But not if I got distracted.
Perspective,Vera.
I went home an hour later. And sixhours later when Killian texted to see if I’d decided to go out or not, I toldhim I had a headache.
He didn’t text back.
I was safe from losing myself again.
I was back in neutral territory withKillian.
I was a coward.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, I felt like shit.It might have been because I stress ate my way through a half pan of doublefudge brownies. The box kind. I’d sold out for two-dollars-worth of anxiety-induceddesperation.
But just so we’re clear, no matterhow many good meals I’d had, or how high my standards for food were, boxedbrownie mix was the best kind of guilty pleasure.
Or, my exhaustion and icky feelingof disappointment could have stemmed from the lack of sleep. I hadn’t been ableto fall asleep until close to three.
I blamed my weekend hours. Thursdaythrough Sunday I stayed up until ungodly hours and by the time I got home,showered and decompressed it was always after four before I finally closed myeyes.
The important thing to note was thatthis had nothing to do with the lame ass text I’d sent to Killian the nightbefore.
Despite my sleepless night, I stilldragged myself from bed early enough to get to the Morning Market by the opening.I’d had to Google it for the exact address and found pictures of what toexpect. Killian had definite rights to my first born. This market waseverything I was looking for.
The market sat nestled in the cornerof an industrial area, neighbored by a tool and die designer on one side and alighting palace on the other. It spread out in an abandoned parking lot,covered by mix-matched tents and just as diverse vendors.
In one section, fragrant flowers inevery color burst from buckets with hand drawn price tags hanging off them. Inanother, eggs and farm-fresh milk in coolers spread out between artisan cheesesand all manner of jerkies.
But the majority of the market?Fresh produce. Fresh produce everywhere. Fruits, vegetables. More fruits. Morevegetables.
It was glorious.
And Killian hadn’t lied about thekolachestand. I stopped there first, picking up an egg andspicy bacon pastry and a cup of hazelnut coffee with the perfect amount ofcreamer.
My weird mood faded in light of thepossibilities in front of me. And the coffee.
The coffee definitely helped.
I’d just stepped up to a pepper standwith bins of every single pepper I could think of. Colored bells, spicyhabaneros,shishitosand jalapenos, and my favorite—hatch.Plus so many more. The vendor even had hybrids he’d been breeding himself.
My eyes got a little misty, but Iblamed it on the pollen in the air.
“Let me guess…” I nearly dropped mycoffee when Killian stepped up next to me. “Anchos.You’re all about theanchos.”
Embarrassment for my awkward textfrom the night before burst to life inside me, flushing my cheeks a nice, dark,strawberry red. But at the same time, the achy feeling in my chest faded. Istopped feeling mildly queasy. I stopped hating myself for not going out thenight before. I stopped missing Killian and hating myself for being such acoward. Most of all, I stopped analyzing every single thing I did, said orthought.
He was here! And I was determinednot to be a giant weirdo.
“Really? We’ve been friends forthree weeks now, and you pickanchos? Do you not knowme at all?”
We turned to face each other. His expressionremained cautious, thoughtful. I didn’t know if it was part of our game or ifhe had taken my blow-off text to heart. “Three weeks? We’ve been friends longerthan that.”
I hid my smile behind a drink ofcoffee. “No, I’ve been friends with James Q for longer than that. You’ve only justrecently decided to be nice.”
He gave me the side eye. “James Qwas kind of an asshole.I’vebeennice to you for at least three months.” His hand moved up to tug at the side ofhis beard. His other hand held a cup of coffee just like mine. Except withoutcreamer. Because apparently, he hated himself.
