"Shit, did you see that?"

I look up from my phone with furrowed brows and a pointed stare at Sidney. "See what?"

"The pig that just flew past the front window," she says dryly.

I roll my eyes and pocket my phone. "Was that your attempt at a joke?"

She laughs and leans against the counter. "You've been smiling a lot lately. Its just different, is all."

"Good different?" I ask.

"Very good. It's a nice contrast to your usual resting bitch face," she smirks.

I stick my tongue out at her. "You love my resting bitch face."

"Holy fuck, a whole group of pigs must've flown by, because since when do you stick your tongue out?" she asks seriously.

"I don't see the big deal," I reason, turning to straighten a stack of menus.

Sidney nudges my shoulder. "Okay, but all jokes aside, I'm happy for you. Seriously. He seems like a good guy, and you've smiled more times this month than you have this entire year. When's he taking you out?"

A grin tugs at my lips at the mention of our upcoming date. "This Sunday. I have no idea where we're going though, and I'm trying not to think about it."

"Why not?"

I gesture at my face. "Does it look like I've ever been on a date? I'm shitting bricks."

She snorts. "It'll be fine. I'm glad to know that dates are still a thing, though. Lucky bitch."

"Oh, no." I turn towards her and cross my arms. "What'd he do now?"

A twinge of anger crosses Sidney's features. "I haven't seen Lincoln in a week."

I frown, confused. I motion for her to continue.

She groans and throws her head back in aggravation. "He's been distant. Every time I ask him to hang out, he says he already has plans. I feel stupid even thinking it, but... maybe he's cheating on me."

"Have you lost your mind?" I ask her calmly.

Not even giving her a chance to respond, I continue. "He's obsessed with you. You guys might argue all the time, but I can tell he loves you. I don't think he's cheating. But if he is, I'll kick his ass."

"I think I'm gonna do a stake-out," she announces.

I laugh. "Need some back up?"

"This is why you're my best friend," she sighs. "I'll let you know when it's going down. Be ready."

"Sounds good," I smile.

A chime echoes around the diner and Sidney and I both straighten up, attempting to look busy.

"Oh fuck," Sidney murmurs suddenly.

I glance up to see what's going on, and stiffen when I see Aunt Dina weaving through tables with a dopey smile on her face and cheetah print slippers on her feet. She looks awful. Her hair is greasy and sticking up in every direction, and she looks like she got dressed in the dark. Neon green basketball shorts and a hot pink t-shirt with holes and stains on it hang off of her sallow frame.

My cheeks flame when she spots me and drunkenly shouts, "My favorite niece!"

Which, lets be real here, is clearly the alcohol talking.

She comes to a stop in front of me and collapses onto a barstool, the counter serving as a barrier between us. "What are you doing here?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"Is that how you talk to your customers? Get me a damn menu! I'm starving, here," she slurs.

I snort and cross my arms defiantly. "Yeah, like you have more than two bucks to your name. What the hell are you really doing here? This is my job."

Dina burps loudly before placing both of her palms on the counter. She sways in her seat as she leans forward, way too close to my face.

"I got a secret," she drawls.

I clench my jaw as I eye the conniving smirk on her face. "Okay, I'll bite," I sigh dramatically. "What the hell are you talking about?"

She holds up a finger and reaches into the pocket of her vibrant shorts, pulling out one of those cheap TracPhones you'd find at the nearest Dollar General.

I watch in annoyance as she pulls up the Facebook app on her phone and begins scrolling through her feed, a giddy smirk on her face. "Thought you might wanna hear it from me first," she says, amusement coating her tone.

Impatient and tired of her games, I turn to walk away when she finally says, "Here we go!" and thrusts her phone under my nose.

I balk when the image on her phone finally loads. My heart literally drops to my stomach, because I'd recognize those faded and horribly done tribal tattoos anywhere.

Through the cracks on Dina's phone, a photo of my father kissing a woman's very pregnant belly fills the screen.

Dina notices my shocked expression and says something, but I ignore her snide remarks. Sidney stares over my shoulder in disbelief, and is just as surprised as I am.

