He towers above me, his unique scent of cedar and salt surrounding me.
“What are you doing here, Flint?” I demand, hugging my arms around myself, feeling small under his intense gaze.
“Checking the extinguishers,” he deadpans.
“Right. Because they were all at risk of bursting into flames overnight. Or maybe that’s just me.”
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up. I just needed to make sure you were okay.”
“Well, surprise. I survived your rejection. Again.” I tilt my chin up. “No need to rescue me from another dancefloor or arrest me for drinking underage. I’m sober.”
His gaze darkens. “You think that’s what this is?”
“I think you don’t know what this is,” I fire back. “You keep saying sorry, but you keep giving me mixed signals.”
The silence between us is so thick I swear I can hear the ocean through the walls.
Finally, he exhales. “I care about you.”
“But not enough.” I fold my arms over my chest and tap my foot, hoping I can leave soon before he sees the small, vulnerable girl who’s so desperate to be loved.
“Damn it, Sera, it has to be this way,” he whisper yells, but I think the whole restaurant heard the rumble in his chest.
He turns, strides towards the door, and leaves without another word.
Heat floods my cheeks as I absently stroll back behind the counter.
Tammany stares at me in confusion. “So, did he check your fire safety, or what?”
I grab the nearest towel and throw it at her. “If you value your life, you’ll shut up and make the damn coffee.”
Tammany laughs, but I can’t.
My hands tremble as I wipe the counter, the rag going in slow circles over the same spot until it squeaks.
He came here to check on me—and walked away again.
Story of my life. People show up just long enough to remind me what I can’t have.
Chapter Eight
FLINT
“Mason, I’m not a bank. What the hell do you need the money for?” I sigh down the phone while rubbing my temple.
“Sorry, Dad. I’ll get a job. You have my word. I just need a couple hundred to tide me over.”
“A couple hundred?” I roll my eyes. “What happened to the last lot I sent you?”
“Stuff’s expensive here.”
“Stuff as in beer? You know you’re underage?”
“Jeez, Dad. Anyone would think you never had any fun when you were a teenager.”
“I didn’t. Try dating your mother at eighteen.” I chuckle to myself, remembering how Lauren used to annoy the hell out of me. Always moaning about me hanging with my buddies instead of her. In the end, she was the one who ran off with someone else. Maybe I wasn’t a very good husband, or maybe we were never right for each other.
“Yeah, fair enough.” Mason laughs down the phone as if agreeing with me.
