Chapter 14

Ifeel the soft touch of something on my neck and ear, making me giggle lightly as it nudges me from sleep. Something warm and hairy rubs against my cheek, and I wiggle, wondering how Gabe got so fuzzy overnight.

“Really? I’ve got morning breath,” I say, turning my head away, but a smile takes over my face.

Meow.

My eyes flutter open to see Vash curled up next to me, her head tilted to the side quizzically like she’s asking me just what I mean. Stretching, I reach over and realize I’m in bed alone, at least human-wise.

For a moment, I think maybe I dreamed the whole thing, conjured it up out of my desire to do something crazy, be irresponsible for once, and to feel Gabe’s body against my own. But as fast as I think I made the whole thing up, my body lets me know that last night was real. Very real, and very large.

I stretch out my muscles, loving the way they feel used in different way. This isn’t the typical sore-feet and tired calves I wake up to, but rather a whole-body feeling of Jell-O.

Meow!

“Vash... off!” I grumble, nudging her away. Instead of scrambling, Vash tosses her head and jumps down, confident that she’s woken her human up properly and that we’re about to get on with the day.

Dammit.

Disappointment floods me as I realize Gabe really has left, and I panic a little, worrying at how stupid I’ve been.

“Hit it and quit it,” I whisper.

I told myself I was going to go with it and have fun, and I did. I don’t regret that, but I can’t help but have a twinge of something sharp in my belly. More than disappointment, maybe disenchantment? I guess I hoped Gabe was different.

A flash of white on the floor next to my panties catches my attention, and I sit up, realizing that all my clothes are neatly folded, and my bag, which I left in Gabe’s SUV, is sitting next to the pile. The white is a piece of cardstock, one I’m familiar with since it’s the same cardboard that The Gravy Train uses for their take-home container tops.

This one’s been folded in half, though, tented, and has a large Bella written on it. Reaching out, I open it.

Princess,

I’m sorry I didn’t wake you, but you looked so peaceful and I know you need sleep with your busy schedule. I had to go to work, but trust me, there is nothing I would’ve rather done than to hold you all morning.

I know I promised you a ride to the diner to get your scooter, and I’m sorry I couldn’t do that before I leave. But I left you a little something on the kitchen counter to make up for it and make your day a bit easier.

I’ll see you tonight, nine o’clock sharp, but I’ll be thinking about you all day.

It’s signed with a scratchy capital G that I trace with my fingertip. Okay, so he left, but he didn’t bail on me. That’s a good sign, right?

Touched, curious, and desperately needing to pee, I get out of bed and slip into the bathroom, where I take care of biz quickly before walking into the kitchen. I am floored by what I find.

It’s a bag... a big bag, and while the red and yellow ‘M’ on the side might not be my favorite restaurant in town, the smell of pancakes, syrup, sausage, and cheese inside has my mouth already watering. I haven’t had a real breakfast in too long, and I can’t believe he’d do this for me.

More surprising is what I find inside the thoughtfully folded shut bag. In addition to three sandwiches, there’s a small carton of milk with Vash written on it. It’s so sweet of him to think of her, especially considering she wasn’t particularly welcoming last night. It’s then I see the cup of coffee, bottle of orange juice... and a Range Rover key fob. Shocked, I look up through the front window, and it’s still there, candy-apple red and gleaming in the morning light.

I press the key against my chest, everything feeling like I’m being broken apart again. It’s such a kind gesture, the type of thing I’m not used to people offering. And if I’m honest, the sort of charitable generosity I’d refuse if Mia or Charlotte tried to foist it on me. But from Gabe, it feels different. Like he’s taking care of me because he wants to, not because he thinks I’m failing at doing it myself. That’s probably fodder for a therapist, or at least a wine-fueled girls’ night in, but right now, I’m not examining it too much.

Take life as it comes, Izzy. And enjoy.

My body hums happily in soreness from last night, my eyes itchy with tears that I don’t want to let fall, and my stomach grumbles for the smorgasbord of food before me. This could be the start of an awesome day.

Meow.

I look down to see Vashy rubbing against my legs piteously, and I’m sure she’s hungry. Grabbing the milk, I open it and pour a saucer for her. I’ll get her food out before I leave.

