“Fine.” I double check my pockets to make sure I have my phone and wallet before looking out at the still pouring rain. It shows no signs of stopping as thunder bellows a wicked blow.
I’d rather face that than sit here another minute feeling like I don’t belong. Like I’m being pushed out. Like I’m the stain everyone wants to remove.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say and grit my teeth against the cool, sharp pellets of rain that hit my skin the second I step out from under the awning. It instantly soaks my shirt, my shoes, my hair, dripping into my eyes, and I blink it back. “I wouldn’t expect it at this point anyways. Congrats to the happy couple.”
“Reid—” he calls out after me, but whatever he wants to say dies on his lips as he stays with Carter tucked away from the rain. I make it halfway down the street before I discreetly glance over my shoulder to see if they’re still there, if maybe I should turn around, but the last little flicker of hope dwindles in my chest.
The spot where they were once standing is empty.
He didn’t try to follow me.
13
Aspen
The sun is shining today and I’m about $34,000 lighter.
I spent the entire walk to work trying to figure out what to make of Reid paying off my loans and our call yesterday. When I woke up this morning, I felt lighter, a little freer. I can’t lie and say that it doesn’t feel fucking great to not have that sort of debt on my shoulders anymore.
And I’m not above admitting that the amount of money means significantly less to him than it does me, so I’m not going to try to deny the help that he gave me. Because in reality, it was going to take me years and years to pay them off. And he did it in one simple sweep.
But at the same time, I don’t want him to feel like I’m mooching off of him all the time. The loans, driving me home, buying me the occasional dinner. It’s nice and all, but what does it all mean?
I don’t want to have a hard time trusting that he’s just doing it because he what…cares about me? But no one, with the exception of my friends, has ever done something for me purely out of the goodness of their heart. Or because they loved me.
Luckily, work has been a good distraction from my warring thoughts about it. It’s been fairly slow, but it’s given me a chance to deep clean the shelves behind the bar and reorganize the stock.
I’m busy making a fresh batch of cold brew for tomorrow when the door chimes. “Welcome in,” I call over my shoulder. “Be with you in a second.” I secure the lid on the giant jug and shake it a few times before tucking it into the fridge. I’m wiping my hands on my apron when I turn to see who walked in.
“Wow, you’re about”—I crane my neck to look at the clock behind me—“seven hours too early.”
Reid slides onto the barstool with a dark cloud practically obscuring all the lights in the bar, and instantly my mood drops. All thoughts of loan payments and questions I have for him die on my tongue.
“Is everything okay?”
He crosses his fingers on the bartop and cracks his neck. “Can I get a coffee?”
It’s obvious he’d like something stronger at the moment, but it’s not time yet so a coffee it is. I pour him an iced coffee with a splash of milk, just how I’ve learned he likes it, and slide it across to him.
He mumbles what I think is “thank you” but can’t be certain. I leave him with his drink while I check in on the couple of other customers in here. Once they’re all squared away, I come back to Reid, still hunched over and brooding, and lean my elbows on the bar. His cologne overpowers the smell of brewing coffee and draws me closer.
Like spearmint, but spicier.
I draw back before he comments on my proximity. “So,” I sigh. “What’s up? Why the long face today?”
He gives me a dull look and I smile sweetly in return. “You’re in a good mood,” he gripes.
“Can’t say the same about you. What, are you hungover from your big fancy party last night?” He was worried about arranging a ride home for me since he was going to Nikolai’s party, but I was off. I spent the evening watching a documentary series with Marley and then freaking out over my loans seemingly disappearing overnight.
“I wish,” he mumbles, taking another sip of his coffee. His thumb traces a drop of condensation on the glass as he gives it a troubled look. I catch myself watching his hands, which is something I’ve noticed myself doing a lot of lately. I quickly check myself.
Something must’ve gone wrong last night. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment, obviously debating if he wants to take me up on my offer or not.
“Since you came here so early, you clearly didn’t want to be by yourself today,” I say. “And since you sought me out, I’m assuming it’s because you don’t have anyone else to talk to. Am I right?”
He turns his hard stare on me, and I grin.
