He hesitates. “I know you believe that. But it’s okay if you’re not. You know that, right?”
I narrow my eyes at him. He doesn’t walk away immediately, like he’s giving me a chance to say something if I want to.
“I’m just saying, I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine.”
“Mm-hmm.”
His concern lands softer than when Declan or Piper asks me if I’m okay. I don’t understand it. I don’t want to.Why does he care?
The rest of my shift is a blur of too-loud conversations, too-hot stagnant air, and too many moments where my brain checks out before my body catches up. I can feel Fletcher’s eyes on me off and on all night, but I don’t give him the courtesy of returning the stare.
I can’t let him see my weakness.
I can’t letanyonesee it.
By the end of my shift, I’mdragging. Not physically—though yeah, that’s part of it—but mentally. It’s bone-deep. The kind of exhaustion that makes the world feel grainy at the edges.
River takes my place to close out the night, and my legs protest the second I leave the building. It’s not the pins and needles this time, but a heavy weight from not enough sleep and too much work. Every step toward the car is one I have to will into existence.
I slide into the driver’s seat with a huff. I could fall asleep right here. Dropping my head back against the headrest, I close my eyes. Just five minutes, then. That’s all I need. Five minutes and I’ll be on my way.
I jolt upright when something taps hard against my window. My whole body goes tense before I register who it is, his solidframe silhouetted by the streetlamp. The long beard is a dead giveaway.
Fletcher waves weakly before shoving his hands into his jean jacket, seeming strangely unsure of himself. The guy is always confident and collected.
I crack the door, unable to roll the window down without starting the car. “Something wrong?”
“I was going to ask you that,” he says calmly, gesturing to the hood of my car. “Saw you sitting here. Everything okay with the car?”
I blink, brain scrambling for an excuse why I’m sitting like a lame duck in the middle of the parking lot. “Yeah, it’s… uh, acting up. Battery, maybe.” I hope Fletcher can’t see the lie in the dark.
His brow creases. “Want me to look? I’ve got jumper cables in my truck.”
“No,” I snap, then force myself to calm down. “No, it’s fine. I’ll call someone if I need to.”
Fletcher tilts his head, unconvinced. “You sure? I’m right here, and I don’t mind.”
My chest tightens. Of course he’d insist on helping. The man is nothing but kindness and goodness wrapped in a beautiful package.
And now I’m boxed in by my lie.
“I don’t want to be a pain.”
“Vince.” His voice softens. “Seriously. It’s no trouble, man. Pop the hood.”
The gentleness in his voice cuts right through me, like he knows I’m near my breaking point. It’s a miracle he’s even trying again, after how many times I’ve pushed him away.
But I don’t have it in me to resist anymore.
I let out a resigned sigh. “It’s not the car. I’m just… too damn tired to drive.”
He studies me carefully. “I get that. I’ve been there.” Fletcher shrugs like it’s a common thing. “Can I give you a ride then? I’ll bring you back tomorrow, no problem.”
The offer lingers between us, and despite knowing I shouldn’t accept, despite the shame and embarrassment it’s going to cost me, I’m unable to say no.
“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”