“Okay, Vashy... ten minutes’ vacation before we get back to the grind, okay?”

Vash meows again, looking at the bag, and I chuckle.

No wonder Gabe included three sandwiches.

“Uh-oh.Char, I think we have a problem.”

My two besties lean against each other, whispering and giggling loud enough for me to hear them as I walk into the cafeteria at Goldstone Inc.

Mia had begged for us to do our weekly lunch on her home turf this time instead of our usual Gravy Train break. She said something about a big project and data this, trends that, and at that point, I’d just agreed to get her to stop talking analytical statistics. I swear, half the reason I went into graphic design was so that I never had to delve as deep into numbers as Mia does. But she loves it, thankfully. Better her than me, I suppose.

“What?” I ask, checking my shirt for stains and that the fly of my black skinny jeans hasn’t slipped down. There’s nothing out of place, I think as I slip my dark hair behind my ear. So why are they still smirking at me? “What?” I repeat.

Mia breaks first, drawling out, “Hey, cowgirl, been riding that pony long?”

I finally get the joke they’re telling on my behalf and shove at Mia, a sporting laugh popping free even though I try to hold it back. Mia devolves into giggles and even Char looks damn amused at the tease. “I’m not walking funny,” I argue good-naturedly, then pause a minute before asking more seriously, “Am I?”

Char rolls her eyes, turning her nose up. “I am not talking about sex when I’m not getting any. You two can take your hot dicks and keep them to yourselves.” She sounds half serious, half joking, and Mia’s eyes catch mine.

Before we can communicate via eyebrows, though, Mia smiles widely. “You said ‘hot dicks’. I’m thinking you’re trying to speak it into existence, girl.” She nods sagely, and Char huffs, striding off toward the line of people waiting to get lunch.

We follow, silently agreeing to change the subject because Char seems more than a little touchy. I wonder if she had another bad date? But when we get in line, she’s perked up, talking to the lady who just brought out a big tray of rolls.

“You have a Hobart mixer that handles the dough with no problem? I splurged and got a KitchenAid a few months ago, but I would give my left arm to play with a commercial setup.”

I have no idea what Charlotte’s talking about, and I realize that maybe I haven’t been the best of friends with her the way I should be. I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve been a bit caught up in my own mess to push her to share, especially when she’s tight-lipped. But I try to draw her out now. “You turning Chef Ramsey on us? I’m up for any taste tests you want to schedule.”

She grins a bit, telling the roll lady thanks before answering me, “I’ve been playing with some recipes and learning a lot. I really love baking. Cakes, pies, cookies, rolls, breads. All of it. It’s a bit magical, adding all these basic ingredients in precise measurements, mixing it properly, all just so. But then you bake it, and instead of some boring result, it’s beautiful melt-in-your-mouth goodness.”

Mia grabs one of the yeasty, golden rolls and plops it on Charlotte’s plate, then does the same to mine and her own. “I’ll take some melty, yummy goodies too. Hey! You should do that as a job. It’s not like you’re happy at Blackwell’s, so why not? Ditch your job and chase the yellow biscuit road to a bakery gig. Or open your own!” Mia claps like she’s solved the biggest problem in the world, which honestly, if it were a math problem, she could likely do.

But Charlotte dips her chin, uncertain. “I don’t know. It’s more of a hobby right now, my sanity saver. Maybe one day.” She sounds wistful and dreamy, but a little lost too. I know she struggles with her current job and the overall pall that is the culture at Blackwell’s. Bland, dark, heavy with stressful responsibilities, and definitely not worth the amount of work she puts into her role as receptionist and screener.

But I get why she’s doing it. If anyone would, it’d be me. It’s not like I dreamed of being a waitress one day, but I’m doing what I need to so that the future is a bit brighter. Char’s doing the same.

We sit down and each take several bites of our food. It’s not as good as Henry’s, but I’m mostly happy just to eat a full meal at one sitting, including, wait for it . . . a salad. An actual salad loaded with fresh, crunchy veggies. I could inhale it. But I savor each bite, thinking I should suggest to Henry that we include a salad option on the menu at the diner. It’d likely sell, and if it didn’t, I could take the almost-stale lettuce and carrots home with me. Win-win.

