Counting Paths

Chapter 16.

Roland grabs the smoothie and hands it to me with a safe distance between us. I take it with causation. His grin expression only deepens. "I wasn't going to hurt you," he tells me in a lowered voice for only my ears to hear, and I fold my arms over my chest, staring unblinkingly at the exit sign above the door. "I left the way I did because if I was wrong and you were sent to just screw me over, then I was fucked. I would rather go to prison..." He chokes up, and takes a moment to collect himself. I force myself not to look at him or show any emotions. But my eyes begin to well, betraying me and all my hard work. "I would rather go to prison for the rest of my life than hurt you or treat you like shit."

"Do you think I'm crazy?" I mutter.

He glances around to make sure no one's listening. "I think you were young and in a lot of pain, and I think you were scared. Your life changed dramatically in the worse way, then you...you blacked out...it was a lot for someone your age."

"Two, thirty-six!" The same voice from behind the counter calls.

Roland grabs the gray of food, and I follow him to a table. We sit across from each other. He ordered me a Big Mac with extra Mac sauce, large fries, and six-piece chicken nuggets.

"I get it if you're afraid of me," he tells me. "It's not like I've done anything to make you think otherwise, but I promise you, I will change that."

I grab my Big Mac and take a bite. I chew...then swallow. "The clock."

His brows pull together in confusion. "What?"

I gesture to his tatted hand. "The clock. Why?"

"Oh..." He leans back in his seat, admiring the ink permanently marked on his hand. "Long story short, when I was young, before Kevin and I met and his mom took me in, my foster father was obsessed with clocks, they were his life. He made them, fix them, remodeled them...anyway, I snuck into his office and grabbed the first clock I could get my hands on. It was a fucking Micky Mouse cuckoo clock. I didn't expect it to be so heavy...and it slipped from my hands and fell. The stupid thing broke into a hundred pieces but the hour hands didn't stop. They actually sped up." He cracks his knuckles and clears his throat. "My foster dad came in and started yelling at me, calling me and telling me things only he would consider insults. He was so pissed...he kicked me out because of a clock. I kept thinking...when my world was going to shit and everything felt like nothing was going to change, those damn hands never stopped, the world never stopped spinning to give me a break."

"'It's a constant reminder that we're running out of time,'" I quote him from before.

He nods. "I spent more time than I'd like to admit wondering if a clock was more important than me, but the truth was, I had just wasted all that time of my life over something I couldn't change...time I can't get back." He shrugs and eats a fry. "Life's sick that way."

"And Luna?"

He flips a switch deep inside him. "I thought I was ready...I need more time."

I nod. "Understandable." I force myself to eat.

I finish my Big Mac and half my chicken nuggets when Roland's phone rings in his pocket. He sighs annoyingly as he fishes it out. "It's Russell," he tells me. "You should answer it."

"Why me?"

"Because he's only calling for you."

I put my half-eaten chicken nugget down and take his phone. I press answer before bringing it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Sterling?" He responds with urgency. "Are you okay?"

"I'm alive, if that's what you mean. We're at McDonald's right now. I had a Big Mac. Are you okay?"