Chapter Seven
Levi
“Ihate you,” I growl out, unable to think clearly as the rage, guilt, and panic caused by her words flood me all at once.
“No. You don’t. You hate yourself. And until you start acting like someone worth saving, I don’t see that changing.” She rips a piece of paper from her book and lets it go midair. “Your month is up. Pay at the front when you’re done.”
I don’t bother looking at it. I’m still seeing red as she walks away.
Callie warned me. Or at least she tried, but when do I ever listen?
Beautiful like a rose, but she has thorns, she said.
I was trying to piss her off, to get her to stop looking at me with sympathy like everyone else.
I didn’t anticipate that I’d push her too far.
Guess now I know what those thorns feel like.
You’re spitting on her sacrifice...
Is that what I’m doing? Is she actually right, and am I even willing to admit it if she is?
“He can’t breathe!” A little girl’s scream pulls me from my thoughts, not just any little girl, it’s Violet, Tom’s niece.
My whole crew is up from their seats, immediately jumping into action.
“I’ll grab the AED, just in case,” Maria shouts, running out the door.
Before I reach the boy, Tris already has a crying Violet in her arms, comforting her even though she looks equally scared. My knees hit the ground, and I quickly run through my primary assessment.
Airway.
Breathing.
Circulation.
Quickly, I run through the information in front of me. He’s conscious, but his breaths are coming in too rapidly with a wheezing sound. He’s not choking on anything.
“His pulse is thready,” Mark adds to my list.
Maria runs back into the cafe and clears the crowd of people around us. “Please, everyone, return to your seats.”
“His lips are swelling.” The answer hits me. “He’s in anaphylactic shock!”
“Uncle Levi, he’s got a Peanut Allergy!” Violet shouts, her little voice shaking.
“I need an Epi-Pen!” I yell out to everyone listening.
“Take mine.” Billy hands me his Epi-Pen, and I quickly administer it.
Slowly, the little boy’s breathing returns to normal as the swelling goes down.
“Move, move. Get out of my way!” A woman’s voice shouts over the chaos.
“Mommy!” Violet runs to Ali, her mother, and Tom’s sister.
“Levi, what happened? Shane, sweetie, are you alright?” Ali is holding her three-month-old son, Heath, in her arms, and her twin girls, Lily and Iris, follow closely behind her. “We were only gone for a few minutes.”
“He’s alright, Ali. He had an allergic reaction,” I tell her as calmly as I can.
Shane slowly stands up, and we help him to his chair. Ali offers him soft, comforting words as she smooths over the boy’s hair.
“I don’t understand how this happened. I made sure the pastry I bought him didn’t have any nuts.” She glances at the table and back to Shane, but does a double-take. “Wait.” She picks up the pastry from her table and holds it up. “I didn’t order him this.”
Oh hell. I glance at Tris, and she must realize it too because her eyes are wide and, to my surprise, watery.
It’s the pastry she gave the little boy.
“I saw him take a free sample earlier,” I catch myself saying. “It must have been when you were in the bathroom with the kids. It’s no one’s fault.” My gaze moves subtly between her and Tris. “He’ll be fine, but I’m gonna have Billy here call an ambulance so he can get checked out at the hospital.”
Billy pulls out his phone and makes the call.
“Thank you, Levi.” Ali takes in a shuddering breath and pulls out her phone. “I’ll let his mom know so she can meet us there.”
As the crowd settles back into their seats, I somehow find myself standing next to a shaken Tris.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I say gently, only for her to hear.
Her breath stutters on an inhale. “I gave him the pastry.”
“I know,” I explain.
She quirks her head to the side, frowning, a question in her glassy blue eyes.
“I saw you.”
Her shoulders drop, like she’s too tired to pretend she’s alright, and something about her, like this, the glimpse of the woman who hides behind the walls of ice, has an invisible hand pressing down on my chest.
“You were just trying to be nice.” My lips purse, and one corner ticks up, a grim chuckle slipping out at exactly the wrong time.
She slaps my shoulder, but there’s a hint of amusement behind her eyes where seconds ago there was only fear and guilt. “Yeah, I try to be nice and see what happens,” she huffs, covering her face with her hand. “Wait, if you knew it was me who gave it to him, why didn’t you say anything?”
Great question. I’ve been wondering the same thing.
It was the perfect opportunity to throw her under the bus.
She could have been fired, but then what?
