Because if you keep helping others instead of yourself, there will be nothing left to help, Stella’s voice echoes through my head, her decade long teachings, still not taking root in my mind.
“Just helping out a bit.” My smile is small and faint, those poor muscles not able to keep up the pretense any longer.
Apart from the usual worries, I now enjoy a streak of restless nights because every time I close my eyes I see his, and my heart starts beating wildly as if trying to escape me.
I have this nagging thought that it means something, that maybe I did know Severin in some other life. But then I realize how crazy my idea sounds. However, it still doesn’t help the situation.
Mr. Ross looks around, his brows furrowing further and further with every second. “Where the heck is Sierra? Isn’t she closing tonight?” he asks, but I stay silent. “She left again, didn’t she?” He doesn’t sound pleased at all, but I’m not going to be the one to add fuel to the fire.
Stay in the shadows, blend in with the walls is always more my thing. It’s easier that way. But I swear, if anyone would take a peek inside my head and see all the devious ways I’m killing them with my thoughts, they’d never believe it.
However, no one is ever interested in the real version, preferring the sweet, kind me to the bitch I could be. In my thoughts only. It’s safer this way and safety trumps everything in my books, especially when I grew up without it.
Heck, I still don’t have it. No, my problems just seem to multiply out of thin air.
Mr. Ross sighs, pulling me from my thoughts and says, “Honey, you shouldn’t have stayed past your shift. Go home.”
I’m shaking my head before he can finish the sentence.
“No, it’s okay. It’s still too busy for you to do it all alone.”
“Aurora.” His voice grows sterner when I don’t make a move away from the table I was cleaning. “I’m not some fragile baby chick,” Mr. Ross huffs. “I can take care of my own damn bar.”
“I’m sure you could. But it’ll go much faster if I help you, and you need to get home to Mary.” Mary is Mr. Ross’s wife who’s caught a nasty flu bug. “In fact, you should leave to see her now.”
“I’ll just call Liam to come down and help.”
“Nope, you won’t. He’s on vacation, remember?”
Mr. Ross curses under his breath, and at that exact time a group of five walks into an already crowded bar.
I turn to my boss. “It’s okay, I got this tonight.”
He sighs with resignation. “Every time I think angels aren’t real, I remember you and think better of it.”
I laugh at his dry tone. “I promise, I’m no angel. Stella is home with Emett and Dad so they’re all good there, and I don’t mind closing tonight.” They’re all used to my hectic schedules.
Do I want to? No. But a small part of me is a little elated about it because I desperately need a few extra dollars.
Just yesterday Stella announced she’s found this special hockey program for kids and wants me to take Emett. It’s in Boston, and if I’ll be gone for a few days I need to save up to cover those working days.
“I will be hiring someone competent tomorrow to help you,” Mr. Ross grumbles, his face morphing into that unhappy grimace he had on earlier when he saw Sierra had gone, and with another parting wave he shuffles out the door.
I’m so busy, so engrossed in my work, I miss every warning the storm outside slams against the windows or the front door.I miss the thunder and lightning as it slices the sky open right before my eyes.
And I realize a little too late that I’ve been humming that same warning tune. Both chilling and ominous.
The one I heard five years ago…when it’s too late.
Again.
PART II
THUNDER
15
500 in product
