I don’t like the way things were left the last time. Because of the possible bruise sighting, the note, the note in the trash, and how busy the shop was, I completely forgot to tell her I was leaving for vacation. Now I’m wondering what she made of my absence. I don’t want her to think I stayed away on purpose.
After a grueling workout when I sweat out what feels like twenty pounds of sugar, I’m showered and ready to get my caffeine fix. I haven’t had coffee in days.
I pull up to the shop and head inside. Thankfully, it’s not as busy as last time, which means I might actually get some quality time with my barista.
But the second I step inside, rage floods through me.
I’ve memorized every detail of Tessa’s beautiful face. She may have makeup covering it, but there’s no doubt in my mind—she’s hiding a black eye.
The heavy concealer is expertly applied, but I can still see the faint discoloration around her left eye. The slight puffiness beneath it. The way she’s angled herself so the light doesn’t hit that side of her face directly.
My hands curl into fists at my sides.
She’s behind the counter, talking to an older customer, her smile practiced and polite. But even from here, I can see the tension in her shoulders. The careful way she moves, like every motion costs her something.
I force myself to breathe. To unclench my jaw. To walk forward instead of turning around and hunting down whoever did this to her.
When she sees me, her smile falters for just a second before she forces it back into place.
“Hey,” she says, her voice a little too bright. “You’re back.”
“Yeah.” I step up to the counter, my eyes searching her face. “I’m back.”
“How was your trip?”
Her question throws me off because I don’t remember telling her I was going on a trip, but that doesn’t matter. “Fine.” I can’t take my eyes off her. Off the makeup that’s just slightly too thick on one side. “Tessa?—”
“Your usual?” she cuts in, already reaching for a cup.
“Tessa, what happened to your eye?”
She freezes. Just for a second. Then she laughs, but it sounds hollow. “What? Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“Logan—”
“What happened?”
She glances around, checking to see if anyone’s listening. The shop is mostly empty except for a couple in the corner wearing headphones. Still, she lowers her voice.
“I ran into a cabinet door,” she says. “It was stupid. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“A cabinet door.”
“Yeah.” She turns away, grabbing the honey. “It happens.”
“Tessa—”
“Can we not do this right now?” Her voice is sharper now, edged with something that sounds like fear. “Please.”
I want to push. I want to grab her hand and tell her I know she’s lying. I want to remind her that I can help her if she’d just let me.
But the look in her eyes stops me.
She’s terrified.
Not of me. Of something—or someone—else.