Charlotte returns us to the previous conversation, even though she’s the one who said she didn’t want to talk about it. “Okay, so give us the Beefy McSmiles update. Just hold back on telling us about the magnificence of his hot dick, ’kay?”

Mia grins, pointing with a carrot stick. “You said ‘hot dick’ again. Preach it, girl, drop to your knees and send that message to the universe.”

I save Mia from Charlotte’s friendly backhand smack by answering, “He stayed over last night.”

Both their eyes jump to me, locking me in place. I want to tell them everything, but at the same time, I want to hold it all tight to my chest. The memory is like a trembling soap bubble, perfect and swirling but so fragile that even a whisper could pop it, letting the magic fly out. So I stick to the bareboned basics.

“He came to the diner, and then we went for a drive, ended up at my place for the night. He left this morning before I got up but left me his car because he’d promised me a ride to the diner today to get my scooter. He’s supposed to come by tonight too.” I can feel the stretch of my smile, lips spreading ear to ear as the butterflies slam around in my stomach like it’s a heavy metal mosh pit.

“Whoa. One taste and he gave you his car?” Char teases despite her protestations that she’s not going to listen to commentary about sexual things. “Izzy, I didn’t know you had such a world-class cootch!” She laughs at her own outrageousness.

“Charlotte, please have some manners!” Mia admonishes. “We don’t use vulgar terms like that. I prefer to think of it as a perfectly provocative punanny. Much more alliterative.”

“Only if she used her punanny,” Charlotte volleys back. “What if it was literally a booty call?”

“Hmm, good point. We need more data.” They look back to me as they wrap up their comedy routine.

“Enough. You two are crazy. It was not a literal booty call,” I hiss, trying not to laugh because I don’t want to encourage them. I guess I never thought about the weird things we talk about because it was always about Mia or Charlotte, not my nonexistent sex life. But when the spotlight is shining on me, hot and bright, I kind of want to hide like a prudish nun, even though there is nothing puritanical about what I did last night.

Mia slurps from her Coke, her eyes twinkling. “Don’t knock it ’till you’ve tried it.” She sets her drink down, asking carefully, “So you’re seeing him again tonight?”

“Yes, Mama Mia. He’s coming by, and no, I don’t know what the plan is. We’ll take it as it comes, I guess.” It’s a reminder to myself more than anything. No expectations, no strings, just enjoy it while I can.

Mia looks to Char, but she holds her hands up, palms facing us. “Nope, I’m out on this little parental lecture. You don’t want to know what I think.”

I look from one to the other, almost too afraid to ask. “What?”

Mia inhales, still pulling words together as she starts. “Look, when you came in, it wasn’t your swaggered walk that sold out what you’ve been up to. It was the smile on your face. I haven’t seen that kind of smile on your face in forever. Like you’re actually happy, like the world isn’t a giant river of shit you have to slog through.” I interrupt, making a disgusted ‘ew’ face that Char echoes.

Mia ignores us, pointing a blue-tipped nail my way. “You like this guy, a lot. And I love that you are putting yourself out there, and more importantly, putting yourself higher on the priority list. Just be careful, that’s all.”

Unexpectedly, I feel a sting in my eyes at my friend summing up so disgustingly and eloquently what I’m feeling. Happy, for the first time in a long time. “What if he hurts me?”

Char jumps in. “So what if he does? Just because it hurts, doesn’t mean you quit. Hello.” She gestures at herself, and I wonder again what her latest dating disaster was, wishing she’d talk with us about it. “Of the three of us, you’re probably the most well-equipped with handling some painful shit. Lord knows, you’ve been through the wringer. So who cares if this is a short-term thing or he disappears back to Albuquerque or wherever? You’re having fun now. He makes you feel special now. You deserve that. And that’s worth the heartache you might have at the end.”

But the look on her face says that’s not necessarily true. I can see the pinch around her eyes, the hurt it causes her to say these things. “Are you okay, honey? You can tell us, you know. Whatever the bastard did, we’re on your side. Team Charlotte, all the way.”

She smiles, though her eyes shine. “It’s fine. Just got a little blindsided, but it’s a temporary situation. I’m not heartbroken, more just . . . ugh!” She growls instead of labeling whatever it is she’s feeling, and my heart hurts for her.

