Chapter 3 #3
I always worry if customers can tell when I’m frazzled.
While I’m turning a profit, even with all of the menu additions, the higher utility bills from staying open longer, and the new equipment I ordered for the ice cream stand, I still haven’t figured out the part I promised my mother I would. My time.
I need to start delegating responsibilities and training Noel or Hailey to run the shop so I can have a day off. I’m not sure what I would do with one, though. I abandoned most of my hobbies years ago, and I don’t have friends. I mean, ones not named Trent or Caruthers, at least.
I love Dylan, of course. I feel good around Aro.
Hawke is one of my safe places. And Kade and Hunter would never fail me.
Other than that, I think I should want friends, but I really don’t.
Maybe I just find family easier because they have to accept me.
With anyone else, I don’t like half the shit that comes out of my mouth, and I go home feeling like I spent hours trying to make a relationship happen that I didn’t want anyway.
I could’ve spent that time cleaning something.
Or researching flavor combinations. Or exercising or sleeping or reading or peacefully walking and getting lost in the breeze while listening to music in my earbuds.
Every single one of those things more enjoyable than dying slowly at some lunch or movie outing that just ends up feeling like something else I had to fit into my schedule.
Maybe I’ll just go jogging tonight, instead. Ride my bike to Eagle Point Park and run through there. It’s closed to everything but foot traffic at night. Jared won’t find me. He still hasn’t learned that he can track everyone he loves on an app on his phone. God help us when he does.
Pain strikes in my stomach, and I exhale. I haven’t eaten since before noon. I pull my ponytail out, fluff my hair, and tie it back up again before removing my apron.
Lucas probably isn’t even at the gym. Or maybe he was and now he’s gone. Or perhaps he won’t work out till later. Who knows…
Several dark spots spread across the mirror, some in clusters and others splattered out like stars in a sky, and I use the apron to brush at them. They don’t come off. I tsk. The mirror is deteriorating. I wish we could get the damn thing off the wall.
I check the clock again. 8:02.
I sigh, turning back to my reflection. Hawke was certain that removing the mirror would damage the brick, not to mention the nightmare we might find in the walls, like rats or mold.
I can only hope he was teasing me. I want to be aboveboard and have a clean place, but a discovery like that could destroy my business.
And…I also feared finding something I couldn’t afford to fix three years ago when I opened the place, either. Like a structural problem.
I don’t really want to potentially damage a wall now that I’m open full time. Construction would hurt the traffic trying to come in here when I’m just getting going.
Fingerprints dot the edge of the mirror on the top right. I lean in, narrowing my eyes. It’s four fingers, minus the thumb. As if someone clutched it from behind. I frown, the images of various horror movies making me shudder.
I wipe the prints off too.
Moving into the kitchen, I toss the apron into the laundry and grab my backpack. Stepping into the bathroom, I change, slip my earbuds into a pocket, and push any long bangs back over the top of my head. But as I reach for the cap, I stop, realizing it’s not with me. He took it this morning.
I frown. I have others at home, but…that one was nice and broken in.
He still hasn’t given me my compass back, either. Does that mean the hat is still technically mine? I smile to myself and dash back into the shop. Maybe it would be warranted to go to the gym after all and take it back.
I charge through the door of the kitchen to grab my phone, but as I pick it up, I see the empty Lost and Found box again. I forgot to ask Hailey or Noel who came in for it. I thought I would’ve noticed—it’s a small shop.
Just then, ringing pierces my brain, and I gasp. Dylan appears on the screen, and I exhale, swiping. “Hello?”
“Are you coming?”
I switch off the kitchen light. “Maybe.”
“Well, I’m waiting.” Chatter and music play in the background. “And I have to be back by ten.”
“I didn’t ask you to work out with me tonight.”
This was her idea.
But she just goes on, not hearing me. “Can you bring some leftovers?” she asks. “Hunter snuck me away behind the archery range, and I missed dinner.”
I hang up on her. Unbelievable.
Then, it occurs to me I could’ve asked her if Lucas was there.
I’m glad I didn’t. I don’t want her thinking that would have made my decision for me.
A text rolls in. Hurry! she writes. I’m so hungry!
I growl. “This is stupid.” I slide my phone into my pants. “Go exercise so you can go to sleep.”
I start to leave, mumbling to myself, “Your brother paid for a membership. You’re allowed to use it.”
But then I circle back and throw some leftover croissants into a paper bag and stuff them into my backpack.
In three minutes, I walk through the doors of Astrophysics a block away.
Heading up to the counter, I tap the device with my membership card.
“Welcome.” The same young woman from last night greets me. “Towel?”
“Please.” She pulls one from under the counter, and I take it. “Thank you.”
After I secure my backpack and jacket in the locker room, I fit in my earbuds and climb the stairs to the track with the bag of croissants. I glance around for Dylan, but try to keep my shoulders relaxed so it doesn’t look like I’m looking for someone else.
Noah Van der Berg lies on a bench, pressing a bar up and down above his chest. He exercises with Dylan sometimes, part of their race training. Where is she?
Then, Farrow Kelly rises off a leg curl machine far to my left. He stares at me.
I glance back at Noah, who drops the bar back into his cradle and sits up, meeting my gaze too.
Unease settles into my stomach, and I stop breathing for a moment.
Oh, no.
Quickly, I tap out a text to Dylan.
Where are you?”
The hair on my neck rises. Darting my gaze up, I see Farrow and Noah walking straight toward me, one from the left, and one from my right.
