I pulled my bike behind Whitecaps, parked it, and cut the engine. Closing my eyes, I let my head hang between my shoulders.

I felt dead.

Barely two hours of sleep last night. My muscles ached. The skin on my hands felt stretched, burned, and broken. My back was fucked up, courtesy of the floor I’d passed out on like a dumbass, knowing I should’ve quit and gotten some shut-eye when I noticed the time creeping up on four a.m., but also knowing I couldn’t quit.

I wouldn’t.

Not until that shit-hole, dump I was now the owner of was good enough.

I thought it would mean something, signing all those fucking papers yesterday, getting my name on the deed, walking out with the keys in my pocket, I thought I would feel…something. Anything.

I’d done it right. Saved up and sacrificed. I fucking did it, the way I was supposed to. The way you’re supposed to do it.

So how come I didn’t feel a fucking thing?

Maybe because the house didn’t look worth jack shit, had more holes in the wall than actual fucking wall space, carpet that was stained and ripped, a roof that leaked, jacked up plumbing, a shoddy heater. The room sizes were shit. The yard was shit. The kitchen was shit.

The house? Yeah, you guessed it. Fucking shit.

But it was all I could afford, and I couldn’t wait any longer.

Lucky for me, I could fix it up. I knew how to do everything that needed to be done, and what I didn’t know, I’d figure out. I’d learn. But it was a lot of fucking work, and I couldn’t have this taking a while. It had been long enough. Too fucking long. Meaning this wasn’t going to be the last time I rolled up to Whitecaps feeling like ass. I had a lot of long nights ahead of me. I’d give up sleep entirely if I could.

Fuck it. That house was more important.

I rolled my neck from side to side, stretching it, as I headed for the back door. Fourteen hours on my feet was going to be a bitch after last night.

No way was I passing on another shift, though. I couldn’t do that.

The restaurant lights were on inside, bright fluorescent and unforgiving, but it was quiet. Nobody was here yet. Nobody except Nate, my boss. Sometimes I thought the poor bastard never left.

I rapped my knuckles against his closed office door, noticing the dried compound still caked on my fingers and the back of my hand. Scowling, I picked it off.

Real fucking sanitary, dick.

“Yeah?”

I opened the door and walked inside.

Nate sat at his desk with a shitload of papers scattered in front of him, dressed in a shirt and tie like usual, his head down while he studied some order or whatever the fuck as his fingers dug into his temples.

Not once had I ever walked in here not seeing damn near close to the exact same scene in front of me. I didn’t think there could’ve been that much shit to do when you stayed on top of it the way he did, but what the fuck did I know? I didn’t own a business.

I had a feeling part of it had to do with keeping his mind off his dead wife.

Nate was a good guy. I had mad respect for him, for a lot of reasons, but most of that respect stemmed from our first meeting and the shot he gave me when he didn’t have to. When nobody had to.

And when I didn’t think anybody would.

*  *  *

December 2015

Arms pulled across my chest and jaw tight, I breathed deep through my nose as I waited for the question I knew was coming.

The guy, Nate—the owner of Whitecaps Restaurant—was reviewing my application. Currently on the second page and scanning the bottom of it. Lingering there. Not flipping to the third page.

Which fucking sucked for me. I was hoping this guy was the type to check work history and experience only.

But now? I should’ve known before I even walked in here.

I didn’t deserve this job. I didn’t deserve shit.

Never did. Never will.

So what the fuck was I even doing standing here? I was wasting my time. Nobody was going to hire me.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you purposely skipped over this question for a reason?” Nate’s eyes came up and leveled me.

We had to be around the same age. I wouldn’t peg this guy for much older than thirty, but he looked beat the fuck up, like he’d lived twice as many years as I had. And worse ones too, which was pretty fucking impossible.

“You got a record?” he asked curtly.

Lie. Lie. Lie.

The word no danced on my tongue.

The truth wasn’t in my best interest. Maybe this guy wouldn’t verify. Maybe I’d get away with it for a few months and make a little money before I had to split.

“I’ll check,” he added, like the bastard could read my fucking mind.

Shit.

I inhaled a deep breath through my nose and nodded once.

“This a recent thing?” he asked, resting his elbow on the desk.

I hesitated to share, but thought…fuck it. Didn’t matter one way or the other now if he knew my history. No way was I getting hired.

“Just got out yesterday,” I told him. “Can’t really get much more recent than that.”

“What were you in for?”

