Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
MARILEE
D ammit. I’m not going through this again.
I shove my clothes into my backpack, not caring about all the wrinkles I’ll have to deal with and whether something is clean. Nothing matters except getting out of this cabin before I lose what’s left of my pride. I cram it all in as fast as I can. The faster I’m out of here, the faster I can forget last night’s humiliation.
I drove around for hours before coming back, parking down the road a bit so I didn’t run the risk of waking Milo. I tried to sleep, but I don’t think I slept for more than ten minutes at a time last night. My mind was in overdrive, debating if I should stay here and ignore what happened, or leave and take my chances at finding someplace else to stay. My gig at The Rusty Elk is up at the end of the week, so even if I have to sleep in my car, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. I’m sure as hell not staying here, lease or no lease.
Putting my backpack by the door, I look at the bed. Deep feelings try to rise in me, partly because of what happened—or didn’t—with Milo, but also because while I thought I was finally past what happened with Mark, I realized I wasn’t. Once again, it felt like something was wrong with me, like a man was getting carried away before he looked too close. Like my body is too big or I’m too loud or I’m too demanding.
When I’m done, the room looks like it never belonged to me. The bed is stripped and the blanket is folded on the foot of the bed. I unplug my phone charger, grab the Just Peachy! book I’ve been reading, and slide it into the side pocket of the backpack. I slip into my The Rusty Elk hoodie because even though it’s August, it’s chilly up here on the mountain early in the morning.
I hoist my backpack on my shoulder and walk through the cabin slowly. It’s not like I expect Beast to be up and in here, and I have no idea if he’s out in the hammock or not, but I don’t want to see him. I’m not sure I could keep it together if I had to talk to him this morning.
It’s not that I’m scared of him, but more that I’m scared I’ll lose the nerve or that he’ll say something and convince me to stay despite how badly he hurt me last night. I don’t need a repeat of the dynamic I had with Mark—him getting mad, us fighting, him apologizing, him being indifferent, and the cycle repeating on an endless loop.
My backpack thumps as it lands on the backseat, and I quickly slide into the driver’s seat. My knuckles hurt from how tightly I grip the wheel, but I don’t waver. My eyes burn with unshed tears, but I refuse to cry.
Taking a deep breath, I put my car into gear and leave.
I should’ve known better. I did know better. I told myself not to get attached. But then he softened. He shared stories. He laughed. He made me fish, and we drank bourbon. He looked at me like I mattered.
I squeeze the wheel tighter.
I park in front of The Pine and Petal Café and stare at the building for a long minute. I want to be alone, but if I have any chance of making it through the day, caffeine is needed.
I walk in. The bell over the door jingles, and Sami looks up at me surprised. Sami’s dark hair is pulled back, and she wipes her hands on her apron when she sees me.
Sami glances up at the clock and then turns to me. “You’re sure up and out early, Marilee. You got an early shift? Triple-shot latte?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I nod.
Sami pauses, and her face changes. “Hey,” she says, voice soft now. “You okay?”
I blink fast, trying to smile. “Actually… I was wondering if you know someone with a spare bed. Or a couch. Anything.”
She stares at me, and I’m thankful the café is mostly empty. An audience for my sadness is the last thing I need.
“Wait. What’s going on?” Sami steps out from behind the counter and gives me a huge hug. “What happened?”
I shake my head when we stop hugging. “It’s fine. I… I moved out of the cabin.”
Sami looks at me, and her eyes narrow. “Is it Milo?” she asks.
“Yeah. I just…” My voice wavers. I can’t bear to voice what happened. I’m so ashamed, and it’s way too early to rehash all the details and my feelings. “I can’t stay there anymore.”
I’m not even finished nodding when Sami pulls out her phone. “Finn was supposed to come over tonight, but I’ll text him to see if we can go to his place instead. Or I can cancel altogether if you need company. We can get pints of ice cream and all the wine.”
“Sami, that would be amazing. Don’t cancel for me, though. I have to work tonight and probably won’t be in until late.” I didn’t realize how tightly I was holding myself together until I feel her kindness settle around me. I nod quickly. “Thank you. You are the best. I didn’t know who else to turn to.”
“You don’t have to explain anything,” she says. “I’ve got you.”
Sami goes back behind the counter and makes me a latte. “On the house. I’m trying out a new design.”
I take it with both hands. “It’s gorgeous, as always.”
“Thanks! I’ll text you as soon as I confirm with Finn, but I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t agree,” Sami says. “I’ll bring the extra key by The Rusty Elk after I finish my shift here.”
My smile is weak, but right now, I love Sami more than anything in the world.
I leave the café, then sit on the bench outside and take a deep breath. I need to make it through my shift tonight, and then I’ll go from there. One step at a time.
This hurts. But I know I did the right thing.
