“I don’t sell sandwiches.”
“You should.” She huffs and almost shoves my hand back across the counter.
Okay, I’m guessing she’s upset.
“Kiki’s is right across the street.” I’m so lost in our back and forth that I forget what we’re even talking about. “What does mustard have to do with this?” I hold up my stinging left hand.
“The acidity counteracts the burn,” she explains.
“That’s actually a myth,” Casey interjects. “I think it’s bad to do that.”
Raegan and I look at them with mild shock. The fact this kid said more than three words is probably bigger news than what happened with Patrick, but I shake it off quickly.
I motion for Raegan to follow me to the stockroom, leaving Casey alone with a line of nosey patrons, their face mirroring that of an abandoned puppy.
Raegan and I enter my office to the right of the storage area and close the door. It’s a cramped space, no bigger than the size of a walk-in closet, so when we sit down our knees are wedged between one another. I pull a first aid kit from the bottom drawer of my desk and open it. There’s a box of bandaids, anexpired tube of ointment, and a roll of gauze with about five inches of material left on the roll. I look at the scant supplies, wondering just how much Raegan is judging me right now. I don’t ever remember using this kit let alone using everything in it.Did I even buy this, or was it here before I bought the shop? How old is that ointment?
“I think mustard is probably safer than this shit,” Raegan grumbles, inspecting the crusted tube and prying the top off. Guess she agrees with me. She curls her lip at the sight of the dark brown and unknown substance in the tube then chucks it in the trash.
“I guess we’re even now.”
Raegan doesn’t say anything as she starts digging in her bag. She pulls out a rather large pouch and unzips it to reveal a treasure trove of emergency supplies. I lean closer and see she’s got a pair of tweezers, a pack of tissues, mints, nausea medicine, a single period pad, a travel-size bottle of lotion and…aloe?
I fall back against my swivel chair and smile. “You seriously carry aloe around everywhere?” I tease, hoping for some sort of response this time.
“It’s for sunburns,” she says, tone clipped. “But it also comes in handy for coffee burns.” Her smirk is cute as hell, but I’d rather be looking at a full smile. Those are as bright as the sun, and I could stare straight into it all day.
She squeezes a dot of the green goop onto my reddened skin and the cooling sensation instantly soothes the burn. “And yes,” she adds, twisting the top back on the bottle. “I guess this makes us even.”
I glance at the little pink line on her left forearm that will probably be a scar. “This wasn’t your fault though,” I tell her, gesturing to the burn she’s now wrapping with the last of the gauze. “I did this to myself.”
Her brow furrows. “It’s not like you did it on purpose. Either time,” she offers. “Besides, now you know you need to restock your first aid kit.”
She takes in the messy shelves and cluttered papers across my desk. I don’t spend much time here, mostly because there’s no vent in this room so it gets too damn hot, but the times I do I just drop whatever I’m working on wherever there’s space.
For a moment, I think I see tears brimming in her eyes, but she quickly blinks and by the time our eyes meet again she’s tucked her lower lip beneath her teeth and changed her expression. “I came to make sure you were okay after what happened, but apparently you’re self-harming.”
I know it’s an attempt at dark humor, but I see the genuine concern lingering in her eyes.
“I’m fine,” I promise, though it’s a big fat lie.
How I feel right now shouldn’t matter. I’m the one who should be checking in on her, but I’m weak.
“You’ve been a bit on edge lately.” She fidgets with her hands, wringing them together like I’ve seen her do a thousand times when something is on her mind. After a quick internet search, I learned it’s a method of self-soothing, something she does when her anxiety is rearing its ugly head. “I know this thing with Patrick has been a lot, and I’m so sorry I’ve dragged you into it—”
“You didn’t drag me into anything.” I place my hand over hers and she stops fidgeting. “None of this is your fault. That guy hid his ugliness so he could reel you in. You couldn’t have known.”
I need her to know there’s no reason for her to carry this burden.
She sighs and tells me what I want to hear. “Yeah I know.” Unfortunately, I don’t think I believe her anymore than she does. “So you’re not mad?”
Her question stuns me. “Why would I be mad?”
She hangs her head. “I know you’re angry because of what Patrick did, but why did you avoid me?”
I inhale sharply and feel my heart plummet to my core. The hurt look on Raegan’s face has me seconds away from spilling my guts right here and now. But what can I do?
I can’t tell her why I really walked away, so I say the closest thing I can to the truth.
