Chapter 5
Chapter Five
The thing about hiding is that, sooner or later, someone always finds you.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Travis’s deep grumble makes me jump, and I curse under my breath. As much as I appreciate his stern-looking face on a normal day, he’s the last person I want to see right now.
I don’t think my nonchalant smile is too convincing. “Nothing, boss man.”
I’ve had a few moments in the past six years where I’ve wanted the ground to swallow me and never spit me back out. One of those happened two years ago. I was in Greensboro and accidentally spilled my soda on a child behind me in the line at a fast-food restaurant. A child . The poor boy must have been seven or eight. I still remember those eyes, glancing at me with confusion and fear.
If his mother didn’t beat me up on the spot—even though I’d apologized profusely and offered to pay for a new T-shirt—it was only because I’m a fast runner.
That was pretty bad, and this might be right up there with it.
As expected, Travis doesn’t buy my smile or my words. If his massive arms crossed in front of his equally enormous chest are any indication, not only does he not buy it, but he’s angry with me. Again.
I press my thighs together and hide my lower area with my intertwined hands, hoping and praying and then hoping some more that he doesn’t think I’m being a weirdo.
“All’s fine and dandy.” Not .
My boss watches me with quiet fury, standing very still right outside the door. The supply closet isn’t big, so if he took a single step, he’d be in my face in seconds. But he doesn’t move or say anything at all.
That familiar weight reappears in the middle of my chest. Flashbacks from that day in Jada’s class assault my head while my brain chants Bloody Allie with a vengeance.
Why did this have to happen now?
With the light coming from the bar at his back, Travis’s face is clouded in darkness. Even so, I don’t need to see it to know his left cheek is probably ticking with annoyance, or his eyes are narrowed at me.
I don’t need to look at him because I sneak glances at his face more often than I should.
“Why are you in the supply closet instead of working?” he asks in a tone that isn’t nice but also isn’t rude.
I know lying is bad—most of the time. I have been and still am forced to do it from time to time, even if it makes me hate myself every single day. So maybe that’s why, as Travis shifts on his feet and appears a whole foot taller, I tell him the truth.
“I just got my period.”
The words feel sharp on my tongue.
Travis stares ahead, not saying anything, waiting for me to elaborate. So, I take a shaky breath and remind myself Travis is a grown man who won’t make fun of me for this.
He doesn’t know what happened. He doesn’t know who I am. Who I really am.
“It stained my jeans. I was looking for something I could wear for the rest of my shift.”
When a beat of silence goes by, followed by five more, I’m pretty sure I broke him.
Everything I know about Travis Ward I have learned against my will. It’s not that I don’t care about him. It’s just that he doesn’t speak much, let alone share the details of his personal life with his co-workers. But Jude and Sandra have told me some things about him, and so has his uncle Neil, who he inherited the bar from. The old man stops by sometimes and is known for joking around—the polar opposite of his nephew.
Over the past thirteen months, I have learned that Travis is an ex-Navy SEAL and is thirty-seven, has two dogs, lives on a farm somewhere not far from The Lair, and hasn’t been in a relationship in years.
Thank you, Uncle Neil, for that last piece of information.
I also know he’s an only child, has no kids, and grew up with his uncle (no aunt) before he enlisted, which must mean he doesn’t have much experience with periods. I’m assuming.
That would explain the deafening silence and the way the air seems to shift around us, turning awkward for the first time since we met.
“But I’m fine,” I’m quick to amend. “If I could run to my apartment?—”
“What do you need?”
My only reply is to stand very still and wait for some huffing and puffing. But when none of that happens, I ask, “What do you mean?”
“From the store. What do you need?”
I’m pretty sure my eyes are bugging out of my skull as I stare at him, waiting for an “I’m just kidding. Go back to work” that never comes.
My boss, this stoic man who has never given me any reason to think he likes me in the first place, is now asking me what I need from the store?
“I don’t have all day, Allie,” he grumbles, snapping me back to the present.
“Sorry. Yeah, um, I need tampons. And a pair of leggings.”
Mortification settles in when I realize my underwear is ruined too. But there’s no way in hell I’m asking my boss to buy me panties of all things, so I guess I’m going commando for the rest of my shift. It wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve endured.
“What kind of tampons?” he asks, making me die a little bit inside.
I know periods are normal and not something to be ashamed of, and I agree. Truly. It took me many years to come to terms with this, and it was only thanks to Jada’s multiple interventions. But the damage my mother did to my experience with periods isn’t fully gone, which is why I wince at Travis’s words and wish there was literally anyone else in this supply closet with me right now.
“Travis, you really don’t need to?—”
“Regular ones?”
I swallow back my embarrassment. Well, then. “Yes. Thank you.”
“What size leggings do you wear?”
This definitely beats the spilling-soda-on-a-child moment.
My throat is so dry, my voice comes out a little raspy. “Medium.”
He doesn’t give me time to object, to insist that he doesn’t have to do this. He simply says, “I’ll be back in fifteen. Stay here if you want.” And then leaves.