“Dammit!” I yell before I can filter my reaction. The glass that was in my hand and on its way to the dishwasher slipped through my fingers, hit the floor, and shattered. Now, foam and beer are soaking my shoes and my jeans and there’s broken glass all over the floor. It wasn’t a full pint, but it doesn’t matter. People are now looking at me. I look out at the bar, feeling like a deer in headlights, then quickly start to clean it up.
This is the third screw-up tonight, and we’re barely halfway through the shift. Maybe Hank didn’t notice, I think, mentally crossing my fingers. Memories of last night keep flooding my mind and distracting me, no matter how much I try to focus on work and getting through my shift.
As I’m sweeping up the last shard, I hear Hank’s boots before I see him. “Back hall. Now,” he commands, his voice low and strained.
I stand without meeting his eyes and follow him, quickly rinsing and drying my hands. The hallway behind the kitchen is dim and narrow, lined with cleaning supplies and kegs of beer. He stops halfway down, near the office door, and crosses his arms.
“What’s going on?” His tone isn’t angry yet, but it’s close.
I open my mouth, trying to find a lie that sounds professional—something that’ll excuse the dropped glass, the wrong orders. But nothing comes. The words I do have are messy and raw.
“I’m sorry,” I say instead. “I’m not trying to tank my shift. I moved out of the cabin this morning.”
Hank frowns, caught off guard. “You moved out?”
I nod and press the towel to my fingers, realizing one of them has a shallow cut. “Yeah. I took off this morning. I’m probably staying with Sami through the end of the week.”
He studies me for a second. The irritation fades into anger.
“What did Beast do?” he demands, crossing his arms over his chest. “Did he hurt you? I swear to God if he touched you…”
“It’s not like that,” I say quickly. “He didn’t hurt me.” Not like what Hank’s implying, anyway.
Hank doesn’t speak, so I keep going.
“I thought…I thought there was something between us. I was wrong. End of story.” My voice catches, and I hate how small I feel saying it.
There’s a long pause. I brace myself for a lecture or awkward silence, but Hank lets out a slow breath and shifts his weight.
“You’re not the first person to fall for someone who’s too stupid to know a good woman when they see one.”
The words are dry but not unkind. He rubs his jaw, his voice lower now.
“I won’t ask questions you don’t want to answer. But I’ll say this—Beast is more messed up than he lets on. Always has been. Good heart, but he keeps it buried. That doesn’t make whatever happened okay. But you should know that whatever happened, it was because of him, not you. I’m not excusing him, but I don’t want you thinking you did something wrong. He’s been different since he met you.”
I look down at the towel now twisted tightly in my hands. “I wish I believed that.”
“You don’t have to right now. But you should hear it anyway. The only thing you did was fall for someone who shuts people out.”
He sighs again and glances toward the kitchen.
“You’ve been one of the best workers this place has ever had. You show up, you learn fast, and you’ve handled more drunk idiots with grace than I thought possible. You’ve got people here, Marilee. You don’t have to be alone.”
The knot in my chest loosens a little. I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed someone to say that.
“If Sami’s offer falls through, Clara and I have a guest room. It’s not fancy, and she’ll probably try to marry you off, but it’s warm, and it’s yours if you need it.”
“Thank you,” I say, and my throat tightens again. “I… I didn’t know what I was going to do last night. I almost asked if I could sleep in the storeroom.”
“You try that, and Clara would never let me hear the end of it.”
That makes me laugh. In a flash of clarity, I realize how quickly I’ve built up a network of friends in Misty Mountain and how I’m not as alone as I thought when I packed my things up this morning.
“I’ll let you know what happens. Sami hasn’t texted back, but she also said she’d stop by tonight and drop off her spare key before the end of my shift.”
“Good. In the meantime, clean up that cut, and if you need a few minutes, take ’em. We’re fine out there. Tessa can handle things for a while.”
I smile again and nod.
I go to the bathroom and splash water on my face. I stare at my reflection for a beat—slightly red eyes, red hair in a mess on the top of my head, pale skin. Not glamorous, but at least I don’t look as bad as my heart feels. I practice smiling and laughing, partly to take my mind off Milo but also because sad servers don’t get good tips. And if I’m leaving Misty Mountain, I’ll need every dollar I can lay my hands on.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket.
Couch is yours tonight if you want it. I’ll drop the key off in an hour. If you want Finn to have a word with Beast, he’s made the offer.
My smile as I read and re-read Sami’s text is the first real, not-forced smile I’ve had all day. Relief spreads through me so fast it makes me dizzy.
Thank you! I’ll be here. You’re a lifesaver! 3
When I put my phone away and head back out to the bar, something settles in me.
I’m still bruised, but for the first time all day, I don’t feel like I’m sinking.