10. Gabriella
Gabriella
By the time I finish climbing in my car—which is working for a change—and getting ready for Dick’s, I have my emotions mostly under control.
Mostly.
Tonight should be good money. There's a bachelorette party booked in the back room, and I'm supposed to bartend and waitress exclusively for them for part of my shift.
An extra hundred dollars guaranteed, plus tips. So when my manager asked if I wanted it?
Hell yes.
Apparently there are fifteen women coming.
There will be cocktails. Shots. Penis-shaped straws, because of course there will be. And probably at least one woman crying in the bathroom before midnight.
Whatever.
I've handled worse.
I straighten my fitted black shirt, fix my hair, and swipe another coat of mascara over my lashes. My phone sits silently in my purse. I don't look at it.
And I especially don't think about the fact that he hasn't come into Dick’s all week.
Not once.
Which is fine.
Great, actually.
Exactly what I wanted.
Except I heard about the wildfire A-Feral has been fighting on the far side of the ridge. It's been burning for days.
Gia is worried sick. I've been keeping her company through video calls whenever I can, mostly because Wreck is out there too and pregnant Gia pacing alone in her cabin is a recipe for disaster.
So I know from her that the crew is safe. Or at least they were the last time Wreck managed to call her.
Which means Havoc is safe.
Not that I asked. Because I didn't.
But if I am being honest, I came close approximately seventeen times.
Still, I didn't.
I haven't seen him since the park. Haven't heard from him.
Nothing. Not a single peep.
No enormous blond Wolf sitting at the end of my bar.
No golden eyes tracking me around the room.
No hundred-dollar bill beneath a six-dollar beer.
No growled questions.
No Honey Girl.
And I hate how much I miss it. How much I miss him.
It’s completely ridiculous.
We never even kissed. Nothing actually happened between us.
He bought my son cookies and lunch. We argued. He told me I felt like more. And then—sadly and predictably—he disappeared.
Maybe the game got boring.
Maybe I stopped being interesting the second I made it clear I wasn't going to fall into his arms because he flashed those impossible eyes at me.
Or maybe—my stomach twists.
Maybe Matteo made it too real.
It's one thing to flirt with a woman. It's another thing to realize she comes with a six-year-old who needs breakfast every morning, help with homework, clean clothes, dentist appointments, and somebody who sticks around.
Maybe Havoc sat across from Matteo at that picnic table and realized exactly what getting involved with me would mean.
A ready-made family.
Responsibility.
A child who isn't his.
And maybe he simply decided he wanted no part of it.
The thought hurts.
More than it should.
My throat tightens.
“Oh, fuck him.”
I park outside Dick’s turn off the engine. Next, I grab my purse and get out of the car. I refuse to mourn something I never had. I refuse to miss a male I never kissed.
And I sure as hell refuse to stand here wondering whether I meant anything to Rowan Cross when clearly—my phone buzzes.
My heart jumps so violently I nearly drop my purse trying to grab it. Once I have it in my hand I look down and grin.
Mrs. Donnelly texted me already.
Mrs. D
He's fine. Stop worrying.
A picture follows.
Matteo is wearing a plastic archaeologist hat and grinning with a fake dinosaur bone held over his head.
I laugh.
Then I stare at the screen a second longer than necessary.
There are no other messages waiting for me.
Of course not.
I shove the phone into my purse.
“Fuck Havoc Cross.”
The hidden creature beneath my skin gives an unhappy twitch.
“Don't you start either.”
Because tonight I have a job to do. My son is safe. I have money to make. And if a certain foul-mouthed Wolf has decided he's done haunting me at my job?
Fine.
Good.
Better, even.
That's what I wanted.
At least, that's what I keep telling myself as I lock the door and head toward work, trying very hard not to wonder whether those golden eyes will be waiting for me when I walk into Dick’s.