13
*********
Poppy
“Are you sure it’s okay if I pop out?” Mandy, my coworker says, chewing her bottom lip. “I just started here a few weeks ago, and I don’t want it to seem like I’m flaky.”
Yet here you are, asking to duck out of your shift an hour early.
But what do I care? It’s dead in here.Besides, I like being alone. Mandy is nice, but she likes to talk—a lot.
“Nah. It’s fine.” I look past her at the empty café. “I think I’ll manage. Go on.”
She sighs in relief before nodding eagerly. “Thank you, Poppy. I’ll cover you next time you need to slip out early.” Gathering her things, she quickly darts out the front door like she’s scared I’ll change my mind.
Once she’s gone, I take a deep breath and slowly let it back out. Closing my eyes for just a second, I take in the silence and allow myself a moment of just…nothing.
I like working in the café alone. It’s quiet. And calm. And I don’t have to try to make small talk with someone that I barely know. I mean, unless it’s extremely busy. Then, yeah…working alone would suck. But tonight isn’t going to be like that.
Looking around the café, I shake my head at myself. “Enough rest for one day.”
I’ve always had this idea in my head—well, more of a belief—that if I sit still for too long, all the demons I’ve been running from will catch up to me all at once. In my mind, I see them tackling me to the ground in dark, thick waves of pure horror. Draining the life from me, holding me hostage to my own experiences. Almost as if they are cutting my air supply off and suffocating me to death.
Until the night Van died, I had spent years running from my pain. Hiding it behind my bitchy face and snarky comments. Always hurting others before they ever got the chance to hurt me.
I guess I sort of became a bully in other people’s stories.
I don’t want to be like that anymore. I just want to be…peaceful.
In the past, I’d mute the hockey game just to avoid having to hear the mention of Walker James’s name. But tonight, I hit the volume button, turning it up enough to hear. I watch him move across the ice, knowing it’s him right away, before seeing his name stretched across his back with the number ninety-one below it.
My chest squeezes as he assists Link Sterns, who slaps it in. They celebrate before getting right back to attack mode. He’s found his place. And I’m so happy for him that he has.
Sighing, I tear my eyes from the TV and start wiping down all the tables for the second time tonight, trying my best to make the last leg of my shift pass by a little quicker, which is absolutely useless because the next hour passes at a snail’s pace. I check the clock every now and then. And finally, like watching paint dry on a wall…it’s time to close this bitch down. And I get to go home.
Turning the sign on the door, I grab my hoodie from behind the counter and pull it on. As soon as I walk outside into the night air, my nose is freezing. Winters in Georgia can get cold despite what people think because it’s in the South.
Locking the door, I give it one good pull to make sure it’s latched before I start my trek home. Ryann would have undoubtedly picked me up on her way back from Watson’s hockey game, but I didn’t want to be a bother. At some point, I’m going to need to get my own car. When I finally have the money.
I guess that’ll be sooner than I thought, thanks to Walker since he took care of the bill for Van to be cremated.
Pulling my hood up, I hear a vehicle coming up behind me. I don’t panic because this is Brooks. And though the hockey game ended a while ago, a lot of spectators are probably just now heading home.
The car gets closer and closer, but it doesn’t pass by me. And even though I try to push it down, that feeling of dread fills my gut, chilling me to the bone. As the car comes to a stop and I see the headlights in my peripheral vision, the hair on the back of my neck stands.
I’m overreacting. It’s probably just one of the girls on the dance team messing with me.
As much as I want to believe my own reassuring thoughts, that ends quickly when two doors open and I move my focus to the car to see two men, wearing black ski masks, running toward me.
For a second, I freeze. I don’t think I take a breath as paralyzing fear spreads through my body, taking up every ounce of my being.
But when I snap back to the present, I realize that no matter how useless it is, I need to at least try to run away. And so I do. Unfortunately for me, they are much faster than I am. And within seconds, I’m being dragged between two buildings. One of the men throws me down on the hard ground, and the other pulls my head upward by my hair.
“Be quiet. Or I’ll fucking kill you. Listen here, you fucking bitch,” the deep voice growls, tightening the grip on my hair. “Your brother owes us money. And since he’s fucking dead, guess that leaves you to pay up.”
The one standing above me takes his foot and drives it into my stomach. “Hand it over, you stupid bitch. Pay up. Pay for your brother’s fuckups.”
Reaching in my pocket, I take out every dollar I earned tonight. It’s not much, but maybe it’ll be enough for them to let me go.
He snatches it from my hand, and I wince when the one behind me pulls upward even more. My scalp screams in agony.
