his face, but not enough to hide anything important. Dark curls pushed out from beneath it, resting at the nape of his neck effortless and untamed. Light stubble of hair lined his upper lip and jaw, sharpening features already hard to ignore. And then there were his eyes.
Green.
Not soft or light, but deep and vibrant. They made it hard to break contact—I didn't know what to do with the way they made me feel.
He shifted slightly, the smallest hint of a smile pulling at his mouth. That definitely didn't help.
I cleared my throat softly, forcing myself to focus before I stood there too long, staring like I'd forgotten why I walked over in the first place.
"Coffee?" I asked, lifting the pot slightly.
He kept his eyes on mine, a small smile lingering on his face as he lifted his cup slightly.
"Thank you, Queen."
I poured carefully, setting the pot down when I was done. My gaze found his again, and for a second, neither of us spoke.
"I owe you an apology," I said, exhaling quietly. "For yesterday. I was…a little defensive."
"A little?" he said, a glint in his eyes.
I rolled my eyes lightly. "Okay, yeah. A lot."
He didn't say anything right away. He just watched me, something faint in his expression making my chest tighten.
"I just don't like feeling like I need help," I added, softer now.
"Didn't seem like you needed it," he said.
I glanced down at my boot, then back at him. "Yeah… well."
His gaze followed the movement, then lifted to mine again.
"You alright?" he asked.
There was something in the way he said it—no pressure, no pity. Just checking.
"I'm okay," I said. "Just a tumble."
He nodded once, like that was enough.
The silence settled again, easy this time, as I adjusted my footing.
"Well," I said, a genuine smile slipping through as I stepped back, "enjoy your coffee."
"Thank you Queen."
His smile deepened, dimples on display. My heart kicked hard against my chest at the discovery.
I cleared my throat and nodded once before turning and walking away, heading toward the counter. Once there, I moved to refill the now empty pot, the task distracting me from the foreign feeling settling into me. I glanced back.
He was still watching me.
The realization caught me off guard, my heart pounding faster, before I looked away quickly placing the pot down beside me. The way he looked at me didn't crawl under my skin, and I didn't feel like I was being hunted. Not like I had with Manny.
The tension in me faded.