Page 5 of When In Doubt

One by one, balls roll off the table, scattering across the floor until there’s nothing left but mayhem. I straighten, digging my fist into my leg and praying the pain dissipates, and meet Freya’s blue eyes, frozen in shock as the display falls apart.

There’s a long silence, both of us looking at each other before she snaps out of whatever stupor she’s in and launches herself out from behind the desk. “Oh God, are you okay?”

I blink a few times, trying to keep calm. “Fine,” I grumble.

“Do you need an ice pack or something?” She’s hovering in the middle of the shop floor, looking around like a solution’s gonna appear from behind a shelf.

“No. Fuck,” I mutter as I take a step, feeling like I’ve been stabbed. “The hell is that made of?”

“I think it’s an antique,” Freya says quietly.

“Yeah, I can see that.” I’m too tired and in too much pain to keep my irritation in check. “You shouldn’t have it so close to the shelves.”

“What?” she says, bewildered.

“It doesn’t matter.” I huff and collect my purchases, limping toward the register.

“No, tell me,” she presses, following until she slips past me and we’re staring each other down over the register.

“It’s nothing,” I all but growl.

“If there’s something wrong with the store, then I’d like to know.” She straightens her spine, but I see the way her knuckles bleach white as she grips the back of her chair, how her jaw clenches like she’s bracing for something.

“I’m just saying,” I relent, trying to keep my tone even, “that there is no way I’m the first person who’s walked into that.”

“You are.”

“You don’t get kids in here? That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen,” I snap, hating myself for it the second I let the words fly. I’m just so tired, I shouldn’t be allowed around people when I’m like this. But that doesn’t make me feel any less shitty about the look in her eyes.

It’s not angry like I deserve. It’s resigned, as though she’s been expecting someone to barge in and list off all the things she’s been doing wrong. I catch a hint of glassiness clinging to her lower lash line and I want to punch myself in the kidney.

“Frey—”

“Did you find what you were looking for?” She doesn’t let me finish. She pushes her shoulders back, lips a hard line.

“Yeah.” I sigh, handing over the yarn. “Look, I⁠—”

“That’s twenty-eight forty,” she interrupts. “Do you need a bag?” Her voice shakes and it kills me. My first time in a room with her in thirteen years, and I manage to fuck it up this badly.

She doesn’t wait for me to answer, already sliding the balls into a paper bag. “Freya.”

“Have a nice day,” she says curtly, not looking up at me as she runs my card and hands it back.

“Do you want me to…” I trail off, gesturing at the mess.

“No, thank you.”

I sigh, nodding once as I turn to leave the store. I know how to leave well enough alone. I’ve done enough damage here. My twelve-year-old self would be ashamed of me right now.

I just made Freya Malcolm cry.

Chapter Three

FREYA

Ihold it together until he’s out the door, and then the tears come. What the heck is his problem? I step over the colorful skeins like they’re landmines to make it to the door, flipping the sign and turning the lock before he gets any ideas about coming back. I’ve spent enough time in my life dealing with asshole men, I don’t need one more.

I don’t know why these things are always so hard for you. Aaron’s voice echoes like he’s next to me.