Chapter Ten
Levi
“Does he have a death wish or something?” Mark mumbles under his breath to Billy, but even though I know he must be talking about me, I don’t respond.
I can’t.
For the first time in weeks, my gaze is locked on the woman across the room.
“I’m not sure, but if he keeps staring, we’re going to find out if Maria was right about the whole Medusa thing.
” From my peripheral I see Billy wave his hands around his head mimicking snakes before they all begin talking about visiting their friend Blake, who is going through a hard time right now.
I tune them out, unable to look away. I have spent weeks at a loss. As much as my head tells me to let it go and stay away from her, I just can’t...
I screwed up. I thought she was messing with me, but the second the words came out of my mouth, and I saw the hurt in her eyes, I knew I was wrong.
I didn’t just piss her off, I hurt her. The pain that she allowed me to see, and I know damn well that allowing me to see it was her choice, is buried in there, and I’m the asshole who dragged it to the surface.
Still, there’s no explanation for how, within the span of twenty-four hours, she called me Batman and brought up her bird named Robin.
It was too much for me to handle, and I snapped.
Krystal always told me that God has a sense of humor.
At this point, I’m starting to believe it.
Acid burns at the back of my throat as I remember more.
She told me a lot of things, like how if anything ever happened to her, she’d be sure to send me signs that everything is okay.
Signs that she said even my stubborn ass would be able to notice.
So here I am, screwed up, grieving over my fiancée, and unable to get those ice blue eyes out of my head.
For months, I’d close my eyes, and all I’d see is Krystal’s face surrounded by ash, and now it’s like they’re both haunting me.
I want to make it right, but part of me wonders if that’s such a good idea.
There’s something about Tris, I don’t know if it’s her confidence, her attitude, or the way she calls me out when no one else does, that’s dug its way under my skin and burrowed in. I can’t shake it, even though I try.
I forcefully drag my eyes from her and stare out the window, trying to distract myself with the tourists outside, but it’s no use.
I drag my hand over my face and through my beard as my thoughts drift, ping ponging between Tris and Krystal until I break out in a cold sweat.
Guilt wracks through me. What type of person can even look at another woman months after losing his fiancée, let alone care at all about their well-being?
We aren’t even friends. I don’t ever care about anyone, and ironically, here I am doing exactly what I told her no one else does.
Damn, I really looked her dead in the face and said, “No one gives a shit” about her.
I’m full-blown spiraling now, but I can’t stop it. My chest constricts, and my breath grows shallow. I’m about to enter a full-blown panic attack of self-loathing mixed with a side of survivor’s guilt when plates land on the table, breaking my focus.
“Here we go, hopefully everything is right and accounted for. If not, well, it’s my first day, go easy on me.” A tiny pink-haired woman bounces on her toes in front of us, hanging back to make sure we’re all satisfied.
“Perfect!” She smiles, then turns her big blue eyes on me.
“I met Maria earlier and unfortunately have had the displeasure of meeting these two over here before.” She hooks her thumb to Mark and Billy.
“But we haven’t met before. I’m Rory.” She places the tray under her arm as she reaches out her tiny hand to shake mine.
Being careful not to crush her hand, we shake, but when I try to pull away, she holds on with a strength I’m not expecting and steps forward.
“And you are?”
“Levi.”
“Right,” she says slowly, like she’s thinking all while chasing a thought. “Do you happen to have a dog, Levi?”
Brows turning down, I sharpen my gaze. “Yes?”
“I thought so.” She smiles but gives no explanation for her random question before skipping back behind the counter.
I look between Mark and Billy for answers, but they both just shrug, paninis half hanging out of their mouth, not a care in the world. That is, until Ainsley walks by and offers Billy a napkin for the mess on his face.
“You eat like a child,” Mark teases. “A big man child.”
“My bad,” he says, smearing sauce across his face, making it much worse. “In most of the foster homes I bounced around growing up, if you didn’t shove it in, you didn’t eat. Some habits are hard to break.”
“In that case,” Maria pipes in. “I’m getting you a bib.”
I do my best to eat what’s on my plate, but with thoughts from earlier still fresh in my mind, it tastes like sand and scrapes painfully down my constricting throat.
