Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
PENNY
I opened my eyes and realized I was on the floor, jagged pieces of broken glass all around me, something trickling down my neck. Blood. And it was staining the rug. Not my rug, but Mitch’s.
I sat up with a gasp in my own bed and hit the light.
No blood on me anywhere. Nothing but a scar from the memory of that night. It’d been just a dream. I let out a shaky breath and touched the scar on my jaw.
It was over. I was far away and free. I was fine.
I repeated this mantra to myself until I stopped trembling, then got into the shower and stood there so long I ran out of hot water. I got out and firmly told my pale, trembling reflection in the bathroom mirror that I was a kick-ass, strong woman who’d left her past in the past.
A kick-ass woman who’d left her past in the past and…was not ready to do anything as official as “just dinner.” And then I went to work, because even a kick-ass, strong woman needed to eat and put a roof ov er her head.
An hour and a half later, I drove out of the Hungry Bee kitchen in a heavy downpour and parked at Colburn Restorations.
Still feeling a little shaky, I pressed a hand to my quivering belly and promised myself homemade chocolate chip cookies if I made it through the day without falling apart, at least not publicly.
So I pulled up my proverbial big girl panties and stepped out into the crazy rain.
I’d been so busy talking myself off the ledge before leaving the house that I’d forgotten my raincoat.
There were worse things, so I loaded up my cart and pushed it into the reception area, taking a minute to shake off like a wet dog, which did nothing since I was already soaked to the bone.
But good news, now I couldn’t tell if I was trembling because of the cold or the dream, which meant I could pretend it was the cold.
I knew what Mitch had done to me wasn’t my fault, but I hated that I’d fallen for a pretty face and pretty words.
I’d been completely infatuated—and completely intimidated—by him and his success.
He was powerful and respected and, as everyone had kept telling me, a huge catch.
I’d ignored many, many red flags, so much so that the gaslighting and bullying had crept up on me.
In fact, I’d never seen it coming, and I hated that too.
He’d been bad for me, in so many ways, but the worst part had been the utter loss of my own self-worth and confidence.
A very kind therapist had gently helped me come to terms with that, and I liked to think that I could avoid falling into the same trap next time, but that didn’t mean I trusted myself enough to dive back in.
I’d gone out a few times since Mitch, just to see what would happen.
And what happened had been utter disinterest on my part. So I’d stopped trying.
And yet I’d just committed Wonder Woman to going out with Ryder Colburn.
What had I been thinking? I mean, I couldn’t get hurt in a relationship if I wasn’t in one. But…this wouldn’t be a relationship, my perky nipples argued. It wasn’t even a date. It was Just Dinner.
With the first guy to make you feel…anything.
Gah .
I should cancel.
I would cancel.
I was nodding to myself as I looked around, realizing the building was very quiet this morning. I saw no one as I pushed my cart down the hall. At the doorway to the staff kitchen, my phone vibrated an incoming call from Wyatt.
“Bro,” he said.
I’d given up asking why he called me that. I’d decided to take it as a compliment. “Wow, I’m impressed you’re up so early?—”
“It’s raining,” he said.
“You’re awake on time and you’ve looked up from your game long enough to know it’s raining? Okay, who are you and what have you done with my baby brother?”
“Har-har. The bucket in the laundry room’s filling up.”
Oh, shit. I used to think being a grownup was one crisis after another. I was wrong. It was multiple crises. Concurrently. All at once. All the time. Forever and ever. “I forgot to check it when I left,” I said. Busy morning having anxiety and all that… “I need you to empty it.”
“Do I have to?”
I resisted knocking my head against the kitchen doorway. “If it’s filling up, yes, please.”
“I don’t think it’s that full.”
I drew a deep breath for patience. “Wyatt, just empty the damn bucket before the kitchen floods again.”
“But—”
“You like eating, right?” I asked.
“Well, yeah?—”
“So let me spell this out for you—if the kitchen floods again, I can’t cook.”
“You guys are in the middle of redoing the kitchen. Which means you can’t cook here for a while anyway.”
“Just empty the damn bucket!” I had never felt more adulty in my life. “ Please .”
“Okay, okay, jeez. But I need you to sign some stuff. There’s a dumb field trip. And then there’s that soccer tournament in South Bay. Coach said to tell you we need drivers. Also, I’m supposed to bring in a check today. Oh, and Tommy got an iguana and I want one too.”
I hit mute to snap out a word that I didn’t allow Wyatt to say. Then I put the phone back to my ear. “Would’ve been helpful to know about the school stuff last night. You know, when we were in the same place at the same time.”
“I forgot. I also forgot that there’s a birthday party tonight I want to go to.”
“You’re twelve.”
“Birthday party, not a drug drop.”
I rubbed the spot between my eyes. I suppose now I knew why parents always had stress lines there. “Whose birthday?”
“You don’t know her.”
“Her?” I squeaked.
“Cindy Martine. She’s my math teacher’s daughter. There’ll be annoying adults chaperoning. Kenny’s mom is going to drive us there and pick us up.”
“You swear?”
“I swear.”
“Do you like her?” I asked. “This Cindy?”
“For once, can you just be normal and say yes?” he grumbled.
“Yes, but we need to talk.”
“About what?” Wyatt asked warily. “About me getting an iguana?”
“The birds and the bees.”
There was a stunned, and possibly horrified, silence. “You’ve given me that stupid talk like a bazillion times. Plus I’m not…” He blew out a disgusted breath.
“You’re not having sex yet, I know. I’m hoping you don’t until I’m dead, but there’re a lot of things that lead up to it?—”
“Please don’t name them, not ever again.”
“Fine. Then tell me the rules.”
He sighed dramatically and lowered his voice, like I was torturing this out of him. “I get verbal consent before so much as touching anyone. I respect personal boundaries, even the nonverbal ones.”
“And…?”
I couldn’t see him through the phone, but I knew he rolled his eyes so hard he probably saw his own brain.
Radio silence.
“Tell me,” I said. “Or no party.”
“Don’t be a fool, wrap your tool.”
I grinned. Gotta get your kicks where you could… “Text me when you get there and drop me a pin, and text again when you leave. Be home by ten.”
“Midnight.”
“Nine-thirty,” I said.
“Ten it is.”
Okay, so he was calling only because he needed stuff. I’d like to say I’d never been such an annoying, thoughtless, heartless teenager, but I’d be lying through my teeth. I probably owed my mom an apology. But then again, she hadn’t exactly mom’d me much, so maybe we were even.
“I’ll come by the school between my deliveries. Don’t forget to remind grandma before you leave that Hank’s got a doctor appointment today, okay? I scheduled them an Uber.”
“She says she’s driving. Soon as she finds her keys.”
“She won’t. I hid them.”
“Where?” he asked.
“Where I hid the alcohol from you, and I’m not telling.”
“I told you, it was Tommy who drank the vodka in the freezer. Not me.”
“Which is why Tommy’s not allowed over anymore. Don’t forget to brush your teeth.”
“Aw, man.”
“With toothpaste,” I added.
But he was already gone. Of course he was. I let out a long breath and whispered my favorite four-letter word again.
A rough, quiet laugh had me jerking my head up. I couldn’t see another soul, so I rounded the corner of the island and nearly tripped over the man sitting on the floor, his back to the sink, his long legs out in front of him.
Ryder. Wearing another baseball cap, black cargo pants this time, battered work boots, a white Colburn Restorations t-shirt with…
A whole bunch of blood soaking through the cotton.