They were family, and they would never desert him, unlike his blood.
By the time they reached the diner, the scent of coffee and frying bacon greeted them, grounding him in the present.
Annie’s Diner had an old-school, no-nonsense charm that came from decades of service and just enough wear to prove it had lasted. The steel-sided building gleamed dully under the morning sun, the once-bright finish softened by years of exposure to salt air drifting in from the Gulf. A red-and-white striped awning stretched over the row of windows, shading the front booths and the line of stools inside where the regulars probably had their own unofficial seats.
The entryway jutted out slightly, leading up three concrete steps worn smooth from use. The glass-paneled door bore a hand-painted sign in faded red letters: Come on in, we don’t bite—much! A wooden bench sat off to the side, likely where early risers nursed their coffee while keeping an eye on the town’s comings and goings.
A chalkboard sign near the entrance boasted today’s special: “Biscuits and gravy, just like Mama used to make”. Bennett had seen enough diners in enough towns to know that was either a bold promise or a well-earned reputation.
What stood out most, though, was how lived-in the place felt. The steel exterior had lost its high shine, but the building was still solid, still standing strong despite the elements.
A bell chimed above their heads when they stepped inside, and beyond the scent of coffee and frying bacon, the diner had that lived-in feel—cozy booths, checkered floors, a long counter lined with customers. The kind of place where people probably had their own coffee mugs waiting for them.
“Just as I thought. Gabe’s here,” Mac said, nodding toward Bryson, sitting at a corner table near the back.
The former SEAL sat with a clear vantage point, his back to the wall, full view of the exits. Typical of an operator, active or not.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” A woman smiled as she came around the counter. She was petite, with gray hair, a bandaged hand, and two pencils sticking out of a bun at the top of her head.
Mac leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Hey, Annie.”
“None of that sweet talk.” Laughing, she swatted him away with her unbandaged hand. “You boys here to eat, or do you plan to just stand in my doorway looking pretty?”
Cooper grinned. “Can’t we do both?”
“You can try, honey, but I’m only feeding you.” Annie grinned before turning her warm brown gaze on him. “You must be the new guy.”
He nodded and would’ve offered his hand if her right hand hadn’t been bandaged. “Bennett Vaughn. Good to meet you, ma’am.”
“Such nice manners,” she said, with a smile. “But no need for formality around here. Please, call me, Annie.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, then cleared his throat at her raised brow. “I mean, Annie.”
Her smile returned. “That’s better.”
“How’s the wrist?” Mac asked.
“Yeah.” Cooper frowned. “I heard carpal tunnel’s a bitch.”
She snorted again. “It is, but Doc says I’ll be back to flippin’ pancakes in no time. Thank God my niece, Laurel, is here to help out.” Annie motioned toward Gabe’s table. “Go on, have a seat. I had Laurel set two full carafes on the table, so help yourself to coffee. One of us will be by to take your order.”
“Thanks, Annie,” Matthew said while they did as they were told.
On the way, they passed a woman delivering drinks to customers in a booth. She appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties with a ring on her left hand and smile on her face.
The niece, no doubt.
Upon their approach, Gabe’s gaze landed on Bennett. A smirk tugged at the sheriff’s mouth as he leaned back in his seat.
“Well, hell,” Gabe drawled from the head of the table. “Didn’t think I’d see your ugly mug around here, Vaughn.”
Bennett snorted as he sat to Gabe’s right, while Mac took the seat on the left. “Gotta say, Bryson, I didn’t have small-town sheriff on my bingo card.”
Gabe smirked. “And I didn’t have Bennett Vaughn willingly working with a team again on mine. Guess we’re both full of surprises.”
Truer words…
Bennett nodded, grabbing a menu. “Figured I’d at least eat before regretting my life choices.”