She shakes herself, flinging off the emotions that have overtaken our lunch and sitting up straight. “Okay, immediate subject change. Mia, you’re up.”

Mia grimaces, not meeting my eyes, and the mood shifts uncomfortably. I see her swallow and know something’s wrong. “What’s up, Mia? Thomas kick you out already? You can stay with me, you know?” It’s meant to be light, because if I know anything, it’s that Thomas Goldstone is one hundred percent head over heels for my girl, Mia.

She smiles, not laughing. “Okay, so I did a thing. A thing you’re going to be mad about, but I swear it was with the best of intentions. Remember that, ’kay?”

My brow furrows. “What did you do?”

I glance to Charlotte, looking for some insight, but she shakes her head. “Nope, all her. But for the record, I agree that she was right. Just putting that out there, up front.”

Mia licks her lips and continues. “So, after we talked before, I told Thomas about how Russell was jerking you around, scaring and threatening you.”

My jaw drops, genuinely hurt. “That was private.” Shame blooms, hot and acidic as it burns its way through my veins.

She nods, rushing onward before I can get too upset. “I know, but listen. So, I told him what was going on and that Russell had been a prick before but had really amped up his bully routine the last few months. So Thomas looked into it.”

I glare at her, feeling betrayed but also wanting to know what Thomas found.

“Remember a few months ago when Russell went radio silent for a little while?” I nod, remembering how wonderful that month had been, but it’d been the calm before the storm, because he’d come back with a vengeance, demanding more than ever. “He was in jail for thirty days, ended up with some major legal fees and interest on some drugs he’d bought on credit. That’s why he went so hardcore. He truly needs the money to make good on his own shit. And he’s using you to do it.”

I’m silent, processing everything she said. It makes sense, but Russell’s reasons don’t change the fact that I still legally owe him. “Crappy story, but that doesn’t change the reality. He’s got the legal right to charge me, and I’m going to pay, no matter how hard I have to work, because one day, I’ll be caught up.” I’m taking Mia’s suggestion to heart, speaking it to the universe and hoping fate will help me make it come true.

She rubs at her cuticle with her thumb, showing her nerves, and I realize there’s more. “What? Just spill it.”

“I paid him,” she mumbles under her breath, and I’m sure I misheard her, but then she repeats herself, a bit louder, a bit stronger. “I paid him. The back balance is paid in full, and I set up an account to release the monthly payments on a schedule so he can’t hassle you anymore.” Her expression is stony, daring me to fight this.

My first reaction is absolute, utter relief. A huge weight off my shoulders, a fear in my belly dissolving, and hope blooming in my heart. Then I realize... “I can’t let you do that. I can’t accept that kind of help, Mia. I appreciate it more than you know, but it’s too much.” I shake my head vigorously, like that’ll make it not true.

She shrugs, like what I just said has no weight at all. “You can’t undo it. Thomas helped me set it up so it’s all trackable, no cash payments he can say he never got. Russell already took the back payment, so that’s a wash. You could stop the monthly payments if you want to, but I’m begging you to let it go.”

She reaches across the table, grabbing my hand. “Let me help you this way. I don’t want the money back, but if you feel like you need to call it a loan, then wait ‘till after you graduate and get settled in a job you love. Then worry about it. I can’t sleep another night wondering if that asshole’s gone off the rails and hurt you, because he’s going to, Izzy. He’s losing it, and you’re going to be the collateral damage.”

Char lays her hand on top of mine and Mia’s, the stack of the Three Musketeers ready to tackle the world.

“She’s right, Izzy. I know you don’t want to hear it, but you need some breathing room, and getting Russell off your ass does that.” Her voice is quiet but fierce, brooking no argument. “You’re a grown ass woman, and you do a great job handling your own shit, but some problems you shouldn’t have to bear on your own, especially when you have awesome friends who are happy to have your back.”

I sulk a bit, wishing it hadn’t come to this. My head shaking, I try not to be pissed at their ganging up on me, even if it’s for a good cause. “I’ve been scratching and clawing for so long, fighting every step of the way. I won’t give up on myself now.” They both try to speak, jaws dropping open, but I cut them off. “This is my problem, and I’m going to take care of it.”

