Chapter 15 Chase
CHASE
Work was shit on Tuesday. I thought about calling in sick, but fuck that.
I wasn’t a coward, and I needed the money.
So I went like I did every day, and tied my stupid apron on over my stupid shirt and khakis, and made Lee and Tyler their coffees like nothing had changed at all.
Because it hadn’t, or at least it wouldn’t have if Lee hadn’t gotten all tied up in knots about nothing.
We could have been fucking in the walk-in on the regular if he hadn’t been such an asshole about the whole stupid boyfriend thing.
And now neither of us was getting laid, and how dumb was that?
I hoped he had a dry spell that lasted as long as the Pleistocene Epoch.
Cash had been listening to an audiobook about the Ice Age last night, by the way.
Lee must have told Tyler what happened because he was weird with me too, which was bullshit.
“Hey, man,” he said when I took them their coffees. “How’s it going?”
But he didn’t say it in his usual way. He said it like he knew something was up and I needed to be fucking coddled or some shit, like Gracie when she fell down and skinned her knees.
“Good,” I said. “I want my break at ten.”
Tyler exchanged a look with Lee before he answered. “Sure. No problem.”
Assholes.
I went back out front and got ready for opening.
Lee came out with a tray of cupcakes and I shoved them into the cabinet.
I made a mess of it, and I waited for him to say something so I had an excuse to argue with him, but he just looked, shrugged, and walked away.
He had dark rings under his eyes like he maybe hadn’t slept, and I felt bad for a hot second before I remembered that he was the one who’d turned me down, so he deserved to feel like shit.
Trouble was, I felt like shit too.
I’d come close to having something like a relationship, even if it had been only for a few days, and I missed it already.
But it had only taken that long to figure out that I couldn’t be there for both Cash and for Lee, and it wasn’t even a choice.
It was Cash, every time, and in a heartbeat. No fucking question.
I just wished it could be different. If I’d done a better job of protecting Cash when we were kids, he wouldn’t be so messed up now. Maybe I wouldn’t be either. So I wished it could be different, but it wasn’t, so there was no fucking point getting all butthurt over it.
Except I still felt like shit, and the first customers of the day didn’t exactly lift my spirits.
They all wanted stuff, except they didn’t know exactly what they wanted and somehow thought like I should know.
Apparently, “just fucking pick something” wasn’t the answer they were expecting when they asked what I recommended.
The tip jar wasn’t going to get much fuller today, I guessed.
Bobby didn’t improve my shitty mood by coming by midmorning with my repaired bike.
Like, it was good that he’d fixed it, but I’d kind of wanted to see if Lee would offer me a lift home this afternoon.
If he didn’t, I could get a rush of hot, righteous anger because he was being an asshole again.
And if he did, I’d get a rush of hot, righteous pride because I’d get to tell him I didn’t need his fucking charity.
So it was like a win/win whatever happened, except Bobby came and rained on my parade.
Still, he’d done a great job on the bike. You could hardly tell he’d run over it. It might have actually been an entirely different bike.
“Thanks, Bobby,” I said when he took me outside to show me. “It looks really good.”
“Goes like a dream,” he said proudly, his hands on his hips. I wished he was standing in a different way since his hand placement was inadvertently pulling up his already short denim shorts and making them even shorter.
“Did you paint it too?” I asked, looking at the frame of the bike so I didn’t accidentally get an eyeful of his balls if they were gonna make a sudden appearance.
“Yup,” he said. “I’ve got a buddy over in Whittles Mill with a spray gun, so I borrowed that. Sure beats using the old rattle can!”
“Thanks again,” I said, doing my best to sound like I meant it.
Bobby hummed, then said, “So, is it true?”
For one terrifying second I thought he’d heard about Lee and me fucking in his walk-in—shit, were there cameras?—and panic washed over me, my chest squeezing tight. “Is what true?” I hated how my voice came out in a panicked squeak.
Bobby tilted his head. “That you refused to serve Wilder’s daddy.”
I let out a long breath and my heart stopped trying to batter its way out of my rib cage. “Yeah, it’s true,” I said.