Trying to keep my focus off Tris, I don’t realize she’s approaching our table until she’s standing directly in front of me.
I look past her to see that Ainsley is busy taking orders for some late lunch stragglers, and Rory is cleaning.
“Does anyone need anything else, or can I leave this here?” She pulls out the bill and looks past me, purposefully, to Billy, Mark, and Maria.
“I’ve got it.” I reach for the bill but catch her hand with it, and she flinches.
Fucking. Flinches.
Before anyone can react, a call comes over our radios for an ALOC, a person with an altered level of consciousness.
Since we’re the fastest responders with medical training and manpower in case of difficult rescues or if special tools are needed, we get calls like this multiple times a shift.
Sometimes it’s a whole lot of nothing serious, but other times it’s our effectiveness that allows the patient to get into the ambulance and arrive quickly, sometimes saving their life.
We never know what we’re walking into, so we take every call as seriously as the last.
I radio back that the call has been received, and we all start to move. Tris leaves with my credit card. When she comes stomping back, I sign my receipt but pause when she reaches for it.
“I need that.”
The words land clipped and final, like she’s already decided this conversation is over.
Her foot starts tapping against the floor, quick and relentless, each strike a quiet warning.
Her jaw tightens, eyes narrowing just enough to let me know her patience is on a short leash.
As usual, when it comes to me. I swear, it’s impressive the way she wields her attitude, like a weapon she knows exactly how to use.
Fortunately for me, I know where her guard slips.
One soft spot she never bothers hiding. It’s convenient, really.
A way to smooth over the rough edges without having to look too closely at why they’re there in the first place.
If it works, maybe she’ll stop looking at me like I’m the scum of the earth.
Maybe if I can stop feeling bad about what I said, I’ll be able to stop thinking about her.
And if Ellie happens to be the buffer between us?
Well. I can live with that.
“Listen,” I say, her brow rising instantly. “I was going to stop home and let Ellie out after this and feed her, but I’m out of time. Do you think you could do that for me after your shift? I won’t be able to get back there until tomorrow.”
She blows out a sharp breath, her shoulders rising and falling with a restrained sigh.
“For Ellie?” I add. It’s a long shot, but it’s the only one I have.
“For Ellie.” She presses her lips together and looks down before looking back at me. “Fine.”
I fight the urge to smile and instead fish my keys from my pocket and remove the spare.
“Thank you,” I say, handing it to her. “Her food is in the kitchen.” As she takes the key, something else occurs to me. “She could stay with you tonight if you want.”
“What?” she snaps, head jerking back.
“I’m assuming your door is still broken, so having her with you could be an added level of security at night.”
The idea isn’t the problem. It’s solid. Practical. Smart.
That’s what makes it dangerous.
Because I came up with it out of concern for her safety alone, and I don’t like pulling at the thread that leads anywhere past that.
I keep my expression straight, even as something tight coils in my chest. This was supposed to put distance between us while getting us back to a neutral ground.
Instead, I’ve handed myself another excuse to be closer.
Tris looks like she’s biting her tongue, jaw flexing like she’s weighing whether it’s worth saying whatever’s itching to come out. The silence stretches, heavy and loaded, and I don’t know if I’m relieved she holds back or irritated she doesn’t call me on it.
Either way, it feels like I’ve already lost ground.
I tell myself it’s about Ellie. About being responsible.
The fact that none of that stops me from watching Tris too closely, or from hating myself for noticing, just proves I’m doing a terrible job of walking away.
Billy beeps the horn on the rig, so I grab my jacket.
“It’s up to you. Either way, thanks.”
I don’t wait for any type of you’re welcome.
I know it’s not coming. I reach the door in time to see her shove my key into her pocket as Rory bounces over to her with a mischievous grin on her face.
As she looks at me and back to Tris, I push through the door and shift my focus back to work, deciding that’s the safest thing to think about now.
“What was that about?” Billy asks as I hop into the truck. God, I forgot how nosy people in this small town can be.
“What about?” I open the window, sirens blaring as we speed through traffic, and cars pull to the right.
“You and Tris,” he says, like it’s obvious.
“There is no me and Tris,” I bark back, not needing anyone to get the wrong idea.