“You what?” Angela looked at me wide-eyed while she puffed her vape pen on our fifteen-minute break.
I chuckled at her reaction. “I moved into Ethan’s garage. It’s not a big deal.”
Angela raised one eyebrow. “Girl, it’s a huge deal. You guys are totally going to hook up. I give it a week.”
I picked at my nail polish and had the fleeting thought that three weeks ago in L.A. was probably the last manicure I’d be getting for a while.
“I’m not exactly emotionally available right now,” I told my only friend in the world.
Angela shrugged. “I’m not saying to date him, just fuck him. For me.”
I gasped and we both burst out laughing, but then my mood turned more somber. “I’m not interested in that either. I’m still trying to move on from my divorce.”
Angela took another puff. “Alright, girl, all I’m saying is when you’re ready to move on, move on with him. Ethan’s the kind of guy who makes you forget your problems.”
I chuckled, a genuine laugh. I hadn’t laughed in so long the sound actually startled me. “Why don’t you sleep with him?”
She gave me a knowing look. “Because he didn’t pay a thousand dollars to have a drink with me, now did he?”
Silence descended on our work break.
“Besides, I’ve got my eye on his boy Cody. You know I don’t mess with white boys.”
Another laugh. It was getting easier and easier. “Yeah, even in middle school you liked 'em brown.”
She nodded and we were quiet another minute. “I can’t believe I got married at eighteen.” I put my face in my hands. Sometimes the realization of my stupid life choices just hit me out of nowhere.
Angela reached out and brushed my shoulder. “I can’t believe I got a two-year-old kid at home and a tattoo of my baby daddy’s name on my ass. We all make mistakes.”
My grin grew wider. She was a good friend, and a decent human. I could ask for no better.
Mickey popped his head out the back door. “Break’s over, dolls. Hailey, you got some preppy dude sitting in your section. Asking for you.”
Everything in my body went numb in that moment.
Preppy dude.
Bryce wouldn’t have come here … would he? How would he have found me? I’d been working here all of two freaking days.
Private investigator? Credit card I’d used at Wal-Mart to get cash back to pay for the hostel? Did he know about my secret card?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“You okay, girl?” Angela stood and was staring down at me with concern.
I didn’t want to bring my drama into my new job. Angela was a new friend, sort of, and I didn’t want to hurt our budding friendship.
“Just tired,” I lied.
Standing, I brushed my hands on my jeans.
It couldnotbe Bryce. There could be some other random preppy dude at a biker bar in South Phoenix who was asking for me…
Denial was a nice place to live.
I followed Angela inside, all the while putting up the walls that kept me safe, that helped me to not absorb the blackness that was his soul. When we rounded the bar, I flicked my eyes to the two tables I’d been assigned tonight. At one was my group of four young crotch-rocket bikers who’d been playfully hitting on me all night. They’d racked up a couple-hundred-dollar bar tab and I was hoping for a good tip. At the other, Bryce Conner, in the fucking flesh.
We were divorced. I’d served his ass and he’d signed under the presence of my lawyer. The papers were filed, and although it would take a few months for a judge to finalize, I was no longer his. He couldn’t hurt me anymore. I’d gone with the fast-track divorce so he couldn’t manipulate me into staying. I’d signed an iron-clad prenup and stated in my papers I wanted nothing of his. I’d been hoping I could keep my clothes and phone, but screw it. In the end, I gave it all up not to ever have to see that face again.
