Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Friday I closed alone. The afternoon rush had cleaned us out of everything but three croissants and one muffin. I wiped down the counters, swept the floor, counted the till. The rhythm of closing was its own kind of meditation.
I flipped the deadbolt and reached for the lights. Through the front window, across the street, his Audi sat parked at the curb with the engine and lights off and no one in the vehicle.
I stood there with my hand on the light switch, my keys in my fist and watched the shadows gather inside the car. Nothing moved. The street was quiet. Only my reflection looked back at me from the dark glass of the bakery window. There was no sign of Brett.
I flipped the lights and locked the door behind me. The deadbolt turned with a solid click that echoed in the empty street. His car didn’t move as I walked to my sedan with my keys between my knuckles. I didn’t look back. Instead, I pretended not to notice the bastard.
I swung by a pizza place and picked up dinner, preferring the carbs to fucking pork chops. The rest of the night was quiet. Pizza and mindless TV helped to calm my mind.
The next morning, about fifteen minutes before I was supposed to leave for the bakery, a knock came at the door. I looked through the peephole to find Brett standing in the hallway. I opened the door until the chain caught.
“Junie.” His smile was wide and empty. “Hey.”
“What do you want, Brett?” I did my best to sound indifferent, but the truth was, I was getting a creepy vibe from Brett just now.
“I came for my stuff. You texted me it was ready.” He grinned as he wiggled his phone in the air, like this was all no big deal. Prick.
“I didn’t text you anything.”
His shrugged unconcernedly. “Must have been Gary. He said you called the office.”
“I didn’t call anybody.” I shut the door, slid the chain off, and opened it again. “Your boxes are by the door, though. I have to open the shop, so I’d appreciate it if you made it quick.”
He stepped inside and the apartment felt smaller with him in it. He looked around like he was taking inventory, noting what had changed. The counters were cleared, his things gone. “I owe you an apology,” he said. He’d practiced this. I could hear it in the cadence, the careful pauses. “The way I handled things on your birthday was… I wasn’t at my best. You deserved better than that.”
“You’re right.” I crossed my arms. “I did.” I nodded at his things. “Boxes are there.”
“I mean it, Junie. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. About us. About what happened.” He took a step toward me. I took a step back. “The things I said. I was stressed about the lake listing. Gary was riding me hard. It wasn’t about you.” I didn’t say anything. “It wasn’t. You know how I get when work piles up. I say things I don’t mean.” Another step. His voice softened into that concerned register that used to make me feel seen. Now it made my skin crawl. “But this reaction… showing up at Throttle, getting with some random biker to make a point. That’s not you, Junie. That’s not the woman I fell for.”
I laughed. The sound came out harder than I meant it to. “The woman you fell for, huh? Is that what I was? Because the way you told it, I was needy and boring and not going anywhere. Which is it, Brett? Am I the love of your life or am I dead weight you couldn’t wait to cut loose?”
His jaw tightened. The flush started at his collar, creeping up his neck. “I was trying to be honest. That’s what you always said you wanted. Honesty.”
“Honesty would have been telling me you had someone else lined up. Honesty would have been moving out before my birthday instead of after. This wasn’t honesty. This was you being a coward and a dick.”
The flush deepened. His voice stayed level and reasonable, but his words held bite. “You want to talk about cowardice? Hiding behind some biker trash at a bar? Letting him put his hands all over you where everyone could see? That’s not strength, Junie. That’s embarrassing.”
“I didn’t hide behind him, Brett. I climbed into his lap and kissed him because I wanted to. There’s a difference.”
Something cold moved behind his eyes. The reasonable cadence didn’t change, but the temperature rose substantially. “Do you have any idea what kind of people you’re mixed up with? Motorcycle clubs are criminal organizations, Junie. They run drugs, guns, prostitution. That guy you spent the night with --”
“I didn’t spend the night with him.”
“Don’t lie to me. Where’d you stay, Junie? His place? Some clubhouse full of meth heads and felons? Jesus Christ, use your brain for once!”