Standing on my toes to reach it, I tug it with more force than necessary and pull out the paper, surprised to find that it’s a poem. Nash’s handwriting is messy and not that easy to read.
Words are my thing, you know, my heart laid bare,
With words I should have spoken, the weight I couldn’t bear,
I’m sorry for the times I faltered and fell short,
For not standing up for you, for not holding your fort.
I should have acted, been your shield, your guide,
But fear held me back, and my feelings I tried to hide,
I should have stepped up, been the one to defend,
But I failed you then, my courage at its end.
There’s more, but I lower the paper, my energy drained and a sense of bewilderment clouding my thoughts as I turn my gaze to Saylor. “A poem?”
The words are a bit cringy, but it’s clear that he put some effort into it.
Saylor chuckles softly. “I know he’s not Shakespeare, but that’s Nash’s way of expressing himself. He’s never written a poem for anyone before or even showed them to anyone. He has stage fright, so even if it’s shit, you should feel honored.”
I’m looking back down at the paper when I turn to walk up to the side door of the van, almost tripping over a Tupperware container.
I crouch to find it full of what looks like chocolate chip cookies.
“Ooh, they are so good. Hunter makes the best cookies.” Saylor smiles before it falls from his face again. “Fuck, I miss food.”
Rolling my eyes at the absurdity of it all, I groan, “I can’t deal with them. Why are they suddenly everywhere?”
They were justtherebefore, and now they are everywhere I turn. Literally.
Saylor pulls me from the turmoil brewing within when he says, “You mean more to them than you realize.”
TEN
My heart racesas I rush into the dimly lit restaurant and hastily pull my hair into a high ponytail.
Saylor tries to keep up, reassuring me, “Slow down, Boo, there are no customers. You’re fine.”
Tally is waiting for me, her expression concerned. I start apologizing before I even reach her, my guilt weighing me down. “I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice tinged with regret. “I overslept. I didn’t sleep a wink last night again, and it seems I napped too hard just now. Please, just come knocking on the van next time.”
“Sloan,” Tally starts, her tone reproachful, trying to hush me.
I raise an eyebrow, puzzled by her urgency. “What?”
Tally points discreetly to a table in the corner, and dread washes over me as I see North sitting there, a glass of water in front of him. Saylor curses under his breath.
“What is he doing here? Did you lift the ban?” I ask Tally in a hushed whisper.
“Of course, I didn’t,” she whispers as if hurt I would think that of her. “I told him to leavetwice. But he wouldn’t budge. Told me he needs to talk to you first. Now, I would send Mac after him to kick him out, but he’s still Tim’s boss.” She looks apologetic.
I sigh, realizing I’ve no choice but to deal with this. “No, I get it, girl. It’s fine. Thank you. I’m gonna make him leave.”
“Are you sure?” Tally asks, furrowing her brows. “We could just ignore him.”
I shake my head. “No, it would be worse having him sit here for hours than to tell him to leave.”
