CHAPTER EIGHT
Nova
HERE’S YOUR CHECK. TAKE YOUR TIME AND LET ME KNOW if you need a refill,” I said, sliding the bill holder onto the two top.
The man looked up at me as he pulled it toward him with two fingers.
Everything about him was just a little too slick.
He’d been nothing but quietly polite as I took his order and served him a chicken bacon ranch sandwich.
But his outdoor gear was a little too perfect.
His haircut, too. And it put me on edge.
Dark-brown eyes studied me as he flipped open the bill holder. “And how much of a tip would it take to get you to accompany me to dinner tonight?”
And there it was.
I was almost relieved by the douchebag move after being on edge over nothing for the past hour. It proved that just maybe I could trust myself and my intuition.
I didn’t mind a patron hitting on me every now and then. Asking me out. Shooting their shot. Even if the answer would always be no. It had happened back in Oakland when I worked at the coffee shop and yoga studio, and I’d mastered the polite decline if I wasn’t interested.
I wondered what this guy would say if I replied honestly. “No one’s touched me in almost a year and a half. The only person who tried sent me into a breakdown so extreme that I had to be sedated. But if that’s cool with you, let’s get a drink.”
But he went straight to the buying-me approach, and I wasn’t down with that.
“I can get you some boysenberry pie for dessert or a cup of coffee, but I’m afraid I’m not on the menu, and no human being is for sale.” I delivered the line with a beaming smile.
The man scowled at me.
I just smiled wider. “You let me know about that pie.”
Turning, I headed back toward the bar.
Aidan moved in alongside me, fighting not to laugh. “That was a thing of beauty. ‘You let me know about that pie.’” The laughter found him then. “What a douche canoe.”
Piper, our youngest waitress at just twenty-one, flicked her dark-brown locks over her shoulder before reaching for her tray of drinks. “I definitely want to be you when I grow up.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said with a laugh. “I probably just smart-assed my way out of a tip.”
Wylder’s dark brows pulled together as he moved to our end of the bar. “What happened? Is everything okay?”
Aidan waved him off. “Don’t worry. Nova has it covered. She just put a douche canoe in his place after he all but asked her how much a roll in the hay would cost.”
Wylder’s dark-hazel eyes flashed. It wasn’t the same way Kol’s did, though. This was different. His went stormy black—the only sign of his temper. He watched as the Slick Rick rose from the table and tossed a few bills on the surface. “I’ll ban him—”
I held up a hand. “I’m fine. It honestly felt kind of good. Something about him was off, so it felt vindicating that I was right.”
Wylder took that in, and then a small smile curved his mouth. “Always good to know you can trust yourself.”
Of course he instantly understood. Because Wylder could read people better than anyone I knew.
The sound of uproarious laughter filled the air, making me turn to see Cora walking away from a table with a few people I recognized as locals. Her mouth was set in a tight line, but I didn’t miss the slight tremble of her tray.
My gaze narrowed on the patrons at her table. Was it douche canoe season? It didn’t look like they were drinking anything but sodas, yet I could see the way a few of them looked at Cora. As if they were laughing at her, rather than with her.
One woman, who looked to be in her early thirties, flicked her brown hair over her shoulder as she lifted her voice. I could just make out the words.
“You’re telling me she didn’t know about her psycho fiancé? Please. Some women are so desperate they’ll do anything to keep a man.”
Cora’s cheeks turned bright red, but she kept right on walking toward the bar. “Can I get a lemonade, please?”
Her voice was soft, her gaze downcast.
“Why don’t you let me take that table?” I offered. “I’ve only got one now.”
Cora shook her head, not looking at me. “I’m fine.”
Other than her offer of insoles help, she’d basically avoided me since I started.
She’d give me a polite hello and then do everything she could to keep her distance.
I understood, but it still smarted. More than that, it had guilt digging in deep.
If my being here was too hard for Cora, then I needed to look for another job.
Wylder filled the lemonade, but his gaze didn’t stray from Cora.
A muscle fluttered along his jaw as his fingers tightened around the soda gun.
“Why don’t you take your break? My office is open.
” His voice was so incredibly gentle, and there was something almost tender in the way he focused on Cora.
Like he would do anything to take away her pain.
Piper sidled up to the bar between Cora and me. “I’ve got this, Wy.”
She grabbed the lemonade and strode toward the table of assholes.
Her smile was bright as she approached. “I’ve got one lemonade for the jerk-face who felt the need to make fun of a woman who’s been through hell.
