The Guardian by Katie Klein Page A

can.” His voice cracks, wavering.
    “You’re not the bad guy.”
    “So what’s the problem?”
    For this, I don’t have an answer.
    “Shit. Do you even know what you’ve done to me? I love you, Genesis!”
    “ Why , Carter? You can have any girl you want.”
    “I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I picked you. I love you .”
    He wants me to say it back, b ut I can’t. “I can’t give you that right now.”
    “I said you could have as long as you need,” he reminds me.
    “I know!” I cry. “And I don’t deserve it, Carter. I don’t. I don’t deserve you. But you can’t keep wasting your time, thinking I’ll eventually come b ack around. Because right now I don’t know if I can. Ever.”
    “Is this about the accident? I mean, do you not trust me anymore? Is it my parents? I want to know. I want to fix it.”
    “It’s not about any of that,” I confess. “It’s me. And I’m not . . . fixable, ” I add quietly. I pause for a moment, trying to gather my muddled, screwed-up thoughts. “Things are just . . . they’re different now.”
    Carter slows as the Ernie’s sign comes into view. He pulls into an empty space, and I gather my things.
    “It doesn’t have to be all or nothing, you know,” he says as I reach for the door handle.
    I offer a half smile. “I know. I just . . . I have some things that I really need to work out on my own.”
    Mom is on the phone when I walk inside. I head over to the counter and sna tch my apron from the cabinet, tying it in the back.
    “How’s my favorite waitress?” Stu asks, flipping over a pair of chicken strips with his spatula.
    I blow an angry sigh, swiping the hair off my face.
    His hazel eyes meet mine, friendly, caring. “ That good, huh?”
    “Long day,” I mutter, rubbing my temples in a circular pattern.
    “I know all about those. I’m a long day expert. And. . . .” He tosses the chicken strips onto a plate, adds some fries and a garnish and calls: “Order up!”
    “And I happen to know exactly how to medicate long days.” He cleans off the grill and goes to work.
    Five minutes later he slides a plate of pancakes, eggs, and bacon in front of me. I reach for the jar of maple syrup. Stu, pleased that he’s discovered what appears to be m y food weakness, waits for me to take the first bite.
    I cut my pancakes into triangles and douse the pieces in the thick, sticky sugar. And when I bring the first bite to my mouth . . . a smile lifts the corners.
     
    *               *               *
     
    “ Psst .”
    Seth’s reflection smiles a t me in the mirror, eyes teasing.
    I force a scowl. “You know, for someone who’s only supposed to come around to calm my nerves, you certainly do your share of rattling them. Can’t you like, call before you show up or something? Send me some kind of sign?”
    Seth walks over to my bedroom door and quietly closes it. “What fun would that be?”
    With every breath my heart drifts closer to its normal pace, closer to my forgiving him for these unexpected intrusions.
    “So what brings you here?” I finally ask as I work to straighten the makeup scattered across the top of the dresser. “I mean, I assume we’re past the whole ‘only showing up when I’m in imminent danger’ thing.”
    He collapses on my bed. “I can go if you want.”
    “No. It’s fine,” I say, quickly. “I’m curious is all. ”
    “I was actually wondering what’s up with that new beau of your Mom’s.”
    “Who? Mike?”
    “Yeah.”
    “I have no idea,” I mutter, keeping my voice low. “He’s just some guy who comes into the diner.” I glance toward the door. He’s here now. They’re in the li ving room watching a movie. “What can you tell me about him?”
    Seth smirks. “I’m a Guardian, not God.”
    “Don’t you have, like, insider information or something?” I ask him. “You have to know more than I do.”
    “We’re protectors. We aren’t omniscient. In this c ase,