5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Kayla
My first week at Patty’s feels like a blur. The days blend into each other with the constant buzz of plates, orders, and coffee machines. I barely have time to think, and honestly, that’s exactly what I need.
This morning, I’m sitting at the table in the boarding house, poking at a bowl of oatmeal that’s long since gone cold. Dean, the guy who runs the place, walks in, his hair damp from a shower, and his notebook tucked under his arm. He’s got the kind of easy confidence that makes me think nothing ever rattles him, though I’ve seen him get plenty worked up when someone tries to skip out on rent.
“Morning,” he says, settling the notebook on the counter and pouring himself a cup of coffee.
“Morning,” I mumble back, pushing the oatmeal around with my spoon.
“You’re working again today, huh?” He leans across the counter, his mug cradled in one hand.
“Yeah. Every day, it feels like.” I reply, forcing a faint smile.
“You don’t have to work this much, you know? I mean, most people staying here are scraping by, but…” he gestures vaguely toward me. “I get the feeling you’re not exactly hurting for cash.” I stiffen slightly, caught off guard by his bluntness. I glance down at my mug, running my finger along the rim.
“I’m fine. It’s not about the money.”
Dean raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push. “So, what is it about?”
I hesitate, the words sitting heavy in my chest. I don’t owe him an explanation, but part of me wants to say it out loud—just to hear it for myself.
“I just…need something to do. Something to keep my hands busy while I figure things out.” He nods slowly, like he gets it. “Fair enough. Work’s good for that.”
“Yeah,” I say softly staring into my coffee, “I guess it makes me feel useful.”
“Useful is good. Is the bed in your room alright? Not to lumpy or whatever? Because I don’t mind swapping it over for one of our newer beds if it helps you sleep?” Dean’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and I blink up at him.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Just struggling to sleep, new place and all.” I say quickly, forcing the words out.
“Tell you what, I’ll give you a ride to Patty’s this morning. Save you the walk.
“Really?” The offer catches me off guard, but I nod. “Thanks, that’d be great.”
“No problem,” he says, pulling a chair out and sitting across from me. “By the way, you sticking around another week? I need to know if you’re re-booking your room?”
“Oh—yeah, if that’s okay. I’m not ready to move on just yet.” Dean waves a hand like it’s no big deal. “Works for me. Just settle with me before Friday, and we’re good.”
I offer a faint smile, but my thoughts drift to my phone, sitting untouched in my bag.
The ride to Patty’s is quiet, the hum of Dean’s truck filling the space between us. I keep my hands folded in my lap, my phone zipped away in my bag, though the weight of Logan’s unanswered messages feels heavier with every passing mile. I’ll reply soon. I have to. Just…not yet.
As Dean pulls up to the diner, he glances over at me. “Hey, a friend of mine’s throwing a party at one of the club’s tonight. You should come.”
“A party?” I ask, caught off guard.
“Yeah, it’s her birthday. Nothing crazy—well, okay, it might be crazy, but it’ll be fun. You’ve been here a week, right? If you’re thinking about sticking around, you should meet some people.”
I hesitate, chewing on my bottom lip. I’ve been keeping to myself since I got here, and I know I can’t hide out forever. If I want to stay, I need to start making an effort—Braden would be berating me, and I can do social. New place, new me? Ugh… I can do this. Friendly chats with the locals at the diner has been fine, mostly. It can’t be any different then… Did you watch that show last night? Wild, right? Gooo, local sports team. Yay, sports.
“Okay,” I say finally, “I’ll come.”
Dean grins. “Cool. I’ll be ready to leave around eight. Dress to dance.”
I climb out of the truck and step inside Patty’s, the bell above the door jingling as I push it open. The familiar smells of coffee and baked goods waft around me like a blanket, and I take a deep breath, ready to throw myself back into the chaos. If I can do this social thing then maybe, just maybe, I can fire a text back? A snap to the boys, A post on my reels?
No…No, it’s too soon. What am I getting myself into?
