4. Kelsey
Chapter four
Kelsey
I’d put some sheets on my new mattress, but even the nicest sheets couldn’t cover up the fact that the only piece of furniture I owned was a second-hand mattress on the floor. And Leah was right. That was kind of sad.
The sight made me miss my house in Reno. I’d put a lot of effort into keeping our home cozy yet pristine. Sure, Ryan had picked out the furniture and the colors and most of the decorations, but it had still been my home.
I pulled the blanket over myself, ignoring the slightly damp smell, and tossed around to find a comfortable position. God, how I yearned for the comfort of our king-size bed with the expensive memory-foam topper and silky soft sheets.
Did I make the right decision to leave all that behind? Or was my attempt at a new start just another entry in the long list of Kelsey-style fuckups?
Burying my face in the pillow, I pushed the doubts away. I could not allow myself to mull this over tonight. I needed sleep. The previous night spent on the cold, hard floor had already taken a toll on me, and I couldn’t afford another restless night. If I wanted to make a good impression on my first day at my new job, I needed sleep.
Determined to make my overanxious brain shut up, I pressed my eyes shut and pulled the blanket up to my chin.
A faint popping noise made me sit straight up again. There was some more popping and a long whizz, followed by colored lights outside my window. Of course. The Memorial Day fireworks!
I couldn’t resist the temptation and got out of bed to look at the night sky. Pops and cracks and bangs scattered colors across the night sky, spirals of blue and starbursts of pink. I had loved fireworks since my childhood, but I dragged myself away from the pretty sight and back into bed.
I needed to be an adult about this, so that I wouldn’t mess up my first day at Liberty Diner.
With closed eyes, I listened to the sounds of the fireworks and found them almost calming. Sleep crept up on me, making my body heavy and my mind hazy. Then the symphony of pops and cracks was disrupted.
A loud noise, it sounded like some kind of drum, and— Violins ? Classical music—very loud classical music—was coming from the apartment next door.
I sighed, pressing the pillow over my ears, trying to doze back off. Trumpets started blasting. How the hell was I supposed to sleep, when an entire orchestra blasted Mozart or Beethoven or whatever that was, at concert-hall volume, right next door? This Quentin Avery, whom everyone was telling me was such a nice guy. First, he had rudely ignored me and now he was blasting his stupid music in the middle of the night.
It had to stop. With an angry huff, I threw the blanket back and got up. Still barefoot, I made my way down the walkway to the door of apartment five and knocked.
No response .
I knocked again, louder, harder.
Nothing.
I banged against the door, channeling my inner SWAT team, and that did the trick.
A moment later, I found myself eye to eye, face-to-face, with my next-door neighbor, Quentin Avery.
I’d seen him from afar already, but standing three feet away from him was a different story. Scar tissue covered the right half of his face, raised ridges and puckered valleys of skin stretched too tight. The crisscross of rough scars ran down his neck and disappeared beyond the collar of his button-down shirt.
But I only paid attention to his injuries with a passing glance because I was too distracted by how damn attractive the rest of the man looked: strong jawline, soft lips, and light-brown eyes, almost amber. Warm but with a gaze so intense it made a breath catch in my throat.
“Yes?” His irritated tone jolted me back to reality, reminding me that I’d been looking at him for far too long. I tried to compose myself, but he had noticed my shameless ogling. I could tell by the guarded look on his face.
The music was still playing in the background. Right, the music . I came here to yell at him, so that was what I was going to do. His handsome face was no excuse to torture me with this pretentious music.
“Listen, you’ve got to turn this noise down, okay? I don’t know what has gotten into you to blast freaking Mozart at the entire apartment building, but nobody wants to hear it.”
He crossed his arms, looking just as annoyed by me as I was by him. “That’s not Mozart.” His tone, half amused, half mocking, made me even angrier.
“I don’t care what it is!” I snapped. “I’m trying to sleep, so turn it down already.”
He looked at me for a moment, and I looked back, trying my hardest to not get distracted by his mesmerizing eyes again.
Then he turned away abruptly. “Get some earplugs,” he said and closed the door in my face.
The audacity! Fine, if he decided to be an ass about this, I would take my complaints to a higher authority. Fuming, I stomped over to Arlene’s door. Our landlady would surely be able to rope him in.
Arlene was already in a nightgown and bathrobe when she greeted me. “Kelsey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“Do you hear that?” I pointed toward Quentin’s apartment.
“The music, you mean? Yes, that must be Quentin. He sometimes listens to that kind of music.”
“It’s too loud. I’m trying to sleep, but it’s impossible when this man is blasting his music one wall away,” I complained. “I already asked him to turn it down, but he brushed me off. Arlene, can you please do something about this?”
Instead of the understanding smile I had expected from my kind landlady, Arlene looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry it’s keeping you up, but Quentin needs that music right now.”
I scowled. “He needs it?”
