Brent’s POV
The diner hadn’t changed one bit. Same creaky stools at the counter, same faded menu board with specials that hadn’t been “special” in a decade, and the same waitress who always acted like you were ruining her day just by showing up.
It was perfect.
Betty slid into the booth across from me, her arms crossed and her face flushed from the hike. She pulled at her hoodie like she was trying to make herself smaller, even though she didn’t need to. She never needed to.
“You look like you’re about to collapse,” I teased, grinning as I set my backpack down.
She gave me a withering look. “I’m fine. And for the record, it was your idea to climb that mountain.”
“Guilty,” I said, leaning back and grabbing the laminated menu.
The truth was, she looked... good. Her cheeks were pink from the cold air, and her hair was falling out of its braid in soft curls around her face. She wasn’t the kind of person who dressed up or worried about looking “perfect,” but there was something real about her. Honest.
“Are you going to stare at that menu forever, or do you already know what you want?” she asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Double cheeseburger,” I said without missing a beat. “Fries. Milkshake. You?”
“Same,” she said, setting the menu down.
***
The food came out faster than I expected, plates clattering onto the table along with a tray of condiments. Betty’s burger was almost comically big—dripping with melted cheese and stacked so high she had to tilt her head just to get a good look at it.
“Why do I feel like this thing is judging me?” she muttered, picking it up carefully.
“Because it knows you can’t finish it,” I said, popping a fry into my mouth.
“Oh, I’ll finish it,” she said, glaring at me. “Watch me.”
She took a huge bite, and I couldn’t help but laugh as ketchup dripped onto her plate.
“What?” she said, her words muffled through a mouthful of burger.
“Nothing,” I said, grabbing a napkin. “You’ve got...” I reached across the table, wiping a streak of ketchup from the corner of her mouth before she could stop me.
Her eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of something else there, too.
“Thanks, Mom,” she said sarcastically, swiping the napkin from my hand.
By the time we finished eating, the sun had dipped low enough to cast long shadows across the parking lot.
We sat there for a while, not really talking, just letting the warmth of the diner and the hum of the jukebox fill the silence.
“It’s good to see you again, Bethany,” I said suddenly, breaking the quiet.
She wrinkled her nose, leaning back in the booth. “We go to the same campus, Brent. You see me all the time.”
“Yeah,” I said, meeting her eyes. “But here, right now. This is the Bethany I know.”
She didn’t say anything to that. Just looked down at her hands, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Outside, the evening air was crisp, and as we walked back to the car, I couldn’t help but think that today felt... right.