What is he trying to tell me?
I take a picture of the page, and for a second, I imagine sending it to Miles, but the motivation is gone before it even takes root. If I shared it, I’d have to explain what it is, and I don’t have the energy for that. I just don’t.
Suddenly, the cloak of darkness becomes too much. I can feel it, pressing down on me. Choking me.
I don’t think it’ll let up until I know.
The kitchen at Graham’s is quiet when I get there, the metal prep tables cool under my hands as I start sorting the deliveries. Yesterday had been too busy to put some of this away, which is fine. Gives me something to do now.
I toss the lettuce and tomatoes into their crates in the cooler, then add the limes and lemons to the hanging basket above the counter. The work is mechanical. Repetitive. Usually that helps to keep me grounded. But not today.
Today, Charlie’s presence lingers like an annoying gnat I can’t bat away. Why bother me if he isn’t going to tell me what he wants?
The door opens behind me with a burst of conversation. Declan’s voice fills the room, as loud as ever. Seth follows him in, saying something that makes Declan laugh. He shakes his head, nudging Seth.
“Go get it done, dumbass.”
Seth starts to step away, but Declan changes his mind and pulls him in for a chaste kiss. The two men smile, then Seth disappears through the swinging doors.
It slices me open, and not for the first time.
Declan used to come into work quietly, worn down from long nights he wouldn’t talk about. We used to dance around each other in near silence as we prepped, and now his energy seems to fill the room. It’s like someone reached in and turned his volume back up. That someone being Seth. Love looks good on him; I won’t deny it. But can’t I get a single day without being smothered in it?
I turn back to my station, gritting my teeth so I don’t say something stupid. Declan doesn’t deserve my wrath.
Thankfully, he slips through the other door to head to the office, leaving me to finish the prep work alone.
I grip the table, the darkness pulsing, and a thought hits me out of nowhere:What if that could be me?
What if meeting Miles could be what changes something in me, like Seth changed Declan? I already know he’s helping me, but what if his physical presence helps more? If touching him, holding him, being able to make love to his body instead of through a screen is what pulls me out of my personal hell?
I want it. I know I do. But the thought ofdoingit? Of going to see him? I can’t. It makes me panic.
The terrible part is I know Declan would give me the time off if I asked. I haven’t taken a day off since I started here, and I’ve clocked more hours than any other employee—including him sometimes. And we have a full staff too, so it’s not like I’d be leaving them out to dry.
So why does it make my heart race to think about going?
I dice some vegetables, tossing them into a bowl for fresh salsa. The earthy scent is soothing.
Maybe it’s notgoingbutleavingthat has me spinning. If I left San Diego, it would mean I’m leaving my safe place, even if I took my motorhome. It would be like stepping off a cliff without a parachute. San Diego has been my home and my sanctuary for over a decade. It’s kept me grounded when all I’ve known is drifting, so to leave that? It’s a big risk.
Which makes me ask… did I ever really want to? Or did I buy the motorhome in some vain attempt to copy Graham’s impressive life?
The guy was my idol, in a way. How he’d crawled out of his family’s abandonment and made his life his own. How he’d found purpose in his travels, found life. Even found love. None as true as when he found Declan, but still.
Was I grasping at straws trying to give my life meaning like he did?
I mix two batches of dough for tomorrow’s loaves, while cutting and kneading today’s. It helps the time pass. I think of all the places I wanted to visit, the plans I had before Graham died.They still appeal to me, but the purpose is lacking. There’s no reason to go anymore.
I have an actual reason to leave now, but it still makes me uncomfortable. I fist my hands against the cool steel table. Why? Why can’t I go?
Outside, the screech of a drill and something metal fills the air. When I poke my head out, I see Seth installing the new footrest along the front of the bar. Ah. That explains why he’s here. Declan needs to put Seth on the payroll, for all the extra work he does here.
“Hey.” Piper’s voice breaks in as she steps in through the front door, white sunglasses perched on her head.
Without replying, I slip back into the kitchen, hoping she’ll take the hint.Do not disturb.
She doesn’t.