“It’s the fireworks,” Arlene said, then she paused. “I’m not sure how much I should tell you. It’s private stuff, you know.”
I was confused. “What do the fireworks have to do with this?”
Arlene took a deep breath. “It’s the noise. The bangs. He doesn’t like that. The music helps him to stay calm. He always puts it on, on days like this. Fourth of July, New Year’s Eve…”
I scoffed. “A grown man is scared of fireworks?”
Arlene furrowed her brows and pressed her lips together. “He’s a war veteran, love. He’s been in Afghanistan. And that’s how it is sometimes. They return a little different. ”
“Oh.” Realization hit me, making me feel like the worst person on earth. I had just cussed out a traumatized veteran. How stupid do you have to be to not make that connection? “I had no idea he used to be a soldier. He doesn’t seem the type. Is that when he got the scars?”
Arlene shot me a very critical look. “Kelsey, that is none of your business. Go back to your apartment and watch the fireworks. It will all be over soon enough.”
I returned to my apartment with my tail between my legs. The thought that his burns might’ve been a war injury had never even crossed my mind. I still couldn’t imagine the man next door in a uniform. He seemed so… gentle. Rude, yes. Stand-offish, for sure. But not the type of guy you envision assaulting Fallujah.
The classical music was still playing. I listened to it for a while, and the longer I did, the more I liked it. It wasn’t the kind of music I usually enjoyed, but it really was calming. I was starting to understand why Quentin used it to distract himself.
The fireworks show in the town center came to an end, and shortly afterward, the music stopped as well. I sat on my mattress, wide awake, and stared at the wall I shared with Quentin, wondering how he was feeling. Was he okay? Would he get any sleep tonight, or would he be haunted by memories of his past?
I even contemplated going over and checking on him, but I was probably the last person he wanted to see. The thought of my little tantrum made me wince a little now. The stress of leaving Ryan and being all on my own for the first time in over a decade must’ve gotten to me because yes, I could be a bit prickly sometimes, but I usually wasn’t that confrontational. First, I’d stared at him like some gawker at a car crash, then I yelled at him for listening to music in his own home.
I had to do something to set this right and find a way to apologize. I didn’t want to start some kind of neighbor war .
But first, I would have to survive my first shift at the Liberty Diner.
It was a forty-minute walk from the Sunset Apartments to the Liberty Diner and Leah owned a car, so the decision to carpool was easy.
A few minutes past seven in the morning, I climbed out of Leah’s beat-up Honda Civic, nervous but ready to prove myself. Most of the shops on Main Street were still closed, and the only person out and about was an elderly woman walking her golden retriever.
The morning air was still cool, and I shivered a bit when I followed Leah across the street.
Leah unlocked the front door and went straight to the storage room. She dug out a turquoise uniform shirt for me, which was a little too large, then she explained how the shifts were arranged, how the tables were numbered, and how the cash register was operated.
“Don’t ever push this button. It tends to get stuck, and then the machine prints out a bunch of garbage and won’t stop until you get a fork and poke the button to get it loose again,” Leah explained.
I nodded, but I had the gut feeling I would accidentally push that button at least once in the upcoming days.
A few minutes later, Izzy arrived, greeted us with a nod and a grunt, and disappeared into the kitchen. Shortly after Izzy, Patrick showed up. He told Leah a story about some guy named Oliver. They both laughed before Patrick joined Izzy in the kitchen.
I helped Leah set the tables, trying hard not to mess anything up, then it was opening time. I tugged at the sleeves of my shirt and pulled a loose strand of hair back into my ponytail.
“Don’t worry. You’ll do fine,” Leah said as she flipped the little sign in the door from a red Closed to a green Open .
I nodded, trying to show an optimistic smile. It had been a while since my last waiting job, but this was just like riding a bike, right? I was determined to prove to Izzy that I deserved this chance. It was only a job as a waitress in a small family diner, but it was a start. Salary plus tips wasn’t riches, but if I was frugal, it was enough to start rebuilding my life.
Before I could properly brace myself, an elderly man appeared at the door.
“Oh, hi, Francis,” Leah greeted him. “Francis usually comes here every day to eat breakfast, but he’s been in the hospital for the last week and a half. Glad to have you back, Francis. How are the kidneys doing?”
“My doctor says I need to drink more. Can the new girl here get me an extra-large soda?”
He smiled at me.
I wasn’t sure the doctor had meant soda when he had issued that order, but I was glad to make myself busy.
Soon after, more customers poured through the doors, and I tried my best to keep up with the work and introduce myself with a friendly smile every time someone noticed me as the new girl.
By the end of the day, my feet hurt, and my arms felt like lead, but as far as I could tell, I hadn’t been a total disaster.
At three o’clock, the waitress for the evening shift arrived, a middle-aged woman with short auburn hair, named Denise, and I could finally clock out.
Just when I changed out of my uniform, Leah called for me.