Suddenly restless, I shifted my weight on my feet. “Is that something you gotta know?” I asked, speaking louder. “It’s not like you left space on there for me to write it down. You just asked if I’d ever been convicted of a felony. I answered that.”

“It’s something I need to know if I’m going to hire you,” Nate shot back.

My head jerked. “You’re still looking to hire me?”

Nate leaned back in his chair, letting the application drop to the desk, and cocked his head. “I got Miguel in the kitchen and only Miguel, and he’s leaving Friday,” he shared. “This job has been posted for two months, and you’re the first person to come in here asking about it. You got experience. You seem to know what you’re doing. Okay, so you have a record. We all make mistakes or got something in our lives we aren’t proud of. I’m not excusing whatever it is you did. But I’m also not trying to close this place down while I wait for somebody else to come in here asking to get hired. That can’t happen. So, unless you tell me something I really can’t look past in order to give you a chance, yes, I’m still looking to hire you. Job’s yours if you want it.”

I blinked at the man.

Honest, I didn’t know what the fuck to say to that. I was pretty sure I was hearing things.

I hadn’t been offered many chances in my life. Not from people I knew who should’ve given a shit about me. Not from strangers who could’ve. If I wanted something, or if I needed something, which was typically the case, I took it. If I couldn’t get something I needed, I found a way to get it. Either way, nobody did me any favors or gave me any handouts. It didn’t fucking happen.

There were people who deserved good. I learned early on, I was not one of those people.

Still, I wasn’t stupid. I knew I might not get a break like this again. Even though I was risking telling him something he might not be able to look past, I had to take that chance.

Bottom line: I might not deserve shit, but I needed this job.

At twenty-seven years old, I was going straight. I’d work hard for everything I got from here on out. I’d change my path.

I had to.

Not because I earned this or anything better than what I got dealt. This wasn’t for me. Nothing was for me. Not anymore.

I wasn’t worth dick. And I wouldn’t let myself forget it. That was my penance.

Nate brought his hand up to scratch at his chin. His brows lifted. He was waiting.

I pulled in a deep breath. Yeah…fuck it. Time to confess. I needed this fucking job.

I wasn’t sure what classified as excusable behavior or not. After I gave him the run-down of everything I’d done, figuring it’d be best to be up front about all of it and not leave anything out, I expected him to toss me out.

So when he took less than a minute to think his decision over and asked me, “When can you start?” I thought for sure I’d gotten hit one too many times in the head and was just now feeling the effects of those blows.

A weight I didn’t realize I was carrying slid off my chest.

Again, I just blinked at the guy, not knowing what to say.

“Shit,” he mumbled. “My girls are going to eat you alive. That silent treatment thing doesn’t really work with them. Trust me.”

I didn’t know what he meant by that. Didn’t really care either. I was still wondering if he realized he’d just offered me a job.

Me. Fucking me.

“Is tomorrow good? Or Friday? I was hoping you could train a day with Miguel…”

“Don’t need to train. I know what I’m doin’.”

He nodded in appreciation.

“I’ll be here tomorrow, though. I wanna get started,” I said, keeping to myself how desperate I was feeling. If I could’ve started today, I would’ve. But he wasn’t suggesting that.

“Sounds good. Be here at eight. We open at ten.” Nate stood and offered his hand to me. I stepped forward and shook it. “I’m not going to regret hiring you, am I?”

I shook my head. “I’m done with that life.”

“Good.”

“Plus, there ain’t nothing here I wanna steal.”

He stared at me.

Shit.

“You won’t regret it,” I uttered quickly, stepping back.

Jesus. I was one dumbass comment away from holding the record for world’s shortest length of employment. Just shut the fuck up and leave.

Nate lifted his chin once more as he smoothed out his tie. “All right, Sean. Thanks for coming in. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I stalked to the door and turned the knob, glancing back once more before I opened it. “Appreciate this. A lot,” I said, my throat suddenly feeling tight. “I wasn’t expecting…just, thanks. I mean that.”

Nate dropped his head into a nod.

I walked out of the office and crossed the restaurant, pushing through the double doors that led outside.

*  *  *

Starting over wasn’t easy, but I didn’t want easy. I just wanted a chance to make it happen, and Nate gave me that.

I owed the guy.

But now I needed to make sure he knew that just ’cause I owed him and probably would for the rest of my fucking life, that didn’t mean I could be pushed around. And I wasn’t leaving this office until he got that point.

Whitecaps had two cooks now. Me, and this kid Nate hired last week.