Back at my room in the boarding house, I kick off my sneakers and collapse onto the bed, grateful for the little window of time before heading out. Work today at Patty’s had been a blur, but a satisfying one. There’s something grounding about pouring coffee, taking orders, and making sure the syrup dispenser is always full. As I stretch out, I catch sight of the shopping bags piled neatly in the corner. A small, guilty smile tugs at my lips. During the week, I’d made a trip to the mall for a few “essentials”. It had started out with some basics –jeans, sneakers, T-shirts, but somewhere along the way, I’d veered into a complete wardrobe overhaul. I push myself up and dig through the bags, pulling out the black dress I’d splurged on. It’s sleek and simple, knee length, with thin straps, and a neckline that toes the line between elegant and daring. I’ll admit, it had felt a little indulgent at the time, but now I’m glad I went overboard. At least I have options. Before getting ready, I grab my phone from the nightstand and flop back onto the bed. My thumb hovers over logan’s name in my contacts, the cursor blinking in an empty text box. I type.
Mac: Hey, how’s it going?
No. [Message Deleted.] Too flippant.
Mac: I hope you’re okay. I’m sorry I haven’t replied sooner.
No. [Message Deleted.] Nope, can’t say that.
I don’t know what to say.
Maybe I should go with
Mac: Hey Handsome, I miss you. Sorry I fucked up and left. I’m so scared, Lo.. So damn scared that…
Also, a big fat nope. [Message Deleted]
I sigh, setting the phone face down on the bed. It feels like no matter what I write, it won’t be enough—or maybe it’ll be too much. Guilt gnaws at me, but I shove it down. Not tonight. I’ll figure it out tomorrow. I grab the bottle of hair dye, having noticed some roots showing through earlier. I Push myself up, grab my towel and head for the shower. The hot water feels amazing, washing away the grime from my work at the diner and the tension in my shoulders. I go back over making sure I haven’t accidentally destroyed their shower with dye. When I step out the mirror is fogged up, my reflection is a blurry outline. I almost prefer it that way. Back in my room, I dry my hair and slip into my black dress, smoothing it over my hips. The fit is perfect, hugging my body in all the right places. I add a pair of silver heels and grab the matching clutch, I keep the makeup light—just a touch of mascara, some eyeliner, and a swipe of nude lipstick. When I look in the mirror, I barely recognize myself. It’s been a while since I’ve dressed up like this. Too long, maybe.
I head downstairs, the sound of my heels clicking against the wooden steps echoing in the quiet house. Dean and Clay are waiting by the door, both leaning casually against the frame. Dean grins when he sees me, his blue button-up rolled to the elbows, looking effortlessly cool. Clay, taller and broader, gives a low whistle.
“Damn, Kayla,” Dean says with a smirk. “I didn’t know we was bringing a celebrity tonight.” I roll my eyes but smile despite myself. “Let’s just go before I change my mind.” They both laugh, and Dean holds the door open for me. As I step out into the night, I let myself relax, the nerves from earlier fading with each step. Maybe tonight will be good for me. A chance to let go, even if just for a little while.
Dean pulls his car up to the curb and my eyebrows lift slightly. It’s not the same car he used last time. This one is a sleek, black Porche SUV, polished so well it practically glows under the streetlights. Even the rain seems to intimidated to stick to it. The back door is already open, so I slide in, catching the scent of leather and something crisp—pine needles? Dean clearly takes pride in his car. Not a stray candy wrapper in sight. It’s the kind of perfection that makes me feel like I should apologize for existing in it.
Dean and Clay are quiet as we pull away, and it’s the kind of silence that presses down.
“So, Dean, nice car. How’d you swing it? Lottery win? Bank Heist?” I ask, keeping my tone light. Dean glances at me through the rearview mirror, his lips twitching. “Something like that,” he says.
“Consolation prize from our dad,” Clay cuts in, smirking as he twists in his seat to look at me. “You know, to make up for being a colossal prick.” Dean sighs, shaking his head. “Thanks, Clay. Real smooth.” I open my mouth to apologize for steering into touchy territory, but Clay beats me to it. “Relax Kayla, it’s not like you’re the one handing out Porsche shaped apologies.” He winks, and I can’t help but smile. Maybe this isn’t going to be as tense as I thought.
“So, where exactly are we going?” I ask.
Dean shoots me a quick grin. “A club called The Night Owl.”
