Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
SLOANE
The bell over the diner door chimes when I step inside, and Mandy’s already behind the counter wiping the surface when I walk in. As soon as she spots me, she gives me a concerned once-over.
“You okay?” she asks while I tie my apron, leaning in like we’re sharing a secret. “I can’t believe that prick from yesterday.”
But I don’t care about him. My thoughts are consumed with Milo.
“I’m fine.” I throw on a grin.
Mandy’s brows lift. “You don’t look fine.”
“Just didn’t sleep much.” I shrug, hoping it’s enough to make her drop it. I can’t afford to fall apart at work.
“Why not?”
“Just up all night thinking about all the bills I have due this month.”
It’s not exactly the truth, but it’s enough.
Mandy’s face softens immediately. “Sloane…do you need to borrow some money? You know I’m here for you, whatever you need.”
“Oh God, no,” I immediately say.
I would never borrow from anyone. But there is something she can help me with…
“You’re still working at the Whitlocks’ bed and breakfast, right?”
The Whitlocks are this wealthy family who run Blackthorn Ridge Ranch, and everyone around here knows their name. Most of them live on their huge ranch out in Texas, but they also have a smaller one here in New Jersey.
“Yep, I’m still there. Why?” She narrows her stare.
“I could really use a second job. Do you know if they’re hiring for just Fridays? I know that’s probably unlikely, but I figured I’d ask.”
“I can ask.”
“And they pay cash the same day, right?”
She nods. “Always, and they pay well.”
This would be so good for me.
“Oh my God,” she goes on. “Wouldn’t it be fun if we worked there together too? And what’s better than petting horses?”
She’s not wrong. And if I actually got a job there, maybe I could finally bring Milo around the ranch. His face flashes through my mind, the way he presses his hands to the car window whenever we pass Blackthorn Ridge like he can’t get close enough. He loves horses as much as I do.
I’ve driven by the ranch so many times, all that open space stretching out forever, and it looks like heaven.
I’ve just never had a reason to go. If I’m honest, I’ve been avoiding people on purpose.
The less I stand out, the fewer questions I get.
The fewer questions I get, the harder it is for anyone to connect the dots back to my old life in New York.
“It would be fun,” I finally say, hoping I get the chance.
She’s about to add something else, but Mark steps out of the back office at that exact moment, pushing his glasses up his nose with a huff.
“Sloane? Can you come with me for a minute?”
Dread hits hard, bile creeping up my throat as yesterday flashes through my mind. The spilled coffee. That man running his mouth. Mark deciding I’m more trouble than I’m worth.
I can’t lose this job. I can’t.
Mandy catches my forearm before I can move.
“It’s probably nothing,” she whispers. “You didn’t do anything.”
I swallow hard, because when has that ever mattered?
A nod comes out of me, even though my heart is already kicking against my ribs. When I follow Mark toward the back, the diner noise fades behind us and all I can register is my own pulse. The office door shuts, and anxiety continues to surge through me.
“Have a seat.” Mark gestures toward the chair across from his desk.
The room tightens around me as I drop onto the leather, hands folded together in my lap to stop them from shaking.
“If I did something wrong, I can fix it. I swear.”
Mark squints like he doesn’t understand what I’m talking about. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
My throat works through the lump there. “Then why am I here?”
He takes his seat and leans back, studying me until my skin starts to crawl. “Because you’ve been doing everything right.”
“What?”
That doesn’t make sense, and it only gets stranger when he says, “I want to promote you.”
It takes a second for the words to sink in, but they still don’t feel real.
“Promote me? To what?”
“Manager.”
A laugh slips out. “That’s not funny.”
Mark doesn’t laugh with me. “I’m serious.”
My amusement dies as I wait for the punchline that doesn’t come. “Why me?”
“You’ve been here long enough.” He flips his hands in the air. “And most importantly, customers like you. You handle people well. You keep your head when things get messy, and this place needs someone who can do that.”
“That’s not…” My head shakes. “I don’t have experience. There are people who’ve been here longer. People who actually know what they’re doing.”
“Well, I want you.”
He can’t be serious. This has to be a joke.
“I don’t think I’m right for this.”
“You are.” He grabs a notepad, scribbles, then slides it across the desk. “This is your new salary. Paid biweekly. Same hours too. You start tomorrow.”
My eyes drop to the number and my lungs forget how to work.
Forty-five thousand.
Holy. Shit.
The number sits there like it’s mocking me. It has to be a mistake. Life doesn’t work like this, not for someone like me.