“No, no, no…”
A notification pops up.
Oh, I’m at camp, she writes. I sent my associates.
My chest caves. “Dylan,” I whimper under my breath.
Trust me, she says next.
And just as both men close in, I spot Lucas breezing past on the track, his chin lifting in greeting. My heart thuds, and he almost looks like he’s about to smile, but his gaze flickers to the boys, and casually, he turns back to the track, disappearing.
I blink slow and hard. I’m gonna kill her.
I’m going…to kill her.
When I open my eyes, Noah is there, and I’m pretty sure he speed-walked to beat Farrow. “Hi,” he says, stopping in front of me.
Noah Van der Berg is about my age, maybe a few years older, and the star of JT Racing, my brother’s company.
Jared recruited Noah after he met Noah’s father, who constructs custom motorcycles for the Motocross circuit.
My brother makes engines, so JT Racing and Van der Berg Extreme are just short of being married to each other.
And Noah, I hear, leapt at the chance to leave his secluded childhood home in the Rocky Mountains to come race for my family.
That’s about all I know—other than I’ve seen him with at least two different girls on the back of his motorcycle since I returned home a month ago. We haven’t formally met.
I search my brain for how to make them go away, but Farrow finally steps up to his side. “Take off, Van der Berg.” He throws the other guy a look through hooded eyes. “I’m working out with her.” Then to me, “Dylan sent me.”
“Yeah, she sent me too,” Noah retorts.
Farrow steels his spine, looking away and grumbling, “Fuckin’ Dylan…”
Yeah, pretty much. This is her plan, because she thinks two good-looking men at my side will make Lucas jealous.
Or it could make him not talk to me at all! Did she think about that?
I throw the croissants into the nearby trash can, avoiding both of their eyes. “What did she tell you?” I whisper.
Farrow shrugs. “She said you just moved back home, and that we should be friends.”
Noah adds, “And I’m not allowed to make a pass unless—”
“Until…” Farrow interrupts him before looking back to me. “Until it’s very obvious that you want me to.”
I feel my face flush, and I almost roll my eyes to distract from it, but I resist.
Farrow Kelly might be only twenty, but there’s something in his eyes that tells me his game level far exceeds Noah’s, and it’s not even in regards to women.
The Green Street tattoo—simply the word RIVER etched with a line stricken down the middle—stretches vertically on the left side of his neck. Like Mace’s.
Green Street is a gang in Weston, the dilapidated mill town across the river that’s been hanging by a thread since a flood drove most of its citizens away more than twenty years ago.
Houses sit abandoned, businesses remain closed, and whatever law does exist is only for hire.
I don’t know what goes on at Green Street, but I do know Farrow has a seat at the adult table and his blond hair, a shade lighter than Noah’s, is often under a black ski cap at night.
Light hair doesn’t disguise the blood splatter, does it?
But they both have eyes that look like they’re constantly smiling even when they aren’t, and I don’t think that’s fake.
“She also said I should give you a ride home,” Noah continues, ignoring Farrow, “so your brothers know you’re safe.”
“A ride home on your motorcycle?” Farrow teases him.
“Jared likes me,” Noah points out to him. “In fact, all of her brothers do. And all of her family.”
“Nuh-uh,” Farrow barks at him. “Dylan and Hunter are mine.”
My gaze flies to Noah.
“No, you don’t get Dylan,” he continues to argue. “I share a bathroom with her.”
“Fuck off, Stoner Mountain Boy.”
“I don’t smoke weed, you little shit!”
“You’re from Colorado,” Farrow bickers.
I can’t help it, but my eyebrows are up by my hairline, amusement taking over.
I’ve seen them both around, been in rooms they’ve been in and heard them talk to Dylan, Hunter, Jared, et cetera, but I’ve never dealt with them personally.
I’m not really intimidated, though. They remind me of my brothers.
And Kade, Hunter, and Hawke, for that matter. I don’t know about Farrow, but Jared obviously trusts Noah enough to let him live under his roof with his teenage daughter, when she’s not at college or the camp, that is.
“You guys can stay if you want,” I tell them, veering around Farrow, toward the track. “Or you can go. I’m just exercising, and I don’t need a ride home, but thank you.”
Noah sidles up to my right. “I’ll stay,” he tells me. “In case you change your mind.”
“I’m here anyway,” I hear Farrow say just behind me.
“Wanna jog?” Noah gestures to the empty lanes.
I take a quick glance, not seeing Lucas. Did he get off the track?
He might not talk to me if they’re hanging around.
But…at least this way, it doesn’t look like I came here looking for him. Noah and Farrow give good cover, I guess.
I nod, and Noah walks with me.
“Ah, shit,” I hear Farrow say. He stops, staring at his phone. “I’ll catch up.”
“You mean at the weights, because mafia meatheads can’t do cardio?” Noah taunts.
Farrow doesn’t respond, just shoots Noah a look as he grabs himself between his legs and jerks once before spinning around and walking away, his phone to his ear.
Lucas breezes past, casting us a sideways glance, and then he’s gone again.
Goosebumps spread up my arms, into my hair. He doesn’t look happy. Maybe Dylan does know what she’s doing.
Noah holds out his hand, formally introducing himself. “Noah Van der Berg.”
I look back at him just as I see Lucas glance back at us.
I smile, shaking his hand. “Quinn Caruthers. Nice to finally meet you.”