Chapter Text
Bob was working the front counter, distracted by thoughts he couldn’t quite shake, when Terry tugged gently on his sleeve. About to snap, Bob caught himself when he saw the look on Terry’s face—serious, quiet.
Terry gave a slight nod toward the back hallway.
Bob turned just in time to see Kate, in a simple shirt and jeans, hair up in a ponytail, peeking out from behind the corner—half-hidden, watching the diner.
“Terry, cover the counter,” he muttered, already weaving through the gap to reach her.
“Kate, what are you doing?” he whispered when he got close, stepping in front of her to block anyone’s view. He kept his voice low, but protective tension vibrated beneath it.
“I told you I was going to start walking outside soon,” she said softly, unfazed by his stance. “I have to start somewhere.”
Bob stared at her, caught between exasperation and admiration. Then he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re right. You need the exercise. But I’m walking with you.”
He backed up, drawing her gently with him into the dining area. The sunlight filtering through the front windows made her squint, her hand rising instinctively to shield her eyes - it had been so long since she’d been up during the day, and had even seen the day.
He guided her to the back booth—her booth—before brushing a hand down her arm. “I’ll bring you something. Just stay here.”
Only when he’d turn did he realize the diner had gone silent.
Every eye was on her. Conversations halted mid-sentence, forks paused in mid-air. Murmurs began to stir.
Kate kept her gaze low, but her fingers brushed Bob’s sleeve just before he could speak.
He turned to her, his anger half-formed.
She shook her head slowly. A quiet gesture. “I’m fine,” she said to him, her voice tired but calm. “I don’t blame them for being curious.”
For a moment, no one moved. Then the murmurs resumed—quieter now, but unmistakable.
Kate leaned against the window, her gaze fixed out and ignoring the curious stares.
Bob’s fists were clenched at his sides as he turned toward the kitchen, but before he could take a step, a voice broke through the hush.
“So she really did get away,” someone said—just loud enough to carry. It was Marcy, one of the older waitresses, pausing with a coffee pot in hand.
Bob turned his head sharply.
“She’s lucky,” another voice muttered from a nearby booth. “Nobody gets away from the Butcher.”
Kate didn’t flinch, but her eyes darkened faintly.
“Or maybe,” a third voice offered, low and conspiratorial, “maybe he let her go. For a reason.”
That one stung. Bob stiffened, his breath flaring in his nose. He was just about to speak—that was no way to speak to her like—
“No one lets you go,” she said clearly, beating him to it, not looking away from the window. “You run. You survive. And you stop talking like you know what the hell you’re talking about.”
Marcy blinked and turned away, pouring the coffee.
Bob exhaled slowly, pride rising up his chest like fire. He turned back toward the kitchen, his lips twitching at the corners.
“Add a milkshake to her order,” he said to Terry on his way past.
Terry grinned. “On it.”
She started to come upstairs more often, slowly moving her schedule back to daytime. More and more people came to the diner, just to see “the one that survived.” There was always people who’d continue to speculate, since none of them dared to go up to her and ask, with the overbearing protector either in the kitchen or behind the counter.
Especially one day, Kate sat in the back booth she always did, her hood up, one leg tucked protectively under her. She wasn’t hiding—but she wasn’t inviting attention either. Her food sat half-finished in front of her. She had brought a book with her, and would periodically look up to see where Bob was at the counter.
Terry pretended to wipe down the counter, ears tuned to the two older women chatting nearby. They leaned in close, their voices just above a whisper.
“That’s her, isn’t it? Poor girl looks like she hasn’t slept since she got away.”
“I heard she was locked in a basement. Must’ve been weeks. You can tell she’s still rattled.”
Kate’s hand froze on her fork.
“And Bob’s been feeding her? Heard she showed up at the back one night all bruised up.”
“What if she never escaped? What if he’s still out there—watching?”
Terry straightened. “You ladies need anything?” he said, casually stepping between them and Kate’s booth.
They blinked at him, startled. “No, we’re just—”
He gave a polite but pointed smile. “Then maybe keep the speculation down. She’s had enough people talking about her without them doing it in the same room.”
One of them huffed, the other looked properly sheepish. Terry didn’t wait for a reply. He turned back, catching Kate’s eye briefly.
She gave him the smallest of nods and a smile. Grateful.
And he went back to the counter, pretending not to care—because that’s what actual nice guys like Terry did in towns like this, where devils wore shadows and rumors ran louder than truth.
Later that night, after closing, Terry was wiping down the counter when the back door creaked open.
Bob stepped in, silent.
Terry straightened up, trying to act natural, but his pulse jumped.
“She smiled at you,” Bob said calmly, but his eyes was anything but.
Terry set the towel down. “She smiles at a lot of people. I got her a sandwich, not a ring.”
Bob moved closer. “You think I’m stupid?” He growled, his eyes narrowing.
“No,” Terry said. “I think you’re protective. Which is fair. But I’m not competition, man.” A beat of silence. “I don’t date women.”
Bob’s eyes didn’t leave his face, staring at him. Then, at last, nods once, slow. “Good.”
Then he walked back out the same way he came, leaving Terry to exhale for the first time in minutes.