Charlotte shakes her head, muttering, “Stubborn pain in the ass.”

Mia takes the more direct approach, growling, “Your problem, my ass. We may not be blood, but we’re sisters.” She calms by the slightest margin, pleading, “I can’t continue sitting up at night, worrying about you. Do you know that we check in with each other, call The Gravy Train sometimes, all just to make sure nothing has happened to you?”

Charlotte adds to the guilt trip, whispering, “We appreciate that you got a gun, got some training on shooting, but that was before we knew just how desperate Russell is. He’s giving me the creeps, honey, and I have a bad feeling about this whole thing. Do what you need to so that you make peace with Mia’s help, but take the money.”

I look at them both, but they’re dead serious. They mean business. And I guess I’d been so lost in my own struggles that I hadn’t considered that they might be this worried about me. Hell, at this point, Mia might track Russell down herself and get some of her Russian dad’s friends to make a visit. They’re teddy bears, but they definitely don’t look it.

Letting out a huge sigh, my shoulders sag in defeat. At the end of the day, I know they’re doing this because they love me. But my God, they’re killing me with this level of kindness.

“Fine,” I relent. “But I’m paying you back as soon as I can.”

Mia can’t even manage to be gracious about winning what I’m betting she thought was a sure loss. She sticks her tongue out at me before saying, “Sure thing. Your first payment is due the next night off you get, two complete hours jamming in a dungeon.”

If anyone else said that to me, I’d probably punch them, but Mia’s hardcore gaming addiction means there’s at least part of her that’s always yearning for hours spent in front of a screen with a controller in her hands. It’s not my favorite pastime, but Mia is my bestie, so I’ve played more than my fair share of her favorite game, TERA.

“Deal, but I am paying you back for real.”

Maybe they don’t understand, but I have to do this. I can’t just take the money. Crossing that line once makes it easier to do it again and again. Before you know it, you’re saddled with so many emotional weights on your soul, you just give up.

I can’t give up.

I won’t give up.

“I gotta go, guys,” I say, standing up. “But we’re good. And really, thank you. I mean it, I really appreciate it.”

Mia and Charlotte stand up too, wrapping me in a hug. I stand still for a moment, and then I give in and hug them back. Tears burn my eyes, and I choke out, “Thanks, guys.”

“We love you, you know that, right?” Mia says, holding me at arm’s length and obviously concerned she’s pushed me too far but willing to do it anyway for my own good.

I nod, knowing she’s also right. I might not have any blood family... but I’ve still got two sisters. “I know. I love you too.”

Getting in the fancy SUV, knowing that this huge axe hanging over my head is gone, feels foreign, like this life isn’t my own. But it is. With good friends and a nice guy, maybe I’m finally turning a corner and going to make some progress.

Maybe, after taking part-time classes for so long that I have teacher’s aides younger than me, I can finally graduate. Then I will repay Mia.

“Think of it like a . . . private student loan,” I tell myself, and though it’s a piss-poor balm on my soul, it does help a little bit as I drive home to get ready for work.

I head inside, making sure to lock Gabe’s Range Rover. Vash greets me with yowls for food, as always, and I pour her a bit, relieved to know I might be able to afford her next bag more easily.

The knock on the door makes my heart jolt, hope that Gabe stopped by instantly springing to mind. I rush to the door while trying to not get tangled up with Vash, who insists on winding herself around my legs.

“Vash! You trying to kill me, girl?” I ask, taking a huge step to avoid her tail. I’m still looking down at her loud meow as I open the door. “Hey, Ga—”

“What the fuck is going on? You got some bigshot sugar daddy now?” Russell barks, a distasteful sneer on his face.

“Fuck you, Rusty,” I growl, moving to slam the door. But he shoves a dirty, cheap workboot-covered foot in the way, blocking me from shutting the door.

“We’re not done,” he says, an evil grin splitting his ugly face as he slams his palm to the door.

In a twisted way, I’m just thankful he didn’t slap me that hard. That’s what I’ve been reduced to, grateful to not be attacked. I wish I had my gun, even though I fought against getting it in the first place. Right now, I wish it was in my hand because I truly fear that Russell is going to push his way into my house. And then it’ll just be the two of us.

And I realize that I’m in bigger trouble than I’d ever imagined.