28. Sage

28

Sage

T he last seven days went by slow, each day dragging on. I hadn’t spoken to Callan more than a couple times since our conversation in the barn because we were both swamped with work.

I’d taken on a few extra morning shifts at Bell Buckle Brews, working until Avery got out of school. She had a science project that was due in a few days, so we spent every day after we got home working on the assignment. Callan was booked with lessons anyway, so even if we had time to go see him, he was busy, too.

It’d been a few hours since I opened the cafe, the customers few and far between this morning, so when the cowbell above the door dinged, I perked up immediately. Much to my surprise, Erica came strolling in wearing her black pencil skirt and vibrant purple blazer.

“Good morning,” I greeted, straightening my posture. The last thing I wanted to look in her eyes was bored. I didn’t forget that she was under the assumption that my efforts at work were lacking recently.

She surveyed the tables before looking at the counter I’d scrubbed endlessly all morning. Without many customers coming in, all I could do to fill my time was clean, organize, and bake.

“Morning. Not a lot of foot traffic today?” she asked.

I shrugged. “It’s been steady.”

She came around the counter, eyeing the pastries in the bakery case, presumably trying to see if they were fresh or days old. “The place looks good,” she said before disappearing into the back.

I stayed up front, assuming she wouldn’t want me to leave the register, before she called, “Sage, a moment, please.”

Wiping my hands on my apron, I reached for the bell below the counter, setting it in the center of the counter in case anyone came in while I was in the back. I took a steadying breath before heading through the swinging door. Erica was by the oven, peeking inside at the pastries I had going.

“Is there something wrong?” I asked, doing my best to keep the slight waver out of my voice.

“Nope,” she replied, closing the oven door and then moving on to look in the mini fridge below the counter .

She looked in every drawer, wiped a finger along every surface, likely checking to make sure everything was in order. That was what every good manager did. I didn’t need to worry.

And yet…

“If it was something Gemma said—”

“Gemma?” Erica interrupted, rubbing her two fingers together after having checked for dust atop the spare coffee machine on the counter.

“You said you were going to check in.”

She turned on the faucet for a brief moment, running her fingers under the water, then grabbed a paper towel to wipe her hands dry. “Right. Well, everything looks in order here.”

My hand reached for my necklace on impulse, but I forced it back down. “Was it her?”

She tossed the paper towel in the trash bin, then faced me. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

My brows pulled together. Surely she had to remember. “You said someone made a complaint about my work performance.”

The slightest bit of recognition shone when her chin tilted slightly higher in the air. “Ah, that.” She was quiet a moment, crossing her arms as she leaned a shoulder against the cabinet beside her. “I can assure you it wasn’t Gemma who made the complaint, as to keep the peace here in the cafe.”

My forehead creased further as her words didn’t make anything any clearer. “I’m confused. Who filed the complaint, then? ”

Her finger tapped her arm a few times as she contemplated telling me. “All I can say is that it was a male who spoke to me on the phone.”

My eyes widened slightly before the worst case scenario started flying through my mind. Was it the guy from the bar, the same man who came in asking my last name? Was that why he’d come in, so his complaint was more viable if he had my full name?

Or could it be Jason?

With that thought alone, the blood drained from my entire body.

“A Food Safety Inspection guy is supposed to come in next week, if you and the girls can keep up the cleanliness around here,” Erica said, though her voice barely penetrated my thoughts.

I forced a nod.

“Right, well, I need to get going. I have a long week of meetings in Boise, but if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call.”

I nodded again, and I barely noticed when she walked by to leave.

If Jason was trying to sabotage my job, he knew where I worked.

And if he found my place of work, he could find where I lived.

Where Avery and I lived .

I blinked a few times before crossing to the sink to fill a paper cup with water, taking a long gulp. Once it was empty, I filled it again, chugging the water like it could somehow clear my head.

None of it was confirmed.

I had no idea who had made the complaint to Erica, and for all I knew, it was an angry customer that got one sugar instead of two.

I dug around in the top drawer for the bottle of Advil we kept back here, taking two pills to keep the impending headache at bay. I tossed the cup in the trash, giving myself a minute to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, just like Callan told me to.

I attempted to distract myself with questions, but it didn’t work as well as when he did it.

