Chapter Sixteen
Jase
I threw the metal pan into the sink, where it clattered against other pots, ringing angrily through the kitchen. Aubrey snapped her head up from where she was breaking down the cold station for the night, brows drawn together in surprise.
Tightening my hands around the edges of the dish pit, I lowered my head and forced in a deep breath. I never wanted to be one of those chefs who threw hissy fits, breaking shit and screaming at their staff. Especially when my frustration wasn’t their fault.
The problem was me.
I’d been fucking up all week, breaking sauces, burning pans, overcooking scallops. It was like I was a line cook all over again, and not a fucking good one. My balance was off. What used to come to me as easily as walking now felt like stumbling through muddy, tangled weeds, just trying to stay on my feet.
“You could call her, you know,” Aubrey said.
I clenched my teeth against the pinch in my stomach. “No, I can’t.”
I blew out a breath and headed over to break down the sauté station. The kitchen had technically been closed for an hour, but it had been a busy night, and we’d had tickets open until a few minutes ago. I’d let Zach and Luis go home first to make up for all the slack they’d had to pick up from me this past week. Just thinking about it made me want to throw something else. I was supposed to be teaching them, helping them grow as chefs, not making their jobs harder.
“Why not?” Aubrey challenged. Her own frustration and no lack of judgment filled her voice. She’d made it perfectly clear how she felt about me dodging Dani the way I was, and I didn’t blame her. It was a dick move. No—a cowardly one.
Turned out I was a fucking coward.
“Because…” How did I explain what even just a friendship with Dani would be like? How every single day would feel like that night at Colin’s gallery all over again—one minute, the most right something had ever felt outside the kitchen, only for the next to be a jarring reminder of all the ways it was wrong.
Wrong.
Dr. Ohara would probably challenge me on that word. Ask me who I was hurting by having a friendship with Dani.
I didn’t have an answer. All I knew was how my parents would react if they ever found out.
Dani had met them, for fuck’s sake. She hadn’t been just some casual fling of Alec’s. They’d been serious enough for him to take her home for all of winter break. And even if he wasn’t bothered by the situation, which I honestly couldn’t guess whether he would be or not, my mom would never accept it. Not when it might make her precious baby boy uncomfortable. And I’d be the insensitive older brother who couldn’t help stirring up drama.
That was what I was in my parents’ eyes. The instigator. The fuckup. To them, every decision I made was a way to stick it to the family, never mind whether it actually had anything to do with them or not.
The irony was most of my decisions lately had been about trying to connect with my family. I’d left that part out when I told Dani why I moved back. Yes, I’d wanted the chance to build something of my own as an executive chef, but there’d been more to it than that. A nagging desire to see if maybe I could still have the kind of relationship with my parents and brother I’d wanted growing up. One where I could stand apart from them and still be on equal footing. Where I could be different from them but no less loved.
I was still trying to find out. The struggle was finding a way to do it that was healthy for all of us. But I didn’t see how Dani might fit into that equation. And honestly, I wasn’t sure I had it in me to find out.
“Well, in that case,” Aubrey said when I didn’t answer.
I shook my head. “It’s complicated.”
“Not as complicated as you’re making it.”
She was probably right. But I didn’t know any other way to handle it.
We shut down the rest of the kitchen in silence, labeling food items, putting them neatly away in the walk-in, and sanitizing every surface. I was mopping the floor when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I heaved out a breath, not up for a chat with my mom right now. But she didn’t usually call this late.
I leaned the mop against the prep table and dug out my phone, heart jumping at Dani’s name on the screen. Why was she calling this late?
I caught the call on the last ring. “Dani?”
There came no answer, only her shaky breaths.
My pulse spiked. “Dani, what’s wrong?”
Aubrey looked up from wiping down the inside of the prep fridge, concern in her eyes.
“Someone…” Dani started, but her voice faltered, so quiet I almost couldn’t hear. “Someone’s trying to get into my apartment.”
My apron was over my head before she finished the sentence. “Where are you?”
“In my bed. I’m afraid if I move, they’ll see me.”
“Stay there. I’m on my way.”
I shot a glance at Aubrey, who motioned for me to go, then I was running out of the kitchen, through the mostly empty dining room, and up the stairs.
