Weighted Silence (Complete)

Chapter 4: Saylor

4Saylor

The diner smelled amazing.

It was early enough for breakfast still, but as it neared ten, I detected burgers and chicken mingling with the aromas of bacon, sausage, and eggs. Was enough to almost make a girl drool. I breathed it deep as I tried to will myself to stop shivering, my eyes out the window at the snow that continued coming down. The giant pane of glass offered comforting daylight into the otherwise dim interior of the place, but it also radiated frigid air that ate through the vinyl booth against it and oozed right into me. I could barely stand it.

Looking across from me, Dion seemed perfectly content, but his eyes were scanning over me with furrowed brows. After a moment, he eased out of the booth and stood. I watched him as he unzipped his heavy parka and shrugged out of it, taking a moment to smooth the cobalt blue sweater he had underneath before handing me the coat.

It took zero prompting on his part as I immediately slid out of the seat and took it from him, shrugging my arms into the thick lining and zipping it up to my chin. It was a couple sizes too big for me, and I didn't have to wonder that I probably looked like some bizarre breed of blonde penguin in it, especially when I noticed Dion smiling, just a bit. But at least it was warm.

"Don't laugh." I shoved my now-bulky self into the booth again. "Thank you."

He inclined his head, his lips having lost all hint of his smile as I watched him balance his elbows on the table.

"Are you really not cold?"

He shook his head, leaning up as a pretty brunette approached us. Wearing a white apron over her red outfit beneath, she beamed a mega-watt smile at Dion and braced her hands on her hips. "And who is this gorgeous young thing that you've brought into my restaurant, Dion?"

She had a thick accent that I couldn't immediately place. It was something European. Romania maybe... Across from me, I noticed Dion's gaze had turned in my direction. So had the woman's. Offering an awkward wave, I smiled.

"I'm Saylor. I'm new in town. Just here for a week."

The woman smiled. "Is Dion an old friend?"

I glanced at him, but he wasn't paying attention. "No, no, we just met yesterday. He's been... showing me around."

"How nice. Well, welcome to Misfire. I'm Dorina, but my friends call me Dori. Where do you come from?"

"Phoenix."

She arched a brow. "Phoenix? What's a girl with cacti in her blood doing up in snow country?"

I glanced at Dion for some kind of prompter, but he was staring into his lap, his expression unreadable. Licking my lips, I faced Dori again. "Um... my father died and left me everything. So I'm just here to... sell his stuff, I guess."

Dori's frown was sympathetic. "Who was your father?"

"His name was Jefferson."

Her eyes whipped so fast to Dion I was surprised they didn't snap. "Not Jefferson Monroe?"

Dion lifted his head to nod, causing Dori's frown to sink from sympathy to raw hurt. Not for me, but for him, brewing that storm of questions inside me again as she let out a long breath and turned back to me.

"I am sorry for your loss, but I thank the good Lord for that man's death. I only wish it had been sooner."

Well that was a terrible thing to say. I wasn't sure whether to nod or frown, so I did neither. Just shrugged. "I never met him, so—"