Grabbing my phone from my locker, I shot Callan a text.

Me : What’s your current view?

In less than a minute, he was typing back.

Callan : Ace attempting to bite a soccer ball. What’s yours?

Me : Unfortunately not the same

Callan : Is everything okay?

Me : Other than my boss stressing me out ?

The three dots appeared and disappeared three times before he replied.

Callan : I’ll come by once I’m done with my lessons. Call me if you need me, okay?

Me : Okay. Thank you

Callan : Always, baby. I’ll see you soon

I shouldn’t want to rely on him in this moment, but I wished his arms were around me and his voice was speaking soothing words in my ear. It'd been so long since I had someone I felt like I could turn to in a time like this, and now Callan was the only one I wanted to take my mind off of everything.

I needed him, but I wouldn’t put that burden on his shoulders. I could get through this until he was able to come by.

I was strong.

***

My shift was ticking by at a snail's pace, every minute feeling like an eternity. Tomorrow was my day off, so naturally the entire day was dragging on.

I lost count of how many times I’d scrubbed the counter, but I was wiping at the same spot I’d just been working on twenty minutes ago. I was even more eager to see Callan than I was to be off. We’d texted and called since our talk in the barn—we even fell asleep on the phone together the other night—but neither of us had brought up my wrist or my ex. It was hard to figure out if he didn’t want to hear about it, or if he was simply not bringing up the topic for my sake.

The cowbell above the door announced a customer coming in, so I tossed the rag on the counter and turned to greet them.

But rather than words flowing out of my mouth, my heart stopped instead, my breath getting stuck in my lungs.

“Hello, Sage,” Jason said, and the greeting was anything but warm.

I swallowed, trying my damned hardest to compose myself. I did not want him to see that I was scared.

Fear only fueled him.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, but even I didn’t miss the tremor in my voice.

He prowled up to the counter, his movements slow and predatory. Each step echoed through the small eating area, pounding in my ears with the panic I tried to keep at bay.

“You weren’t replying to my texts.” He took another step, but instead of stopping in front of the counter, he turned to come around the side. “Or answering my calls.”

“You’re supposed to be in prison,” I said, not allowing myself to take my eyes off of him.

He came around the corner, facing me. I inched backward a step, holding onto the edge of the counter for support.

“Good behavior gets you a long, long way on such a bullshit charge.”

But we both knew it wasn’t bullshit.

Or at least, I did. Maybe he still believed that what he did was fine. To take charge. To control.

But that wasn’t how you treated a woman, and I knew that now.

All those years spent thinking, maybe this is the last time. He loves me, he wouldn’t possibly do it again.

“What do you want, Jason?”

He held his hands out, palms up. “I’ll make it easy on you. I don’t care about seeing Avery. Just pay off my debt and give me money every few weeks to make up for the hell you’ve caused me, and we’re good.”

The hell I caused him? As if he never treated me poorly? Never raised a hand to me? He thought he did nothing wrong, as if he had been falsely convicted of domestic abuse.

I hadn’t realized I was shaking until I slid my hand on the edge of the counter as I took another step back from him. He was still slowly coming closer, cornering me.

I have to move. I can’t let him corner me,

“I can’t afford that. I’m barely getting by as it is,” I said. My words were hurried, my voice more high-pitched than normal.

He was a foot away from me now, staring me down like a lion would his kill.

I took another step, and my back hit the wall. I flinched when my shoulder blades connected with the wall, every nerve ending inside of me standing at attention.

One more step, and he was in my face, lowering his gaze slightly so that we were eye to eye. His hand came up to roughly grip my jaw and it took all I had in me not to make a sound. “Then figure it out.”

The cowbell rang out with the door opening, but before either of us could look that way, a voice said, “Step the fuck away from her or I’ll cut your fucking hand off.”

Callan .

Fuck, fuck fuck.

If he got involved, if Jason hurt him, I’d never forgive myself.

Jason moved his hand from my jaw, patting my cheek twice before he removed his hand. I closed my eyes tightly against the touch, wishing I could just fucking disappear. His hands on me made my skin crawl, fear pounding in my ears. This was nothing compared to what he’d done in the past.

In front of me, I could tell Jason had straightened, and I opened my eyes. Callan was standing in the middle of the cafe. All I wanted was to go to him and sink into his arms and let him hold me.

