Chapter 17
The plate slipped from Lydia's grasp. Ceramic shattered, sending gravy in all directions as if it tried to escape the scene of the crime.
"Damn it," Lydia whispered, dropping to her knees to gather the pieces before anyone slipped or hurt themselves.
Her hands shook. She hated that they shook.
She'd barely slept. She'd barely eaten. And Baddy hadn't checked in once. Every hour that passed made her chest tighter, her thoughts darker.
He promised to let her know what was going on. His absence had to mean he went to meet Sonny.
She didn't trust anyone from Cusclan Motorcycle Club. If she had to guess, Sonny was probably trying to blackmail Baddy into giving him more money. He was always broke.
She groaned. And now she was going to owe Patty money for a broken plate.
"Lydia!" Patty's voice cut through the clatter of the diner. "Take ten."
Lydia shook her head quickly, scooping up the last of the broken plate. "I'm fine. I'm sorry, I'll keep working."
"Take. Ten." Patty barked through the window.
"I'm okay, really—"
The kitchen door swung open so hard it hit the wall.
Patty stuck her head out, eyes blazing. "Break. Ten minutes. Or you're fired."
Lydia froze. Patty never threatened her job. And the look on her face said she meant it.
She swallowed hard and set the broken pieces in the bin. There wasn't anything she could do except obey. Her legs wobbled beneath her as she walked to the back, pushing open the break room door.
The second it shut behind her, the noise of the diner faded, leaving her alone with the pounding of her heartbeat. She gripped the edge of the small table and closed her eyes.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
But her chest wouldn't loosen. Her lungs wouldn't fill with air. Her thoughts circled the same terrifying loop. Baddy hadn't checked in. Not once.
He'd said he'd talk to her later. Said he'd find her. Said he'd keep her safe.
And now... nothing.
What if something happened to him?
What if Cusclan had killed him?
"Oh, God." She squeezed her eyes tighter, forcing the thought away before it could finish forming. Her stomach twisted painfully. Her pulse thudded in her throat.
She wasn't supposed to panic.
She wasn't supposed to fall apart.
But she was scared.
Really, truly scared.
And she didn't know if she was more afraid of something happening to him or something happening to her because he wasn't there.
She pressed her forehead to the cool tabletop, trying to steady herself. Ten minutes. Then she'd go back out there and pretend everything was fine.
Even if nothing seemed fine at all.
Lydia breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth, trying to force her pulse to slow. Everything circled back around to her mother.
If her mom hadn't gotten mixed up with Sonny. If she hadn't dragged Lydia into the world where bikers called the shots. If she hadn't treated bikers like they were lottery tickets instead of people, Lydia wouldn't be here.
She wouldn't be hiding in a break room, terrified of a club she never asked to be involved with. She wouldn't be waiting for a man she barely understood but somehow trusted more than anyone she'd ever known. She wouldn't be looking over her shoulder every five minutes.
If her mom hadn't been so reckless and selfish, none of this would have happened.
A whimper escaped her. She loved her mom, but love didn't erase the truth.
She inhaled deeply, held it, then let it out slowly. She couldn't fall apart. Not here. Not now. Patty expected her to work, and Lydia needed this job. Needed the normalcy. Needed something to hold onto that resembled freedom.
She straightened, wiped her hands on her apron, and forced her legs to move.
The second she stepped back into the diner, Hannah was there. "Are you okay? You look pale."
"I'm fine," Lydia said quickly.
Madison appeared beside her. "Patty said you looked like you were gonna pass out."
"I'm fine," Lydia repeated, forcing a smile. "Just tired."
From the expressions on their faces, she could tell they didn't believe her, but they didn't push her for a better answer. The lunch rush was picking up again, and they scattered back to their stations to deal with the customers.
Lydia grabbed a pot of coffee and moved through the diner on autopilot. Smile. Pour. Nod. Pretend everything was normal.
But her eyes kept drifting to the windows. Every time a motorcycle rumbled past, her heart jumped. Every time she saw a flash of leather, she froze. Every time the bell over the door chimed, she looked up too fast.
She hated that she was doing it. Hated that she was waiting for him. Hated that she needed Baddy to ride by, even once, just so she could breathe again.