You'd think the first words out of my mouth would be something along the lines of, Oh my god, my dad knocked his mistress up. I'm going to have another sibling, but instead, the only words I can manage are, "He looks sober."

And he really does. The photo only shows his side profile, but his stature is visibly fuller and healthier than I've ever seen him. His cheeks aren't hollow and sunken in. His arms aren't frail and the size of twigs. He's not even dressed in his usual ratty flannel, distressed jeans, and work boots. Instead, he wears a button down shirt and khakis.

I guess the most shocking thing about the photo is that my dad doesn't look like the dad I knew. I'd grown accustomed to his lazy, unhygienic, and unhealthy ways, so the man I'm staring at now is the complete opposite.

I can't even begin to register the fact that dad has somehow knocked the obviously very young woman up. She's beautiful; long, wavy dark hair, and tan skin. She looks about the same age as me, which is embarrassing and weird.

I swallow harshly and push Dina's hand away. "I gotta go," I say distractedly.

"So do you," Sidney says to Dina. I didn't even realize that she had dragged RJ from his office, or that he was now escorting her to the front door.

I ignore Dina's shouts and drunken laugh as she hobbles away from RJ's, and instead I rip my apron off and storm through the kitchen until I reach the back door that some of the cooks usually disappear through when they need a smoke break.

The alley behind RJ's reeks of cigarette smoke and trash from the dumpster. Heart pounding, I pull my phone from my back pocket and don't think twice before clicking on Austin's contact and pressing 'call'. It's almost scary how natural it seems to contact him when my world feels like it's been tilted on it's axis.

"Hello?"

I almost drop to my knees at the sound of his raspy voice. Relief fills my chest, and suddenly it's easier to breathe.

I clear my throat, but it still feels like it's full of gravel when I finally speak. "Can you come pick me up?"

I lean my back against the brick wall behind me and revel in the rustling sounds on the other line. "I thought you were at work? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," I clear my throat again. "Something happened."

He's quiet for a minute. "I'm on my way, alright? I'll be there soon."

"Yeah."

I end the call and run my hands over my face. I urge myself to yell, or cry, or do something other than stand here silently. But once again, I'm emotionless. Empty. Hurt.

I take a deep breath, straighten up, and swing open the back door. Sidney rushes up to me immediately and pulls me into a hug. I wrap my arms around her, and just stand there.

"You're good to go," she says quietly. "I already talked to RJ. Call me later tonight so I know you're okay."

I laugh harshly. I don't deserve her. "I love you so much," I mutter.

"Is Austin coming to get you?"

I nod.

"That's good. You know that, right?"

I nod again.

Sidney pulls back and looks me in the eyes. "Let him in," she says firmly.

"I gotta go. He'll be here soon," I say instead.

She steps aside. My body feels like lead as I walk through the kitchen and round the corner to clock out. It almost feels robotic when I gather my purse and apron, and walk out the front door.

The sun is sharp and blinding and the Memphis heat is at full force, even though we're nearing October. I lean underneath the awning of the diner and watch mindlessly as cars drive by and people roam the sidewalks.

Five minutes later, Austin's Jeep pulls up to the curb. He peers at me through the window, one arm poised on the steering wheel.

I climb up and take my time shoving my purse and apron down at the floorboards under my feet, and even as I buckle up. When I look over at Austin, his face is pinched in concern.

His eyes roam my face. "Wanna talk about it?" he asks.

I hesitate.

"Whenever you're ready," he says quietly. I let out a breath of relief. I need a minute to get my head on straight. I'm quiet as he puts the car in drive and pulls away from the curb.

For the first time in a long time, tears prick at my eyes. And it's ironic, because here I am, completely stoic after finding out something so huge and life changing, but suddenly overcome with emotion after a man I haven't known very long, even though it feels like he's been in my life forever, comes to my aid.

I'm a mess.

Ten minutes later, we pull up in front of my house. As usual, Austin puts the car in park and turns towards me. I peer through the window and relief floods through me when I notice that, even though it's mid-day, all the lights inside are off.

Mom was gone when I woke up for work this morning, and Savannah was still at school and wouldn't be getting home for a few more hours.

