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Kayla nods but doesn’t respond. For Brawley to say anything is a big deal, and she must know it. He dumps the plates in the sink before leaving. Clay lingers, and I have a feeling he wants to say something to Kayla, but his pride keeps him silent.
“I will grab your clothes from the laundry if you’re happy to wait here for me,” I tell her.
“Sure, I’ll tidy some of Vero’s mess—it’s the least I can do.”
“You don’t have to. I can do it later.”
“I will help her clean,” Clay murmurs, and I nod, pushing off the kitchen island and walking toward the laundry.
I pull up the security cameras on my phone when I get to the laundry and lean against the washer. Kayla is already cleaning off the stove, and Clay is at the sink filling it with water. I turn the volume up on my phone.
“You don’t have to help clean,” Clay says without turning toward her.
“I know,” she replies. “But where I grew up, if someone cooks, the other person washes.”
Clay picks up a plate and starts to scrub, and I wait to see if he actually apologizes. From how well I know Clay, I bet he won’t, but there is something off about him this morning.
“Kyle,” he says, as if that were a complete sentence.
“What about him?”
“If he comes into the bar again, call me.”
Kayla snorts. “And why would I do that?”
“Because I plan to kill him.”
Kayla stops wiping down the stove and turns to Clay. “Great, so you want to make me an accessory to murder. I have watched Orange Is the New Black, and I don’t need a Crazy Eyes.”
Clay puts the plate down and turns around to lean back against the sink with his arms crossed, staring at her across the kitchen. “I didn’t take you for someone to pussy out on getting revenge.”
“Murder is not the type of revenge I am after. I am more into spraying milk around his house, or paying someone to call him and give him spoilers for his favorite TV series. Not death.”
“He doesn’t get to treat women the way he does.”
Kayla straightens up and looks at him. “Is this you being concerned about me, Clay? Because I have to say I don’t know how to feel about that, given last night you had your hand around my throat in a grave and squeezed until I passed out.”
“You signed the form.”
“I did. But you are giving me whiplash.”
Clay glares at her for a long moment, and then instead of just saying he’s sorry like a normal person, he changes the subject. “I thought you were a bitch.”
“Oh, I am. And I still think you’re a dick, so we are even.”
Clay watches her for another few seconds and then turns back to the sink. He picks up the next plate, and she goes back to wiping, neither of them speaking again.
I pull her clothes out of the dryer, fold them, and check my phone screen one more time before I pocket it and head back to the kitchen.
Chapter Eleven
Kayla
The past two weeks have been super weird. Clay comes to the bar every time I have a shift. I asked Rogue if she told him when I work, but she didn’t, so I don’t know how he knows. He doesn’t acknowledge me beyond a nod when he arrives, and when he orders a drink.
Vero, however, has been warned by Rogue not to annoy me while I am working. He follows me around and talks, or collects glasses and brings them back to the bar. If he doesn’t come in, he will text me silly reels or memes, and I can’t help how much I have grown to like the guy.
Thankfully, today is my night off. I received a mysterious message from Vero and a box, but I wasn’t allowed to open the box until tonight. So I stare it and wonder what the hell it could be.
