“Thank you for telling me,” I said quietly.
“For what it’s worth,” she added, her voice softer now, “I never really thought you did it. Once I had time to think about it, anyway. You’re too...” she gestured vaguely at me, “fancyfor theft. You’d probably hire someone to steal for you.”
Despite everything, I felt a laugh bubble up. “That’s possibly the weirdest compliment I’ve ever received.”
She smiled, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. “I’m serious though, Xavier. I’m real sorry. And I told Marcus the same thing this mornin’ when I found the keys. Told him he needed to make this right with you.”
My stomach flipped at the mention of Marcus. “What did he say?”
“Not much,” Dolly admitted. “But he looked about as miserable as a man can look. Been workin’ himself half to death trying to catch whoever’s really behind these thefts.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Part of me wanted to know more, wanted to ask if Marcus had said anything about me specifically. But the other part… the part that was still hurt and angry, didn’t want to care.
“Anyway,” Dolly said, clearly sensing my reluctance to discuss Marcus further, “what can I get you boys to eat?”
I glanced back at Lucas and Beau, who were already settled in the booth, pretending not to watch our conversation even though I knew they’d heard every word.
“I’ll have whatever they’re having,” I said, sliding onto a bar stool. “And maybe one of those strawberry milkshakes you make.”
Dolly’s face brightened. “Comin’ right up, sugar.”
As she bustled away to place our orders, I felt some of the tension drain from my shoulders. The other patrons had mostly gone back to their own conversations, the initial curiosity about my appearance apparently satisfied. Maybe this wouldn’t be as awful as I’d anticipated.
I pulled out my phone for the first time in days, ignoring the flutter of anxiety in my chest as the screen lit up. Seventeen unread messages. I scrolled through them quickly, my heart doing that annoying thing where it both hoped for and dreaded seeing Marcus’s name.
Most were from vendors confirming details. A few from Lucas that I’d already addressed via email. And then, buried among the professional messages, were five from Marcus.
My finger hovered over his name. I shouldn’t read them. Reading them would only make this harder, would only remind me of how good things had been before he’d decided I was a criminal.
But I’d never been good at doing what I should do.
I tapped on his name, and the messages loaded.
Marcus: I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough but I need you to know I’m sorry.
Marcus: Lucas told me what an idiot I am. He’s right.
Marcus: Dolly found her keys. You did return them. I should have trusted you.
Marcus: I don’t expect you to forgive me but I need you to know that this is on me, not you. You didn’t do anything wrong.
Marcus: I miss you.
The last three messages had been sent just this morning, but the last one caught my attention the most. I stared at those three words until they blurred.I miss you. Such simple words, but they hit me right in the chest, making it hard to breathe.
I locked my phone and shoved it back in my pocket, refusing to let myself respond. He’d hurt me. He’d believed the worstabout me at the first opportunity. That wasn’t something that could be fixed with a few apologetic text messages.
Even if part of me desperately wanted to believe it could be.
“Here you go,” Dolly said, setting the milkshake in front of me. The glass was frosted, topped with whipped cream and a cherry. “Food’ll be up in a few minutes.”
“Thanks,” I managed, wrapping my hands around the cold glass, grateful for something to focus on that wasn’t my phone or the swirling mess of emotions in my chest.
Lucas slid into the seat beside me at the bar, leaving Beau in the booth. “You okay?” he asked quietly.
“Define okay,” I muttered, taking a long sip of the milkshake. The sweetness hit my tongue, and I had to admit it was exactly what I needed.
“Did you read his messages?”