I worked with J.R. for a day and a half while he was training. He seemed all right enough. Knew what he was doing. Talked a little too fucking much, but I was used to that kind of shit around here. And yeah, it was damn good luck he started when he did, seeing as I needed the day off yesterday for settlement, but every motherfucker here had another thing coming if they thought I’d just sit back and watch my job get taken from me. No fucking way.

Nate glanced up when I stopped on the other side of his desk. “Hey. How’d it go with the house yesterday?” he asked, sounding genuinely interested. “Everything work out?”

“Yeah.” I crossed my arms over my chest, thinking about how I wanted to approach this. “Gotta talk to you about something, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m not stepping down so that little prick can take my shifts.”

Nate’s brows lifted. He sat back in his chair and removed his glasses, dropping them on the desk, and studied me, saying nothing.

Fuck. I gritted my teeth, thinking maybe I should’ve approached this differently. I wouldn’t have shifts to fight for if I got my ass fired.

“Are you referring to J.R.?” Nate asked.

I nodded.

“He handled it well yesterday. No major issues. No complaints.”

“Yeah? Good for him,” I growled. “Ain’t like it’s brain surgery.”

Nate tilted his head, asking, “What’s the problem, Sean? You needed the day off, and he covered it.”

I breathed deep through my nose, wanting to keep my anger out of this but finding that hard when I was feeling threatened. But tearing into Nate? What fucking good would that do? I couldn’t mess this up.

And I always messed everything up, fucked it all when it was going good.

Don’t blow this, asshole.

“Appreciated that,” I said calmly. “I don’t remember saying anything to you about it Sunday, but just know I’m grateful. That shit yesterday was important.”

Nate said nothing. So I kept going.

“That being said, I need the hours. I need the money. I need my fuckin’ shifts. I can run that kitchen by myself. You know I can. So, I’m not seeing a reason for that kid sticking around. You need to cut him loose. If he handled things yesterday as well as you say he did, he’ll have no problems finding work. You don’t even need to feel bad about it.” I shrugged. “Shit, I’ll tell him if you want. I got no problems doing it.”

Might even enjoy it a little too. Payback for talking my fucking ear off.

Nate’s mouth lifted into a half smile. “I think that kid might shit his pants if you fired him,” he said, then his face grew serious as he sat forward, looming over his desk. “I hired J.R. to help,” he shared. “To take some of the workload off you. I know you can handle that kitchen, but Jesus, man, everyone needs a break. You open and close for me every day.”

“Am I complainin’?” I asked.

“No, but I doubt you would. You and I both know there are days and times when we’re busier than others. There’s no reason why there can’t be two of you back there.”

“Full season, I can handle it. I’m not askin’ for help.”

“And I’m not asking your permission to give you help, am I?”

Nostrils flaring, I clenched my jaw to keep from saying something I couldn’t take back.

“Look.” Nate raised his hand to halt me from speech. “Let me say this before you flip my desk over and knock me out, since you look ready to do that. You and J.R. are going to be splitting up the shifts. That’s not up for discussion.”

Cursing, I turned and headed for the door.

Fuck this. Fuck this fucking job and every motherfucking asshole working here. I am done.

“And I’m giving you a raise.”

I froze, blinking at the wall. What the…

“And just so we’re clear on this—it’ll cover the cut in hours you’ll be taking and then some.”

I slowly turned my head, meeting his eyes. “Why?” I asked, voice tight.

Nate gave me a look like he knew that question was coming. “How long have you been working for me?” he asked.

“Fourteen months.”

“And how many times have you been late in those fourteen months?”

“None.”

“Sick? Called out for whatever reason? How many times?”

“None.”

“Complained about hours?” He smirked. “Complained about anything?”

I turned to face him again. “So I don’t bitch? So what?”

“You come in here, you do your job, and you do it well, Sean,” he said. “You’re the best damn cook I’ve had in here, and I appreciate the fact that you don’t give me shit or cause drama. You wanna know why I’m giving you a raise? Because you earned it. You’ve also earned a break, so take it. Split up the shifts with J.R. Work together. Let him take some of the load. Just figure it out. I don’t want to see you when I get here and when I’m leaving at night. Take some days off, man. Christ. Nobody needs to be here as much as me.”

I stood there unable to speak, just processing everything Nate just said, which was a fucking lot, more than he’d ever said to me at once before. But mostly, I was focusing on the fact that I was going to be making more money and working less, which meant I would have time to fix up that dump.

I wouldn’t need to be pulling late hours and giving up sleep entirely. Hell, I might even be able to get it ready sooner than I thought.

This was a good thing. I didn’t understand why, but I was getting an opportunity, another break, and there was no fucking way I wasn’t going to take it.

