Only then did I look down.
Blood stained my shirt.
He had managed to slash my stomach in the chaos. It was going to leave a scar.
The cut wasn’t deep, but it was bleeding freely, warmth spreading across my skin in contrast to the chill settling into my limbs.
After the police arrived, after I pressed charges, answered questions, and reassured Linda again and again that she was safe, I returned to my office. The adrenaline had drained away by then, leaving me shaky and hollow.
As I threw away the blood-soaked bandages, my hands began to tremble. I gripped the edge of my desk and focused on slowing my breathing. The weight of what had happened settled into my chest. My heart raced, my fingers tingled, and memories surfaced uninvited.
This hadn’t been the first time I’d stepped into danger for someone else.
I thought back to the diner.
Lucija—pretty, blonde, Croatian—had stormed into the kitchen one afternoon, furious and shaken. Two male customers had been relentless, crude, crossing every boundary. When one of them pinched her as she served their food, she had screamed.
Don’t get involved. Keep your head down. Walk away.That’s what I told myself. Right up until I heard him say, “I think you’re pretty, and I know you liked it. Want me to do it again?”
I hadn’t thought twice.
I remembered walking to their table, my voice deceptively calm. “Is everything okay here, boys?”
They had looked me up and down like I was nothing but flesh and laughed.
“So you saw what happened?” one of them sneered, making a pinching motion. “Want some too?”
I had twisted his hand back, arched it toward his shoulder blade, and smashed his head down onto the table. “Would I like some of what, Mr. Fingers?” I’d asked through clenched teeth. “If I were you, I’d use them the way you’re supposed to—holding a fork and spoon and eating your damn lunch.”
He had screamed for the manager. Everyone had stared, and I had fled to the bathroom.
Remembering it now, a small, satisfied smile curved my lips.
I had been proud of myself then.
I was proud of myself now.
And yet, standing alone in my office, replaying Caleb’s words and the look in his eyes when he’d spoken them, I couldn’t ignore the truth settling uncomfortably into place.
Maybe my instincts had protected me for a long time. But maybe—just this once—they had also been wrong.
And the realization that I might have misjudged Caleb remained with me, heavy and unresolved, long after the room had gone quiet.
18
CALEB
The next day, I met Nyah directly in the marketing office, where Elizabeth, Priya, and Will were already gathered. The room buzzed with a quiet kind of energy.
Elizabeth and Will immediately lit up as we walked them through the loyalty card concept. Their enthusiasm was contagious, the kind that made an idea feel tangible instead of theoretical. I delegated the task of naming the card to them, trusting their creativity without hesitation, and the approval in their expressions gave me a small jolt of pride. They talked through the website updates next, clearly pleased with how much more streamlined and user-friendly everything had become. Watching people respond positively to something I’d helped shape was still unfamiliar territory for me—and strangely addictive.
I turned to Priya and explained the operational changes her team would need to implement during holidays and special occasions, outlining how the partnerships with third-party websites would drive revenue during peak periods. She nodded thoughtfully, already thinking several steps ahead.
Nyah stood beside me, attentive, composed, her presence steadying in a way I hadn’t come to rely on from anyone. Wanting—needing—to make things better between Nyah and me, I suggested wegrab lunch together in the staff cafeteria. The offer felt small but loaded, like an olive branch I wasn’t sure she’d accept. She did, though, and that gave me hope.
That hope didn’t last long.
The cafeteria was crowded, and the silence between us stretched thin and awkward. I could feel eyes on us—curious, speculative—and it only seemed to heighten the tension. She barely touched her food before claiming she wasn’t hungry and heading back to her office early. I heard her stomach betray her on the way out, a quiet rumble she pretended not to notice. I let her go, telling myself to give her space, even though the distance felt undeserved.
