My sister worked at the same dinky diner I’d gotten a job at as soon as I was old enough to work. Mom had a bad habit of taking most of her money, but at least it got her out of the house now that she’d graduated from high school.
My grip tightened around the phone. “I’m so sorry, Reese.”
“She was drunk,” she whispered. “She kept yelling that I needed to give her more money.”
A spike of helpless rage shot through me. I forced my voice to be soft. “Are you safe now?”
“Yeah. I locked myself in my room when we got home. She passed out on the couch.” There was a shaky pause. “I hate it here, Rylin. I want to leave.”
The sound of her breaking killed me in a way nothing else ever could. I hunched over the table, pressing a hand to my forehead. “I know, Reese. I almost have enough money saved. I’ll have the rest soon.”
Which meant more shifts. Maybe picking up a job somewhere else. Maybe not sleeping at all until her birthday. Whatever it took.
I heard footsteps in the hallway behind me, but I kept my voice down. “Just hold on a little longer, okay? I’m going to get you out.”
“I will. I trust you.”
We said quick goodbyes, and I hung up with a sigh. The sandwich and fries I’d snagged using the staff meal code weren’t as appetizing as they had been when I sat down. But I forced myself to eat most of it so nobody could tattle to Micah that I’d skipped a meal. The last thing I wanted was for him to be worried about me when he needed to focus on winning his game.
Two hours later, I deeply regretted every bite I swallowed when the whispers from my coworkers reached my ears. The food felt like lead in my stomach.
I’d noticed the quick glances and half-hidden giggles earlier, but I tried to ignore them while focusing on my tables. But as I was refilling the sugar caddies, two servers passing behind me didn’t lower their voices enough.
“Micah’s paying her bills. Has to be.”
“I heard he’s covering her rent. Explains why she’s suddenly the favorite.”
My hands stilled, and ice washed through my stomach.
“No wonder she gets schedule preference,” someone else murmured. “She’s using him.”
“I don’t care how delicious her baked goods are. We all know that’s not why she got the chance to do some of the desserts here.”
I straightened slowly, turning just enough to see Derek leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching the rumor snowball with a look that made my skin crawl.
Mortification hit so fast it stole my breath.
This was why I hated to accept help from anyone. People always assumed the worst. And since I’d gotten close to Micah, he was the subject of petty gossip among some of his employees. It was going to embarrass him. Or even worse, he’d think I was using him for his money.
I forced myself to finish the rest of my shift in silence, keeping my head down and pretending I didn’t hear a single whispered word.
For the first time in weeks, I headed back to my own apartment, and when I finally got home that night, my phone buzzed with a text.
Micah
Good night, baby. Sweet dreams.
I stared at it until the words blurred. Then I sent a one-word reply.
Me
Good night.
I wokeup the following morning to my phone buzzing beside my pillow.
Micah
Morning, baby. Bake your touchdown bars today for good luck?