Jason scoffed. “You run off to some cowboy, Sage?”

Callan approached, coming around the back of the counter. “Step away from her.”

Jason faced him. “Or what, big boy? ”

Callan kept his calm, but I could see the rage building inside him with the slight flare of his nostrils.

“You need to leave,” Callan demanded.

Jason chuckled. “Am I really being threatened by a hick right now?” He reached behind him, grabbing my arm.

“Jason, let go,” I begged, trying to pry his grip off of me with my other hand.

His grip slid down my arm to my wrist and he tugged. Pain shot up my arm, my hand going numb as I hissed in a breath.

“My girl and I were just leaving actually,” Jason said.

As if he had the fucking right to claim me.

“You’re hurting me, Jason, please.” Tears stung my eyes as my arm laid limp in his hold. When the pain got too bad, my nerves would burn and my hand wouldn’t want to function. That’s how it felt as Callan took two steps forward and swung.

Jason dropped my wrist as Callan’s fist connected with his jaw. He staggered a few steps to the side with the impact, and before Jason had the chance to react, Callan was reaching around him to urge me toward him. His hand at my lower back, I quickly moved out from behind Jason, only to be moved behind Callan’s back now.

His hand slid into mine behind him as he warned, “You swing back, and you’ll end up right back in that prison.”

My hand was still numb, doing its best to hold onto Callan’ s.

Jason wiped the blood from the corner of his lip, looking at the red drop of liquid glistening on his finger. “You picked a fight with the wrong guy, hick boy.”

Callan’s thumb gently rubbed along my wrist. “I don’t pick fights I won’t win, and I’d suggest you do the same. Bell Buckle doesn’t take kindly to guys like you, so unless you want this whole town on your ass, I suggest you leave.”

I didn’t doubt for a second that the Bronson brothers would put Jason in his place. I was sure the entire town would, too, but I didn’t want that on my conscience. I already felt guilty for involving Callan.

Jason dropped his hand from where he was admiring the blood, staring daggers at me. “Remember what I said.”

Then he shoulder checked Callan on his way past him, and I couldn’t take a breath until the cowbell chimed.

Callan turned, carefully lifting my hand to examine my wrist. “Are you okay?”

My breaths were too short, but I nodded, then shook my head. “It’s not bad. It’s okay.”

Callan’s cheek pulsed as his jaw clenched.

“Your hand. Is it okay?” I looked at his knuckles as he cradled my hand. The skin was red.

He let out a disbelieving breath. “You’re asking if I’m okay.”

“I’m not the only one who matters here, Cal.”

He eased my hand back down to my side as his gaze darted between my eyes, searching for answers I wasn’t sure he wanted to find .

“What did he mean?”

“He wants money.” And apparently me.

Another tick in his jaw.

“How much?” he asked, though I knew he wasn’t asking with the intent to actually pay him.

“I don’t know. He wants me to pay his debt, then give him an allowance.” But I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to. I didn’t have the money to support us and him. If he was the one who made the complaint about me, how did he expect me to pay him if I was jobless? Unless he expected me to go back to Portland with him.

Callan reached up, running a hand over his mouth, then gently wrapped his arms around me. I folded into him, finally able to take a full, deep breath. My lungs expanded in relief.

Some people sprayed lavender on their pillow to calm themselves, but all I needed was Callan and I could breathe.

“We’ll report him to the police and he’ll go back to prison,” Callan said, his chin resting on top of my head.

“What if he hides? It could make him more mad.” More angry at me.

Callan leaned back, cupping my face in his hands so I was looking up at him. “Baby, I can’t live with myself knowing you or Avery could be in danger because he’s here. I would love to stick by your side twenty-four-seven, but we both know it’s not possible.”

I blinked, nodding. “Okay. I’ll report him.”

“ We ,” he corrected. “We’ll both report him.”

“You don’t have to—” I started.

“Sage,” he interrupted. “It’s you and me, together. You’re not in this alone anymore.”

After all these years, I didn’t know I needed to hear that to truly feel safe.

Even with Jason out there, walking the streets, Callan made me feel protected. Like I didn’t have to worry about every what-if on my own.

I had him to lean on when I needed it.

And that was freeing in itself.