“Talk to me. What’s going on?” I said as I reached my locker. I didn’t bother changing; just grabbed my wallet and keys and was back down the stairs. I put Dani on speaker just long enough to pull up a ride service app. Her apartment was close enough to walk, but a car would get me there faster.
“They’ve been banging on the door and sh-shouting,” she said, then inhaled sharply. “I don’t know w-what…” She choked on her exhales, sounding seconds away from a full-blown panic attack.
“Hey, just breathe for me, okay?” I forced my voice steady, even as I shook with adrenaline. The car was a minute away. “I’ll be there soon.”
I rushed out onto the sidewalk as the car pulled up and was inside before it fully stopped. I could hear Dani pulling in breaths, still fast and shallow but better than a second ago.
“That’s it, breathe,” I said. My eyes were glued to the GPS, counting the blocks. “I’m almost there.” I hadn’t thought through what I’d do when I got there. For all I knew, the guy was armed. Maybe not with a gun, or he would have used it to get inside by now. But he could have a knife.
At this point, I didn’t care. I just had to get there.
“The pounding stopped,” she said a minute later. “I think…I think they might have left.”
The car turned onto her street. “I’m pulling up now.” There was no sign of anyone outside her building when I exited the car. I took the steps to the front door two at a time. “Can you buzz me up?”
The lock clicked, and I sprinted up the stairs, pocketing my phone as the door at the top of the landing opened, Dani’s small frame shaking on the other side.
I crossed into her apartment and pulled her into my arms. She collapsed against my chest, torso heaving with quiet sobs.
“It’s okay. I’m here,” I said to calm myself as much as her. I could feel her heart racing against where my own was trying to punch its way through my chest.
I shuffled us a few more steps into her apartment and closed the door behind me, making sure to lock it. Then both my arms were around her again, one tight across her shoulders, the other rubbing small circles against her spine as I swayed slightly side to side.
Her hands clung to the back of my chef jacket, but her breathing had slowed, her shoulders no longer shaking.
“He wasn’t here for me,” she said against my chest, voice muffled and still thick with tears. “It was a drunk guy at the wrong building. A woman next door came out and got him.”
I blew out a breath, relief finally easing into my muscles.
We stayed like that for another minute before she sniffed and pulled away. I wasn’t ready to let her go, but I loosened my arms as she stepped back, her head angled toward the floor. I could see the moment she drew her walls back in place.
“Sorry for calling,” she said, her red-rimmed eyes flicking to mine before she headed for the corner of the studio that made up her kitchen. “I didn’t mean to pull you away from the restaurant.”
“It’s fine?—”
“No, I—” She coughed out a laugh. “I don’t know why I didn’t just call the police. It would have made more sense than bothering you. Blame the tequila shots.” She grabbed a tissue from the box on top of her fridge and turned away to blow her nose.
“You didn’t bother me,” I said firmly, taking another step into the apartment. “I’m glad you called me.” Though now I was curious who she’d been doing tequila shots with. I hated that I wanted to know.
Her arms wrapped around the front of her stomach, hands clinging to her sides. “Still, you don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine.” Except she was trembling.
“Let me stay with you tonight. I don’t want you to be alone.”
She shook her head, still facing away from me.
It killed me not seeing what was going on in those eyes, to not know whether she was really okay. “I’ll sleep on the couch. You won’t even know I’m here.”
“You won’t fit on my couch.”
I glanced behind me at the small two-seater that occupied the living space. It was only a little larger than a loveseat and left just enough room to comfortably maneuver between it and the queen-size bed that filled the other half of the space. I could probably fit on it if I wanted, but only if I didn’t mind having a fucked-up back for the next week.
“Then come stay at my place,” I offered.
I didn’t care that it had been a false alarm. She hadn’t known that while it happened, and with the hate mail she’d been getting, it made sense that she’d be scared. All I wanted was for her to feel safe. And to know she was safe for myself.
She sniffed again, tightening her arms around her torso. I wanted to go to her, to tuck her against me and offer her more comfort. I didn’t think she wanted that right now, and after the way I’d acted this week, I didn’t blame her.
But I had been the one she’d called, and I wasn’t leaving her alone while she was still this shaken.
“Dani,” I pleaded.
She gathered a shuddering breath and let her head fall back on her shoulders as she released it. Like she was giving in, or maybe asking for strength.
She gave a single word in response. “Okay.”