I don’t have time to overthink what just happened because Sandra, one of our cooks and Jude’s wife, pops her head into the supply closet and gives me one of her motherly smiles.
“Oh, dear. Are you okay? Travis said you needed me.”
Travis said what now?
I smile back at Sandra because I may be a mess right now, but I love this woman to death. “I had a little accident.”
She stays with me for the time it takes Travis to come back, distracting me with stories about her one-year-old grandson.
I know where the conversation is heading before she asks. And when she does, I try my best to keep all the muscles on my face and body relaxed.
“Where were you from again, dear? I keep forgetting.”
I love Sandra and Jude with all I’ve got. Not only because they make the best hamburgers in town, but also because they are always there for me when I need them. Ran out of gas? They will lend me their car for a whole week if I ask. Can’t afford groceries? They will stock up my fridge until I get back on my feet.
They are some of the most generous people I have ever met, rivaling Jada and her husband, Paul, which is why lying to her makes me feel like the worst person alive.
“California.”
That’s not a lie.
“And how’s your family doing? Are they coming to visit soon?”
“They’re doing well.” My smile doesn’t waver as I picture Jada and Paul. They aren’t the people she’s asking about, but they are the only ones I consider my family. “Work keeps them busy, but we talk often.”
“Being busy with work is always good.” Her eyes wrinkle with her sincere smile, making the nausea in my stomach rise to my throat. “Our son is busy, too, but we’re hoping to visit next month.”
The change of direction in our conversation makes breathing easier.
“Going to the big city, huh? Are you sure Jude is ready for all those people speeding down the street, pretending to have somewhere important to be?” I tease her, knowing how her husband isn’t a fan of crowds. He loves small-town life a bit too much, and I don’t blame him because I do too.
She pushes back her glasses and sends me a playful look. “If he isn’t, I’ll make him.”
I laugh at that, imagining poor Jude being dragged through the Boston streets by his wife.
Their love is what I’ve always imagined for myself before reality hit me square in the face. Someone I could joke with, someone to hold me when I needed to crumble, someone to create a loving home with. Someone with a kind heart and good intentions. But that future isn’t for me, and I have to come to terms with that.
No one deserves to be with a liar.
“You could come with us,” Sandra offers next. “To visit our son.”
My heart pounds. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“You really wouldn’t, dear. The more, the merrier.” Her smile hides a hint of worry. “You never go anywhere, never leave Bannport. A change of scenery could be good for you. I don’t want to overstep, of course, but please know you’re always welcome where Jude and I are.”
My eyes start to sting, and I know it’s not my hormones giving me a hard time. “Thank you.”
Just then, Travis walks into the supply closet. He doesn’t bother with pleasantries. “Your stuff.”
My heart jumps when his fingers brush mine as he passes me a grocery bag.
When he turns to the older woman, his voice softens as much as it’s able to. “Thank you, Sandra. You can go back to work.”
She gives me a reassuring smile as she leaves the supply closet, squeezing Travis’s forearm as she goes.
I peek inside the bag. A box of tampons and a pair of black leggings, just like I asked. Before I can say anything, he starts turning around.
“Wait! Travis, wait.” I walk up to him awkwardly, feeling dirty and sticky and everything that is wrong with this world, but not wanting to part ways without telling him, “Thank you for going to the store for me. You didn’t have to, but I really appreciate it. How much was it? I’ll pay you back.”
I resist the urge to give him a quick hug because we aren’t there yet. I don’t think we’ll ever be, and that’s okay.
He doesn’t reply immediately, those hard eyes scanning every inch of my face. And when he finally does, my shoulders sag. “Charlie has been covering for you. Hurry up.”
“But I?—”
“You don’t have to pay me back, Allie.” The firm way he says my name sends a chill down my spine. “Go back to work. We’re crowded.”
I try to keep a smile on my face but fail.
Out of all the men in the world my heart could beat for, it had to be my asshole of a boss. Of course.
I’m not in love with Travis. I know where we stand, and I’m not looking to get my heart broken anytime soon—or ever. I’ve had enough drama over the past few years to last me several lifetimes, and a silly workplace crush doesn’t need to be added to the mix.
He might be a full-on grouch most of the time, but he isn’t unnecessarily mean. He doesn’t treat his staff or his customers with disrespect, and he doesn’t think he’s better than anyone else. He’s open to feedback from his uncle—and even from us—and he puts a lot of care into making sure The Lair runs smoothly. Our paychecks arrive on time, and he splits the tips equally—a luxury I haven’t experienced many times before.
Travis might not be easy to be around sometimes, but he isn’t a bad man. A bad man wouldn’t have bought me tampons and new leggings while I was in distress. He would’ve told me periods aren’t a big deal and to go back to work.
So what if I steal furtive glances at him more often than I should?
Maybe I’m just confused. That must be it. It’s not like he would ever be interested in one of his employees—one who happens to be twelve years younger than him and a massive liar at that. Not that he’s aware of the latter, but the point still stands.
Travis and I are what we are—boss and employee—and that’s it. It’s enough, and it will continue to be.
I can’t afford to be anything else to anyone.