Taking his flashlight, he holds it over the money before his foot comes down again. This time, with a lot more force. “This is, like, forty fucking dollars!” he roars, kicking my side now.
I bite my lip so hard that I taste blood. I’m afraid if I cry out in pain, it’ll only make this all worse. I blink a few times, willing myself to wake up. Maybe this is a nightmare. Perhaps in a moment, I’ll wake up in my bedroom.
Yes. That must be it.
There’s no way that there’s a reality where someone could lose their brother and get attacked by his dealers in the same week. No. I mean, life sucks. But it’s not this tragic.
Any hope I had that this wasn’t real is taken away when I’m pulled to my feet, and the guy releases my hair, only to land a blow in the face—first in the nose. Next the lip. The cheek. The stomach again.
I lose track. I let my mind go to a place far, far away. A place where things like this don’t happen. Somewhere there are more good times than bad.
A mouth hovering right by my ear pulls me back to my shitty reality as a hand grips my cheeks, sending pain over my entire face as I feel wetness that I know isn’t tears on my flesh. It’s blood.
“Six fucking grand, bitch. That’s how much your useless brother owes us.” Squeezing my face harder, he shoves me backward, knocking me onto the ground yet again. “If you don’t have our money the next time we come back, you’ll be in a grave right next to him. Oh, and if you even think about going to the cops, we’ll kill every bitch in that house you live in.”
I don’t bother to tell them that my brother isn’t in a grave. Or that he’s free now. Not confined. Or in pain. Instead, I silently wince as his boot kicks my stomach once, then twice. And then, through blurry, tear-soaked eyes, I watch them get farther and farther away from me before they get in their car and squeal away.
Through the pain, I force myself to stand. Each step I take feels like a thousand knives are stabbing my body. But finally, I walk…and then run toward my house. Knowing I don’t want anyone to see me this way and that I’ll have to spend the next few days hiding from the entire world.
Until I can come up with their money.
*********
Walker
I let the music play, resting my hand on the wheel as I head away from the arena and toward Poppy’s place. I know I can’t go in. It’s late, and I can’t just show up whenever I want to.
But, fuck, I wish she had been at my game tonight. I hated that she wasn’t.
I had her. Three years ago, I fucking had her. She looked at me like I’d hung the moon and all the stars. Now, she’ll never see me that way. Even if we have moments, they always end.
You can’t change the past. That’s for damn sure.
Heading past the library, I drive down the hill and past the coffee shop. But when I turn the corner, I see a figure walking and limping. As soon as my headlights cast over them, they disappear between a few buildings.
Driving to where I saw them last, I peer into the shadows.
I should just go home.
Whoever I saw clearly doesn’t want to be seen. But I keep thinking about the fact that it looked like a woman.
What if she needs help?
“Fuck it,” I huff out before throwing my truck into park and climbing out. “Let’s hope this isn’t a serial killer,” I mutter, heading between the two buildings.
At first, I see nothing. But then the light of a phone catches my eye, and I squint.
“Hey, uh, are you all right?”
For a second, it’s silent before I see movement.
“Walker?” Poppy’s voice sobs so quietly that I almost don’t hear her. “Walker, is that you?”
On instinct, I run toward her, reaching her within seconds.
“Poppy, what the f—”
The moon peeks out from behind the cloudy night sky, illuminating her face. My heart drops, and I feel fucking sick as my eyes take in the bruises, cuts, and scrapes all over her beautiful face. Droplets of blood drip from the cut and down her chin.
“Who—” I stop, sucking in a breath. “Who fucking did this, Poppy? Who did this to you?! I will fucking kill someone right now.”
When I reach for her, she stumbles backward. “Please—” She puts her hands in front of her abdomen like a shield. “Please don’t touch me,” she cries. “It hurts.”
Dipping my face closer to hers, I cup a spot on her face with no marks. “What hurts, baby? Tell me what hurts.”
Her lip trembles as she falls against me, sobbing uncontrollably. “Everything,” she whimpers loudly. “Everything fucking hurts.”
Carefully, I slide my hands down her body and lift her up. With her head against my chest, I kiss her hair. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“No!” she screeches. “If you take me to the hospital, the police will get involved.” She shakes her head softly. “I can’t do that, Walker.”
Heading out of the alleyway, I walk to the passenger seat of my truck and gently slide her in. “I know where to take you.” I dip my nose close to hers. “Do you trust me?”
Her mouth quivers before she gives me the slightest nod. “Yes,” she cries. “I trust you.”
Pressing a kiss gently to her forehead, I carefully close the door and head to the driver’s side. I don’t want to press her for answers right now, but I know one thing to be true.
I’m going to fucking murder whoever did this to my girl.