We turn the corner, and the club comes into view. It’s not just packed; it’s a madhouse. Neon lights flash in a chaotic rhythm, and the line to get in snakes around the back.
“Don’t worry,” Clay says, hopping out as soon as Dean parks the car. “We’ve got connections.” I step out feeling the cool night air against my skin. Clay jogs around to my side, “Milady.” He bows, offering me his arm with a flourish.
“You’re ridiculous.” I laugh, feeling my shoulders loosen. Dean hands his keys to the valet, then falls into step beside me.
At the entrance, a towering guy with a clipboard greets us. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite Thompsons.” he booms. Then his eyes land on me. “And who’s this?” His grin is wide, warm but curious.
“She’s my date.” Dean says smoothly, taking my hand. I blink in surprise, but before I can say anything, he leans in, his voice low, “Trust me, this’ll make the night easier. Unless you want half the guys in there bothering you?” He has a point. I nod, squeezing his hand lightly. “Fine. But just so we’re clear, this is purely strategic.” Dean’s grin turns playful. “Darling, you’ve made me the happiest man alive.” The doorman laughs, unclipping the velvet rope. “Go on in, and miss, if this man bothers you, you know where to find me.”
Inside, the club is a kaleidoscope of lights, colors, and pounding music. The main floor is packed with bodies swaying to the beat, while the upper levels pulse with a different energy. As we weave through the crowd, it’s impossible not to notice the attention Dean and Clay draw. Women openly stare, some smiling coyly, others bolder in their admiration. I even catch a girl glaring at me like I’ve declared war.
“Didn’t realize you guys were famous.” I tease as we climb the stairs to the VIP section. Dean smirks. “It’s not us. It’s the family name.” His tone shifts slightly, something colder beneath the surface. I decide not to press further. The VIP area is a different world, quieter but still buzzing with an undercurrent of energy. A woman, flawlessly dressed and exuding confidence, locks eyes with Dean and saunters over.
“Dean, darling. I thought you were coming alone tonight,” she says, her tone sweet but her gaze sharp as it flicks to me.
“And miss the chance to introduce Kayla to the finest club in town? Never,” Dean replies smoothly, slipping an arm around my waist. I resist the urge to laugh at the exaggerated display.
“Dance with me?” I ask, looking up at him. The corner of his mouth lifts in a wicked grin.
“Demanding, aren’t you?” he says. “Vicky, hold my jacket.”
Vicky’s expression shifts from smug to stunned, and I’m already fighting back a grin as Dean leads me to the dance floor. The moment we step into the crowd, the music takes over, and I let myself get lost in the rhythm. For the first time in what feels like forever, the weight on my chest lifts slightly. There are drinks exchanged and dances. Big group ones, fast ones. I shy away from the slow dances, not wanting to give the brothers the wrong impression, but it was all going well until around ninety minutes in… and a familiar melody cuts through the noise, and Braden’s voice fills the room. The walls I’ve built around my grief crack, and it’s like he’s right here, singing just for me. My body freezes, and the pain floods in. Dean’s hands tighten on my waist. “Kayla?” he asks, his voice full of concern. I shake my head, breaking away, and push through the crowd winded until I find a restroom. Once inside, the music muffles slightly, but it’s not enough. Braden’s voice still echoes in my ears as I collapse into a stall.
By the time I pull myself together and step out, my face is a mess of smeared mascara and blotchy skin. A redheaded girl approaches cautiously, her eyes soft with concern.
“Hey,” she says gently. “Are you okay?” I nod, though the lump in my throat makes it hard to speak. Her gaze sharpens, and recognition flashes in her eyes. “I’m sorry about your brother,” she whispers. “He was amazing.” Before I can respond, the door bursts open. Dean and Clay step inside, their expressions a mix of worry and determination. Dean’s gaze finds mine instantly.
“Let’s go,” he says softly, offering his hand. I take it, grateful for the escape. The car ride home is quiet, save for Dean’s occasional glances in my direction. As we pull up to the boarding house, he finally speaks. “You okay?”
“I will be.” I say, surprising myself with the honesty. Dean flashes a small smile. “Good. Because if you ever need to talk…or dance…you know where to find me.”
“Goodnight, Dean,” I reply, stepping out of the car. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I might actually mean it.