I’d already figured Bobby wasn’t going to give me shit for it or I would have heard about it before now, but it was still a surprise when he threw his head back and laughed, slapping his thigh. “I would have paid money to see the look on his face!”
“Really?”
Bobby nodded. “I never liked that man, and the way he treated Wilder wasn’t right. Besides,” he added, his brow creasing, “he’s said some real unflattering things about Lucille in the past.”
I nodded seriously and pretended like half the town hadn’t cursed out his goose at least once.
Bobby ran a hand over the seat of the bike and said, “I won’t keep you. They’ll need you inside.”
He followed me into the bakery and disappeared into the back.
He reappeared moments later carrying a sourdough loaf and a box of cookies, and he gave me a cheerful wave as he left.
Soon after, Lee emerged from the kitchen with a tray of fresh cookies.
I opened my mouth out of habit to say something about Bobby’s crazy outfit, but then I caught his expression and my mouth snapped shut.
Lee looked like a man whose dog had just been put down, and it hit home that he wasn’t going to be laughing with me at anything anytime soon.
Misery churned in my belly, and I shoved it down and let it mix with the irritation that was already simmering there.
When Lee stood there too long, I snapped.
“What, you don’t trust me with your precious cookies?
” I grabbed the tray from him but he didn’t let go, and when I yanked the tray out of his hands, cookies went flying, bouncing onto the floor and rolling under the counter, leaving me standing there with an empty tray. My face heated and I glared at him.
“Clean up,” Lee said, his expression hardly shifting at the sight of the destruction, “and then you can take your lunch break.”
He disappeared into the back and a few seconds later Tyler appeared carrying the broom.
He handed it to me silently and then took over serving while I swept up the mess and tried not to think about if I was more pissed at Lee not even being pissed, even though it had been an accident, or at the fact that they were peanut butter cookies and I’d ruined a whole tray of them.
It was a long fucking day, and I spent most of it suppressing the urge to punch walls.
When it was time to get the hell out of there, I bolted without even waiting to see if there were any leftovers.
I was almost glad I had my bike back, even though it had robbed me of the opportunity to be angry at Lee again.
At least the ride home gave me the chance to work out some of my frustrations and flip the bird to some old asshole near the bridge who cut me off like I was invisible.
When I got home, I dumped the bike against the front porch and forced myself to stand at the front door and take a whole lot of deep breaths.
Wilder’s truck was in the driveway and so was Danny’s, and I didn’t want to blow up at them for something that had nothing to do with them.
Not because it would be wrong, because I didn’t really give a shit about that, but because it would lead to them asking questions.
Like, What the fuck is wrong with you, Chase? and then I might have to answer them.
I exhaled slowly one last time and went inside, tugging at the zipper of my jacket.
It slid halfway down and then refused to move.
I wrestled it back up and then tried again, the way I’d been doing for a month now.
Only this time when I yanked at the metal part of the zipper, it came off in my hand.
I stared at it. Of fucking course. Everything else in my life was falling apart. Why not this too?
My eyes stung with sudden tears, and I blinked them away furiously.
It was just a dumb fucking jacket. It didn’t matter. But even while I told myself that, misery welled in my chest, and I had to fight back a second wave of tears that threatened.
“Stupid piece of shit jacket,” I muttered and wrenched it open. The teeth of the zipper broke apart, and I guessed I was never going to be able to do it up again. So I wrenched the jacket off, bundled it up, and carried it through to the kitchen. I shoved it in the trash can under the sink.
There. Fuck you.
Then I dug it out again, hoping it wasn’t too gross in there, because otherwise it’d be a cold ride to work tomorrow morning. At least one thing was going my way because, apart from a few beer cans, the trash was empty. I figured I could cope with a jacket that smelled of beer.
My deep breathing exercises on the front porch hadn’t worked as well as I’d thought, maybe. But a beer definitely would, so I grabbed one out of the refrigerator and went out onto the back porch to sit in the sunlight and drink it.
Danny was mowing the backyard, or at least the bits scrubby enough to have any grass.
There was no sign of Wilder, but I figured he was probably over at Avery’s.
Danny said it was because they were all in love and shit and having a honeymoon period in their relationship, but I figured it was mostly because Wilder was new to dick and couldn’t get enough of it. Which was relatable.