This money means I can eventually get a small apartment and have Milo back. The problem is, most rentals want credit reports I can’t give them and paperwork I can’t provide without unraveling everything. But I can figure that out.
For now, this is good. Really good. The only hitch is waiting two weeks for the money to start coming in, which means I still need the ranch job for extra cash.
“Thank you,” I manage, staring at the number like it might disappear if I look away. “I won’t mess this up.”
“I know you won’t.”
I push up from the chair, still trying to make my brain accept that this is actually happening.
“Oh, before I forget.” He opens a drawer, pulling out a small box wrapped in pink paper and finished with a glossy white bow and sliding it toward me. “One of our customers left this for you.”
My hands still in midair. “A customer?”
He lifts the box. “Kirill. He asked me to make sure you got it.”
My pulse kicks hard, like it does every time I think about Kirill and how it would feel if he kissed me.
“What is it?” My fingertips buzz in anticipation as I take the box from him.
Why would he get me something?
The gesture pulls at the part of me who wants to matter.
Mark shrugs. “He didn’t say.”
“Thanks again.” I turn toward the door and rush out to the front, eager to see what’s inside.
As soon as Mandy notices the gift, she scrunches her nose. “Does Mark have a crush on you or something?”
“What? Oh, that. No, that’s not from him.”
“Then who?”
“Kirill…”
Mandy’s brows shoot up so high they nearly disappear into her hairline. “Kirill? As in tall, scary, hot, looks-like-he-could-kill-a-man Kirill?”
Heat crawls up my neck. “Mandy.”
“The one who basically threatened to rip that guy’s tongue out yesterday?” she presses, rather delightfully. “That Kirill?”
I glance around. The diner is dead. Only two tables are busy. A couple of old men nursing coffee and staring at the TV. No one’s listening, thank goodness.
Mandy grins. “Well, what the hell are you waiting for? Open it. If it’s a bomb, at least we’ll go together.”
“That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
My hands are clammy as I set the box down behind the counter and slowly peel back the paper. The lid lifts, and all I can do is stare.
A cellphone rests inside, sleek and brand new. The kind I’ve seen in commercials where the people holding it look like they’ve never had to choose between gas and groceries. It’s too nice to be real.
Mandy lets out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s top of the market, baby. I told you he likes you.”
The word likes lands wrong, as though it doesn’t belong in my life. Like it’s a costume someone’s trying to force onto me.
He doesn’t like me. He can’t.
When I lift the phone, I find a note in neat, unmistakable handwriting.
For you, since yours looked broken. You have my number.
You have my number?
What does that mean? Does he want me to call him just for fun? Like in a “hey, how was your day” kind of way? Or only when I actually need his help?
A stupid little thrill sparks in my chest, embarrassing enough that I shove it down and bury it with the wrapping paper like I can get rid of it that easily.
Stop being a child. He doesn’t want you. He’s just a nice guy, probably fixating on you like his new charity case.
Mandy reads over my shoulder, then peers up at me. “Okay. I take it back. He doesn’t just like you. That man is obsessed with you.”
“He’s not,” I say automatically, because the alternative makes my skin prickle.
Mandy gives me a look that says I’m crazy or delusional—or maybe both.
My fingers close around the phone again, and my mind trips over the same thought. The same question that keeps chasing me no matter how many times I try to outrun it.
What did I do to deserve this?
Nothing good ever comes without a price. How many times has life taught me that?
The urge to run hits. Running is what I do when something starts to become too good, too dangerous.
And still, the way my chest loosens, the way relief rushes in like air after being held underwater, makes me hate myself a little because I want to believe in it. I want to believe someone can hand me something and not expect anything back.
Mandy nudges me. “You’re staring at the phone like it might eat you.”
“Shut up.” I elbow her playfully, while my mind is still on the handsome single dad—or at least I think he’s single.
Oh my God, what if there’s a Mrs. Kirill and I’m over here imagining what it would be like if he kissed me?
“So, are you going to tell me what Mark wanted?” Mandy asks, slipping through my thoughts.
“Oh, that. Well…” I chew the edge of my lower lip. “I got promoted. To manager.”
Mandy freezes. Then her face splits open with a grin so bright it makes my throat sting. “Shut up! Oh my God, that’s great!”
She makes a strangled sound and throws her arms around me so fast, I nearly drop the box. One of the elderly men glances over, but Mandy doesn’t care.
“Can you not squeeze me like you’re trying to crack a rib?” I mumble.
But I’m smiling, and it feels strange on my face. I haven’t worn one this honest in a long time, if ever.
For the first time, the future doesn’t look like a wall. It looks like a door that might actually open.