Brinley keeps working. I know she hasn’t been working here long, but she’s already good at this. She slips into conversations easily while pouring drinks, laughing when it’s appropriate.
If I didn’t know her, I might not notice that anything is bothering her at all.
I do know her, though.
I’ve watched her enough to recognize the way she avoids my eyes. The way her smile fades faster than usual. The way she presses her lips together when she thinks no one is looking, like she’s trying to hold something back.
Or keep all her emotions in check.
Every instinct in me wants to ask her what’s wrong.What happened? Did he hurt you?
I don’t, though.
Because I can tell she’s not ready to talk about whatever sent her running out of his office earlier. And pushing her now would only make her retreat further.
So I wait for her.
Minutes turn into an hour, and then more.
At one point, she pauses near me to wipe down the bar. “You plannin’ on setting up camp here for my entire shift?” she asks lightly.
I flick my gaze between my empty glass and her face. “Is that a problem?”
Her lips curve into a smirk. It’s real this time. “Depends on how annoying you get.”
I tap the bar. “Oh, I can be very annoying.”
“I don’t doubt you can.”
There it is. The thread connecting us, even when everything else feels frayed.
I lower my voice now. “I can leave if that’s what you want.”
She stops wiping for a second but doesn’t look up at me.
“No,” she says quietly. “You’re fine.”
So I stay right where I am.
The bar starts to fill up, and the noise swells. Orders stack up, and a steady stream of people enters the bar throughout the night. She’s moving quicker now, falling into rhythm. I stay put, even when my shoulder starts to ache again.
When last call comes and the crowd begins to thin, she finally turns to glance down the bar at me.
“You didn’t leave,” she says.
“What can I say? I’m stubborn sometimes.”
She studies me, and something flickers in her gaze. Gratitude? Surprise? Maybe a bit of both.
Sasha heads to the front to talk to one of the bouncers and lock the doors. Brinley unties her apron and folds it once.
It’s just her, and I can tell she’s disappearing somewhere in her mind.
“Hey,” I say softly.
She straightens immediately and turns toward me, like she’s been caught doing something wrong. “Hey.”
“You okay?” I ask.
