Chapter 3 Coco
Coco
My fingers begin to cramp as I try to hook my needle through soft faux cashmere yarn.
The cool winter air penetrates the flimsy walls of my apartment in a not-so-great part of town.
I’ve lived here for a little over a year now.
It’s the only place that would even look at an application from someone as young as me, and the winter months are the worst.
The gas that services the building is fickle, and the furnace’s pilot light doesn’t always stay lit. If it goes out any time after four p.m., the super won’t do anything because his working hours are over.
Not sure when it went out today, and since I wasn’t home until after five, he wouldn’t take my call, so I left a message.
Which means a frigid evening for me. My baking supplies have been depleted, so there’s no reason to turn on the oven and use it for heat.
Tempting as it is, I can’t afford to waste unnecessary electricity, either.
Instead, I get up from my cozy chair and turn on the kettle to boil water for tea.
At least I can have that before trying to sleep.
If I weren’t so fearful of fires, I’d consider getting a space heater, but that’s the reason I left my last apartment.
Someone on the floor above me had one, and the place was so old it went up like a dried-out Christmas tree.
Nothing was salvageable. I won’t be the reason that possibly happens here.
So, I’ll suffer with the cold.
Reaching into the cupboard, I pull out the tea tin, remove the lid, and disappointment slams my chest as I look at my final lonely tea bag.
Grocery shopping with my last paycheck had been sparse because my yarn needed replenishing.
Now, regret settles in my stomach. There are another five days before payday again, and already my cupboards and fridge show signs that I may not last until then.
Ordinarily, that wouldn’t be a problem; however, I have three of those days off, which means no grabbing breakfast and lunch at the shop.
That’s another one of my favorite things about Janet.
She doesn’t mind us eating a muffin or a sandwich while on shift.
She believes that well-fed workers are happy workers, and she’s not wrong.
I don’t talk about my money problems with Janet or Sabrina, so they have no idea that I’d gladly work a few more shifts during the week to avoid living paycheck to paycheck. I’d gladly take on two more days a week, at least, but others need the work too.
Besides, my Etsy side hustle usually boosts my income, but the last couple of weeks have just been slow. Sabrina always tells me I should apply to be a vendor at markets and events, but the fear of rejection is so deeply rooted in my soul that mustering up the courage is tough.
One day, I’ll push myself out of my comfort zone.
Until then, I intend to enjoy this hot tea and curl back up in my comfy chair to read until I’m tired and can hopefully fall fast asleep in this cold air.
Unfortunately, the reality is me shivering most of the night, wrapped up in every blanket I own and wearing multiple layers of clothing before finally crawling out of bed before seven and readying for work.
I look forward to a hot coffee and warming up a fresh blueberry muffin as I quickly brush my teeth with freezing water, skip washing my face, and dress warmly before darting out into the bitter morning air.
Love there’s always someone there trying to hit on me.
The ride takes as long as it does every morning, and as I hop off the bus, the streets bustle with traffic, and the sidewalks are filled with pedestrians. Gazing around me, as I typically do, I love seeing the downtown storefronts begin to display their Christmas and holiday decorations.
Stepping away from the bus stop, I’m a little surprised that Lucca’s fancy SUV is parked where it usually is when he stops in for his triple espresso. I glance across the street, but the shop lights are still off, and I don’t see him inside, so I assume he has other business around here.
Slowly walking towards his vehicle, I take out the small stocking I made for him last night, in the same colors as his eyes. The specialty yarn cost me a fortune, but it was worth it. Tucked inside are the snickerdoodles I made the other day with a note wishing him a happy holiday.
Not noticing him or Preston anywhere in sight, I quickly attach the stocking and rush back to the light. When I spot him coming from the same direction I had, panic ensues like a golden retriever getting ready to chase squirrels.
They get to the vehicle, and a smile toys at Lucca’s lips while he looks around for me.
Thankfully, he doesn’t spot me yet, but it’s only a matter of time.
They get in the SUV, and before I realize what’s happening, our eyes meet, my panic grows, and I dart across the street just as a car turns through the light.
The impact jars me. It steals my breath and confuses me as I roll up the car’s windshield, then back down as the driver slams on their brakes.
After hitting the frozen ground—packed down with more snow—I stare up at the gloomy sky, wondering if the surging pain is the universe’s way of telling me to knock off my stalking and leave the poor man alone.
“Coco!”
Janet’s frantic cry encourages me to lift a hand to gesture that I’m okay, only it doesn’t quite work the way I want because searing hot agony hits me like a tidal wave, and suddenly, everything rushes in.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Lucca, stop!” Those words confuse me, but not enough to dare to move again. “Go to her. You can’t fucking kill the man.”
“The hell I can’t!” Lucca’s murderous tone is kind of scary. Okay, a lot scary, but when I try to locate him, my head explodes with a nauseating pain that blackens my vision, and suddenly, it feels like I’m floating above my body, watching everything around me happen.
Lucca and Janet enter my line of sight at the same time. She, with tears in her eyes; he, with a mean scowl on his face. Both of their mouths are moving, but the ringing in my ears is deafening, so I don’t hear a word they’re saying.
When I attempt to push myself up, they each place a gentle hand on my shoulders, shoot glares at each other, and then turn their concerned looks to me and speak again. Preston appears in my peripheral vision, yelling at someone, while holding a man with a bloody and bruised face in one hand.
My head pounds as I blink furiously. A million tiny jackhammers work at making me feel numb. The desire to test my limbs’ capabilities is squashed by the remembered pain of trying to lift my arm.
“Is it broken?” I ask, but they just look at me funny. So don’t move, don’t speak, is how things are going to go right now.
Well, at least I’m not cold. There’s way too much agony for that.
The sound of sirens penetrates the fog, and the ringing finally lessens enough to hear all the arguing around me. They’re fighting over whose fault it was that I was hit by a car.
The logical part of me understands that it’s mine, but I know well enough to keep my mouth shut. For now, I’ll enjoy the heat of Lucca’s palm on my cheek and the fact that I’m warmer here than I was in my apartment.
That can’t be good, right? When it’s this cold, I should be freezing. Maybe it’s shock? Too much adrenaline coursing through my veins for cold to penetrate? I hope that’s the case. I don’t want to die a virgin.
Lucca’s lips quirk up in that sexy way he does, and I register Janet’s snicker, realizing I said that part out loud.
Changed my mind. I’ll die a virgin. Right now, please.