I unbuckle my seatbelt, turn to Austin, and shock the hell out of the both of us.

"Will you come inside?"

He visibly swallows. His eyes search my face again, and after a moment, he nods. Wordlessly, he turns the key in the ignition and shuts the car off.

We both open our doors, and for the first time, I lead us both up the short driveway, and up the rickety front porch. I dig my keys from my purse, and once it's in the lock, I pause and turn towards him.

"It's a mess. The furniture is really old, and it smells like cigarette smoke and-"

"Aria," he cuts me off. He meets my sheepish gaze head on. "You don't have to explain anything to me. Ever. You have to understand that."

I blink at his sharp tone. I nod slowly and turn back to the door, pushing it open.

My breath catches when we walk across the threshold, and I try to look at our home from his eyes. I wasn't lying; it's a mess. The walls are bare, no family photos or decorations. The maroon carpet in the living room and hallway is worn and ugly. Mom's huge glass ash tray sits atop the ash covered coffee table, filled with cigarette butts. Beer bottles, soda cans, and paper plates with leftover food surround the ripped couch. In the corner, a pile of mom's dirty clothes sit proudly on display. Our dusty, cracked box TV plays a daytime soap opera.

God, it's all so ugly. Everything is tainted and just ugly.

I close my eyes and exhale sharply. "I'm sorry. It's usually cleaner than this, but-"

"Hey," Austin nudges me. I open my eyes and blink, surprised to find him in front of me. He gently takes my purse from my hands and sets it in the tattered recliner to our right.

"Talk to me," he says roughly.

I nod. I motion for him to follow me, and lead him down the hallway to my room. Austin makes a noncommittal sound as I unlock my bedroom door.

Once we're inside, I take a seat in the middle of my bed and cross my legs. He takes a seat beside me, and emotion clogs my throat when he wordlessly reaches forward and pulls my leg towards him. I watch in astonishment as he begins untying my converse and pulling the shoe off of my foot. His touch and his presence are gentle and calming.

While he works on the laces on my left foot, I begin telling him what happened. My voice is emotionless and monotone as I relay today's earlier events, and the disbelief only increases. My words sound comical, even to my ears. My life is a shit show.

"He looked different," I ramble. "He never looked like that when he lived here. But in that photo, he looked... healthy. Happy."

I mean he had to be, right? He was kissing her stomach, for God's sake. He must be... happy and excited for his new baby's arrival.

Austin sits quietly, letting me get everything off of my chest. Suddenly, I sit up straighter and whisper, "He's having a baby. How the hell is he having a baby? Is this his way of starting over?"

My chest tightens. The family he already had wasn't good enough, so now he was starting another one.

"You don't deserve this," Austin says suddenly.

"I don't understand it," I say quietly. "Why weren't we good enough? Why couldn't he get clean for us?"

Austin reaches forward and squeezes my calf. "We'll never know why addicts do the things they do. We probably never will. We can't make them get better if they don't want to. But I promise you, that his drug abuse has nothing to do with your self worth. The choices he makes aren't a reflection of who you are."

I can't believe this man is sitting in my house, on my bed. I can't even begin to understand how or why he's sitting with me right now, but he is, and I'm so damn glad.

Feeling brave, I meet his eye and tell him, "You talk like you've experienced it before."

He grins wryly and scratches at the stubble on his jaw. "My mom was addicted to opiates for a short time. Before she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. It was the hardest shit I've ever had to experience, because I thought I'd be enough to make her stop."

My heart hurts for him. Hurts for the both of us. "We can't make them stop," I whisper.

"Come here," he rasps. Not thinking twice, I surge forward, and he catches me. His tattooed arms wrap me in a hug that makes me really want to cry.

Hugging Austin feels different. Good different. Fulfilling, and natural, almost.

I bury my head in his neck and my heart damn near beats out of my chest when he puts one hand on the back of my head and holds me to him.

"Thank you," I murmur into his neck. He squeezes me tighter.

"You deserve better, Aria. I want to give it to you," he says through a curtain of my hair.

My breath catches in my throat. "You already have," I tell him honestly.

——

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