I grab his wrist, turn it over, and move his hand to hang up the phone. “I don’t want someone with an admin diploma.”
“Tell me you want me.”
I tear my hand away. “What the fuck?’
He stands up straight, shoulders back, and cocks his head to the side. “Tell me I’m the only one you want for the job.”
My teeth are clamped so tight I can feel the blood pulsing at my temples.
If I wanted to smack him before, I want to punch his head in right now.
I hold his stare, refusing to blink first. If this is his way of trying to challenge for dominance then he’s about to learn I’m the motherfucking king of not backing down. But then his face shifts, he drops the bravado, and he’s a kid again. Not the man with the smart tongue and impossible jawline who’s been pushing my buttons for the past three days like no one ever has before, but he’s Eden’s scrawny little brother who was left behind. Left in the dark. Just as desperate as I am to not be alone but too shit scared to say it out loud.
Carey withdraws his hand. He closes his eyes for several seconds, and when he opens them again, his gaze doesn’t travel higher than my chest.
“If you say—” He stops and swallows like he needs to psych himself up. “I’ll do it for twenty if you say you want me to stay.”
“You can go.”
“Wait, what?” His head shoots in my direction as I walk away from the desk.
“You can go. Enjoy the weekend.”
“It’s… It’s half over. Where are you going?” His tone is desperate as he follows me.
“To make a coffee.”
“You should have something to eat.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Carey twitches, his face paling as I spin around. I step towards him and he shrinks back until he’s flush against the wall. “You’re not my mother so stop telling me what the fuck to do! You’re not special. You aren’t doing anything anyone I pulled off the street couldn’t do. You’re a kid, and I’m your elder—and the owner of this motherfucking business—so show me some goddamn respect.”
“I—I’m sorry,” he all but whimpers.
“Are you?” I question, my voice still raised. “Or are you happy because you found the right button to push?”
“What? No.”
“I don’t know what it’s like where you come from, but people don’t behave like this. I tried to work with you but it still wasn’t good enough.”
He’s trying his hardest to remain strong but I still catch his chin quivering. “I thought I was doing a good job.”
“You were. And then you went and ruined it by pissing me the fuck off.”
“So what… what does that mean?”
“It means it’s time for you to go.” I step away and back to the coffee machine.
I hear the locker door open, the sounds of Carey putting on his brother's flannel coat, and his skateboard clanging against the metal as he takes it out. Then he walks behind me without a word.
It should be a relief, pushing him away. Maintaining control. Defining my boundaries. But instead, as I stand hunched over—my hand shaking as I tamp the coffee grounds down hard—the sickening churn sinks back into my stomach.
“Are you gonna call Brooklyn when I leave?”
I turn my head to look at Carey as he stands at the back door, one hand on the handle and his slippers in the other.
“I don’t know,” is all I say, then focus back on the coffee machine.
A few seconds later I hear the back door open and Carey’s skateboard hit the pavement.