She’d really have nothing if what Billy was saying is true, and the only thing I’d accomplish is hurting her.
I squeeze the back of my neck, realizing that the reason I didn’t say it is because that’s not what I want at all.
“Because,” I grumble. “Then you’d be just as miserable as me.”
Her eyes spark with understanding. “I mean, that seems nearly impossible to imagine,” she replies, sarcasm lacing her tone.
I stare back at her, deadpan. She laughs, and I roll my eyes.
“Thank you...” she mutters after a beat, like the words are foreign on her tongue. “I’m sorry for what I said,” she adds quietly.
It catches me off guard, and my chest twists with a sudden ache
“Don’t be.” I angle myself fully toward hers. “You don’t have to apologize for having the guts to call me miserable when I’m sure everyone else is thinking it too.”
“I said a lot more than that,” she counters, not to upset me, I realize, but to make sure I don’t let her off the hook so easily.
Something about that sends heat crawling up the back of my neck. “I know you did.”
“I called you a bitch.” Her chin dips, and her one brow raises.
“Yup,” I grumble, popping the p for dramatics. “But if I remember correctly, you also called yourself one so.” I shrug.
A rare grin passes over her face as her laughter slips out, unguarded and startled, making the room feel suddenly smaller.
“Fine, but this doesn’t change anything,” she says, trying to sound more serious than she looks. “I still don’t like you.”
I swallow hard. “The feeling is mutual.”
“Good. I’ll take care of your table’s bill today. But the next one is all you.” She goes back to work and leaves me standing here feeling like the ground has shifted beneath me.
Left unbalanced and unsure of what to make of today, I head to Tom’s house for a much-needed break and weekend off.
“We love Ellie,” Callie explains gently, like that will make what she’s saying any better. “But every time I turn around, she’s got one of Aeliana’s bottles, blankies, or toys in her mouth. She even chewed through the baby gate Tom just installed last week.”
I stop myself from making any smart ass comments about how they’re baby proofing a house for a baby who can’t even roll over yet, let alone crawl or walk.
Ellie lies on the floor behind Callie, chewing on yet another, what I’m assuming was once, some sort of stuffed bear.
I grimace, and Callie follows my gaze. She snaps her attention back to me with a, “This is exactly what I’m talking about”, eyebrow raise.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tease while keeping a straight face. Already knowing where this is going.
I knew when I moved in here that I was on borrowed time, and it seems that’s run out.
I’m honestly surprised it’s taken this long.
The first two weeks I was here, there was a standoff of wills.
I’d turn the thermostat down, and Callie would turn it back up.
Just when she thought she’d won, I’d wait until she fell asleep and turn it back down again.
Neither of us said a word, but we knew what it was.
War!
Needless to say, I haven’t been the easiest to live with, I know that, but Callie and Tom have done everything they can to help me while I get settled here. Now that I am, the only thing left for me to do is get myself my own place.
“Tom and I have been talking,” Callie starts.
Here we go.
“That place he mentioned to you is move-in ready now. I paid a moving company to furnish it for you. Everything will be dropped off this weekend. All you need to do is set it up.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all taken care of then.”
“Listen,” Tom pipes in. “We love having you here, but the back and forth is a lot. I want to be able to help Callie more where I can, and having them both here, living with me.” He smiles at her, and what little aggravation I had from this conversation seeps right out of me.
“I get it, man,” I butt in, because honestly, I really do understand.
They want to start their life together, and this is a part of them building that foundation for their happily ever after, or whatever.
I don’t think anyone’s version of that includes the grumpy best friend as the third wheel.
“I’ll use this weekend to move in, and Ellie and I will be out of your hair. My shift starts back this Monday.”
Callie’s pouts, even though this is what she wants. “You are still required to be here once a week for family dinners.”
Of course I am.
“Whatever you want, Callie.” I reach out and squeeze her knee.
“That’s my line.” Tom chuckles. “Speaking of dinner. Ali called. She said you saved Violet’s best friend today and that she wants to thank you with a home-cooked meal. What happened?”
“Kid had an allergic reaction to a pastry,” I say, reliving the event for the hundredth time since this afternoon.
Callie gasps, her hand covering her mouth as she subconsciously pulls Sunny closer to her chest, like a mother’s instinct to protect her child kicks in at the sound of danger.
“It was no big deal. I mean, it could have been, but we were there and acted quickly,” I reassure her.