Aloe's POV
The diner in Durango, Colorado, was exactly the kind of place I'd learned to love over the past two weeks—small, local, staffed by people who minded their own business as long as you tipped well and didn't cause trouble.
The kind of establishment where a pregnant woman paying cash and keeping to herself was just another customer rather than a curiosity.
"More coffee, honey?" The waitress, Maria, according to her name tag refilled my decaf without waiting for an answer. She was probably my age, with kind eyes and the efficient movements of someone who'd been working restaurant shifts for years.
"Thank you." I managed a smile, grateful for the casual warmth. After months of being either controlled or manipulated, simple human kindness felt revolutionary.
"You're not from aro