“Come back here, Kelsey. Let’s count the money so that you can take your tips home with you.”
Leah opened the cash register and counted the dollar bills with quick and steady movements .
“Three hundred twenty-six dollars and nine cents,” she announced before she printed out the sales report. “Against two fifty-four, thirty-five. That’s seventy-one dollars and seventy-four cents in tips for you. Not bad for your first day!”
I smiled as Leah handed me the money. “Neat. Twenty-two percent on the dot.”
“What?”
“I made exactly twenty-two percent in tips.”
Leah looked at me surprised, almost shocked. “Did you just calculate that in your head?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, math is kind of my thing.”
Leah squinted her eyes then pulled out her phone. “Let me check that real quick… Damn, you are right. It’s exactly twenty-two percent. Color me impressed, Mrs. Math Genius.”
“It’s a neat party trick. Otherwise, I haven’t found much use for that skill.”
“I can think of plenty of uses for that skill, Kel. Your talents are wasted here.”
“Don’t say that. I’m happy Izzy gave me a chance. I don’t want him to think I’m some arrogant math nerd or something. I don’t have talents, just a knack for numbers.”
Leah stared at me with furrowed brows. “I think we need to work on your self-confidence, but fine, have it your way. I won’t tell Izzy or anyone else that you’re a genius.”
“I’m not a—”
“Yeah, yeah. Now, go home before I suggest you as a Fields Medal candidate.”
“Are you not coming?” I asked.
“No, sorry. I’m afraid you’ll have to walk home. I’m doing a double shift today. I need the money.”
I was sweaty and exhausted after my very first workday at the diner, but I didn’t return straight home. Instead, I walked to the bus station and took the bus to Lakeview. Following my phone’s directions, I found a small electronics shop and bought a nice pair of noise-canceling headphones. The purchase made a pretty big dent in my meager savings, but if it meant I could go back to being civil with Quentin Avery, it was worth it.
I spent the rest of the afternoon on my laptop, scrolling through Craigslist, on the hunt for some second-hand furniture, but I kept one ear on the noises outside.
Around six o’clock, I heard a car pulling into the parking lot, and a quick look out the window confirmed it was him. I watched him walk toward the entrance and felt my heartbeat speed up. Of course, I only felt nervous because I was about to enter peace negotiations with him, not because I remembered how his beautiful brown eyes had made me feel a little hot.
After waiting a few more minutes so I wouldn’t come across like a stalker, I put on my shoes and walked over to his apartment. Time to extend the olive branch . My face was flushed before I even reached his door, and I knocked a lot more hesitantly than the previous night. God, this was going to be embarrassing. Just as I contemplated turning away and pretending that our petty argument had never happened might be the better strategy, he opened the door, and I froze on the spot.
As soon as he saw who was in front of him, he squinted in irritation, and I lost my thread completely. I’d prepared this nice little speech, friendly but cool, but the words were wiped from my brain the moment he appeared in the doorframe. Damn it. What was it about this man that made me turn into an even bigger airhead than usual ?
Quentin raised his eyebrows, waiting for me to say something.
I took a deep breath. “Uh… Hi.”
“Hello,” Quentin said, still clearly confused as to why I was standing in front of his door again.
Another moment of awkward silence passed as I tried to find the right words. I’m sorry I yelled at you for having PTSD , I wanted to say. I’m sorry I stared at you like you’re some kind of freak show. It wasn’t because of your scars. It was because your eyes have the most fascinating color.
But none of that was remotely appropriate, so I just handed him the box with the headphones inside.
He took it but looked at it like he suspected a pipe bomb inside. “What is this?”
“Headphones,” I said. “So you can listen to your music without angry women banging on your door in the middle of the night.”
His gaze lingered on me, filled with uncertainty, as if he was trying to judge the honesty of my intentions. I tried smiling at him, but it felt terribly forced.
“I’m Kelsey, by the way. I just moved to Brightwater.” If stumbling out of a bus with nothing but a backpack can be called moving .
He did smile back, but it was the sort of uneasy smile you show a homeless guy after not giving him any money.
“Quentin. Quentin Avery.”
“Yeah, I know who you are. Arlene has told me about you and… why you listened to that music last night.”
His expression became guarded. “Did she?”
I raised my hands, trying to appease him. “Just the basics. Nothing private.”
Fantastic . That had clearly upset him even more. Of course he didn’t like that Arlene had aired out his issues to a complete stranger. Why did I have to mention that? “Anyway, I wanted to say sorry. With the headphones, I mean. Sorry for last night.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Did he, though? He looked mostly confused, as though he was still trying to figure out if I was playing a prank on him. My grand gesture wasn’t going over as well as I’d hoped. I needed to retreat before this awkward conversation became even more uncomfortable.
“Um… okay. Bye, then. Have a nice afternoon.”
“Yes, you too,” he said politely.