He didn’t look convinced.
“Yeah, I’m fine. He was just trying to intimidate me.”
“He put his fucking hands on you.”
Was I flattered? Okay, I was flattered.
“Well, technically just one hand…”
He wasn’t impressed with my joke. He leaned across the counter, resting his forearms on it as he made eye contact with me. I walked towards him, standing just across from him. He looked me up and down in a way that was almost like he was taking inventory: making sure all my body parts were attached and uninjured.
“I’m not scared of him,” I assured him.
Iwas,though, for both me and Jay.
“He won’t be a problem much longer. The minute he steps outside and I can find him, he’s dead.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but words fled me.
Halo ran a hand over his face, stepping back and taking a deep breath. I turned away to gather my own bearings while making his coffee. I put it in a to-go cup today, drawing a little heart on the outside with a Sharpie. I put it on the counter and then instinctively reached for the muffin… but it was gone. I stared at the empty place on the counter.
“What is it?” he asked.
“He took your muffin.”
“Mymuffin?”
“I save you one every day. Just in case,” I admitted.
He didn’t say anything right away, just stood there, looking at the empty place where the muffin had been, like its absence was a personal offense. I moved around the counter and leaned my hip against it, suddenly aware of how tense I had been.
“You haven’t been coming in lately,” I said, more softly than I intended.
“I saw the cop coming before you did. If I had been in here, there is a chance he would have recognized me. Maybe he would have turned around and walked out.”
“I had it under control.”
“He shouldn’t have touched you.”
I crossed my arms, masking the fact that I was squeezing myself for comfort. If I pressed hard enough, it almost felt like someone else’s arms.
His eyes softened, just a fraction. Barely anything, a glitch in his usual flat focus. “You hungry?”
I blinked. “What?”
“You didn’t eat lunch today,” he said. “I watched you.”
Of course he had. Heat crawled up my neck. Before I could come up with a lie, my stomach spoke for me, releasing a long, theatrical growl that echoed far too loudly in the empty café. I tried to fold my arms tighter, like I could shove the sound back inside.
“I can make something; it’s just been a busy day,” I said quickly. The words came out automatically, the way they did with customers.I can make something. I can fix this. I can handle it.
“No,” he said, “you’ve been on your feet all day.” He glanced at the clock. “You close in an hour?”
“Yeah?” It came out like a question, even though I knew my own schedule.
He nodded once, decided something I wasn’t privy to, and then… walked out. Just turned and left, bell over the door jingling like a laugh.
I stared at the empty doorway. “What the fuck,” I muttered. I threw my hands up at no one in particular, then dropped them and went back to my routine because that’s what you do when men disappear without explanation: you keep moving.