I’d take the drink because it’s clear this may be the only good thing in your life, if you feel the need to kick someone when they’re down. ”
The brunette at the table gaped at Piper. “You can’t talk to me like that.”
Piper only beamed wider. “Oh, I can. Because my boss looked like he was two seconds away from eighty-sixing your asses. Really, I saved you.”
The woman’s gaze flicked to the bar, where I could feel Wylder’s wrath pouring out of his expression. She paled slightly.
The guy across the table snickered. “Guess your big mouth is finally coming back to bite you, Beth.”
“Shut up, Deacon,” she hissed, snatching the lemonade from Piper.
Our youngest waitress strode back to us, a huge grin splitting her face. I answered it with one of my own. “The student becomes the teacher.”
Piper’s eyes sparkled. “I learned from the best.”
“I’m going to take that break.” Cora made a beeline for the back hallway.
Piper’s smile fell. “Did I fuck up?”
“No,” Wylder said quickly. “She’s just going through a lot. I’m going to check on her.”
“Can I?” I asked, cutting in.
He looked back at me, uncertainty in his expression.
“Please,” I said softly. “I need to say some things. If they don’t help, I’ll steer clear of her from now on.”
What I didn’t say was that steering clear would mean finding a new job. But I knew Wylder would understand. He was the most empathetic person I’d ever met.
“Okay,” he agreed. “Let me know if you need anything.”
I nodded and started for the back hallway. The bar was only about a third full, so I knew Piper and Aidan could handle the tables for now—though it would pick up again when happy hour hit in about forty-five minutes.
Making my way down the quiet hall, I stopped in front of Wylder’s office door. I took a second to steady myself, remembering how it felt to have my bare feet pressed to the earth, my palm against the tree trunk. I breathed.
And then I twisted the knob to the office door and stepped inside.
Cora’s head snapped up the second the door opened. Tears glistened in her eyes, and her face had gone pale.
Shit.
I quickly closed the door and moved deeper into the room. Cora sat on the leather couch Wylder had shoved up against the wall, but I didn’t want to corner her, so I opted to balance on the side of the desk.
“Hey,” I said softly.
Cora’s gaze immediately dropped to her hands.
“That woman was a bitch.”
Nothing.
“No, that’s an insult to female dogs. She was an asshole.”
More silence.
I took a deep breath. “No one believes what she was saying.”
A tear fell from Cora’s eye, splashing on her joined hands. “Yes, they do,” she said, so quietly I could barely hear her.
Even though her words were barely audible, I felt the pain in them. “None of what happened is your fault.”
That was what I’d wanted to say to Cora for months. Ever since I overheard Wylder talking to Dex at an Archer family dinner about how much she was struggling.
Cora still didn’t look at me. “I should’ve known. I went to that cabin more times than I can count. I walked that land. I probably stepped on the places he buried people. People I helped search for.”
Flashes of something coursed through me. Hands tightening around my throat. Lungs burning. “No one’s looking for you.”
I shoved it all down. It didn’t matter whether it was a memory or my imagination.
“If you’d known, you would’ve stopped it,” I croaked.
Cora’s head lifted, finally meeting my gaze. There was so much pain in hers. “He tortured you. Almost killed you. He kept you in a goddamned hole for over a year.”
I fought off the images that wanted to surface. “But you didn’t. This isn’t your fault. And if my working here is too hard, I can find another job.”
Cora’s jaw went slack, but she quickly recovered. “No. Please, don’t. That would make it all worse.”
I let out a long breath. “We can’t let him win.”
Defiance lit up Cora’s features, giving life to just how beautiful she was. “You’re right.” She rubbed her palms over her jeans-clad thighs. “But I have no idea how or where to start.”
“We start together. When the assholes show, we’ve got a united front. And I’m not afraid to pour a lemonade over someone’s head.”
A soft laugh escaped her. “Why am I not surprised?” As the laughter died, Cora studied me for a moment. “How are you doing it?”
I understood what she was asking: How was I facing all the people who knew things about me I never wanted a soul to know? “I already lost a year of my life. I won’t let him take anything else.”
Cora nodded slowly, sending her light-brown hair sweeping over her shoulders. “You should come to a Compass meeting.”
My brows pulled together. I was familiar with the organization’s name, thanks to Brae. It was a nonprofit support group for the loved ones of missing persons.
“I don’t know anyone who’s missing,” I said gently.