I forced myself to relax or at least look like it. I nursed my beer and watched Liz work. Every time she passed within speaking distance, it took all my effort to stay put.
She delivered plates to a table near the bar, close enough that I could have easily said her name. My mouth opened slightly, the word ready to escape.
I clamped it shut.
For a fraction of a second, her gaze flicked toward me. She didn’t seem surprised. She didn’t even look curious about why I was there. She just seemed aware.
Then it slid away just as quickly, as if I wasn’t there at all. Her focus returned entirely to her customers. Professional. Competent. Completely unaware of the internal war I was fighting.
The bond thrummed between us, an invisible line connecting my chest to hers. My dragon clawed at my ribs, frustrated by my continued inaction. Every instinct I possessed screamed at me to touch her shoulder, to make her look at me and see that I was sorry.
Instead, I took another drink and stayed where I was.
I could respect her boundaries even when every cell in my body rebelled against it. Well, at least somewhat.
Liz returned to the kitchen, disappearing through the swinging door.
“You’re doing the right thing.” Beck reappeared, wiping down the bar near me. “Even if it doesn’t feel like it.”
“How do you know what I’m doing?”
“Because you’ve had the same beer for forty minutes, and you look like you’re fighting yourself.” He tossed the towel over his shoulder. “She needs time. You’re giving it to her. That’s the right call.”
I wanted to argue and insist that time wasn’t enough, and I needed to fix what I’d broken. But Beck was right, damn him.
Liz emerged from the kitchen with another tray loaded with appetizers and delivered them to the people sitting next to me at the bar. She was actively ignoring me, and that stung worse than I expected.
This was torture. Pure, exquisite torture.
Time stretched out. The restaurant’s noise faded to background static. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart, the restless growl of my dragon, and the quiet voice in my head reminding me that if I approached her now, she’d flee.
I finished my drink, paid my tab, and headed for the door.
I caught her scent when she passed by, and my feet stopped moving. My mouth nearly betrayed me. Every muscle tensed with the need to turn around and finally say her name.
I somehow got myself outside and took a deep breath. My hands shook slightly as I fished my keys out of my pocket.
This felt less like patience and more like walking away from something I already knew I couldn’t afford to lose. But maybe that’s what love looked like sometimes. Choosing her comfort over mine. Her needs over my wants. Her boundaries over my instincts.
I climbed into my truck and started the engine, but I didn’t drive away immediately. Instead, I sat there in the parking lot, feeling the pull of the bond stretch and strain as I prepared to leave.
Tomorrow, I’d find another way. Tonight, I’d have to live with the ache.
Chapter 13
Liz
It had been about a week since Beck hired me. Seven days of learning the menu, memorizing drink orders, and pretending my feet didn’t scream every time I crossed the cement floors. The tips were good, the work straightforward, and I’d managed to keep my interactions professional despite some customers testing my patience.
What I hadn’t managed was to stop the gifts.
One morning, I’d found a package of wool socks on my trailer steps. The next day, a rechargeable flashlight appeared. Then a first aid kit. A box of protein bars. A fleece blanket. Each item was new and completely anonymous.
Except I knew exactly who was leaving them.
I’d considered leaving a note telling him to stop. Instead, I used the flashlight one night while taking my trash to the dumpster, and I wore the socks to work. The blanket lived on my couch now, soft and exactly the right weight.
I hated that I noticed.