“Are we good?” Nate asked when I still hadn’t said anything back to him. “Or do you want to try and talk me out of this, and maybe still punch me?”

I stuck my hands in my pockets. “I’m not gonna punch you.”

“Do you still have a problem with J.R.?”

“No.”

“Good.” He shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You need to ease up a little, Sean. Give yourself some credit. If you work hard for me, I’m not going to ignore that. Keep it up, all right?”

Nodding, I turned away from Nate and got the hell out of that office, feeling strange as shit.

Good, yeah, I felt good about the changes, now that I knew how this was going to play out for me, but I still didn’t know how to feel when I was handed something. Especially when I knew I didn’t deserve it.

Treat me like garbage. Be a complete dick to me. That I could understand. But Christ, anything else was confusing as hell.

After shrugging off my coat, tying my hair back at the base of my skull, and washing the rest of the compound off my hands, I went to the walk-in and started taking inventory.

Work kept me busy and my mind off shit I still couldn’t wrap my head around, no matter how hard I tried. For an hour, I had silence.

Prep done, I was working on the soup of the day when J.R. came in through the back.

“What’s up, man?” he asked, sounding pleased as fuck to be here and see me, like we were close or something. This kid was weird. “Hey, did Nate talk to you about how we’re gonna split up the shifts?”

I jerked my chin, keeping my eyes on the pot I was stirring.

“’Cause I just wanna let you know, I’m down with whatever,” he continued as he moved around the kitchen. “So if there’s days when you want me to cover early, I got that. Or if you wanna roll out of here before close, cool. My shit is flexible.”

That ache in my neck continued to throb. “Wouldn’t mind getting out of here before too late tonight,” I said, meeting his eyes then. “You sayin’ you got this covered?”

J.R. smiled, tugging off his beanie and running his hand through his blond hair, spiking it up. “Brother, I got you. No problem. Hey, man, this is gonna work out. I know you seemed a little…unsure about me getting hired on, and I got that. I’m young. I got this new style about me. It’s intimidating. I feel you. But you’ll see. We’ll probably be best friends by next month.”

I stared at him. It’s intimidating? Jesus Christ. What the fuck was this kid on? And why the hell was he calling me brother?

His smile grew, stretching his lips wide. “You’re serious as fuck back here, man. You need to lighten up a little.” He laughed at himself, then looked toward the window separating us from the restaurant.

I was just about to get back to what I was doing, considering I had nothing else to fucking say to this kid, when his next words stopped me.

“Morning, ladies! Who else froze their balls off driving over here? Just me?”

I didn’t give a shit what he was talking about. That’s not what had me turning more and looking through that damn window myself.

I had to know who he was talking to.

Kali stopped in front of the window first, giggling as she tugged off her wool hat.

She was one of the waitresses. Young, like the rest of them, but had a kid I knew she was raising on her own, considering how much all of them fucking talked around that window. She didn’t say much to me, though, never did, and unlike two of the others, didn’t get up in my shit every other second like they were getting paid to do it. I didn’t mind her too much.

“Don’t you have heat?” she asked J.R.

“Not heat that’ll shoot up to my balls,” he replied. “Why hasn’t someone invented that yet? There needs to be one of those vents below the wheel, shooting straight at my junk.”

“How lovely.” She chuckled.

“My balls are fine!”

Hearing that voice, my shoulders pulled back and I sucked in a breath. I watched Shayla smile and laugh as she walked toward Nate’s office.

Our eyes locked—hers so fucking big. Almost too big for her face; it should’ve looked weird, but it didn’t.

They were one solid color—a rich brown, shiny like wet soil, and Christ, they were beautiful. I’d never seen eyes like that before. I could look all fucking day at a pair of eyes like that.

But, like usual lately, my time for looking was limited.

Shayla immediately turned away, her cheeks a shade redder, which I’d put money on having absolutely nothing to do with the cold, and knocked on Nate’s door. He called out, and she disappeared behind it.

Gritting my teeth, I turned back to the stove and kept stirring my pot of crab soup, reminding myself how fucked up it was to be wanting attention from someone I had no business getting attention from.

This was the way it needed to be. She should be turning away. She should be avoiding me and keeping all those sweet words to herself now. So what if I felt like a giant piece of shit for doing her the way I did. I had to do it. She shouldn’t be wanting anything from me anyway. She deserved better.

I had no idea why she took to me in the first place. I sure as fuck didn’t ask for it.

I wasn’t particularly nice to her. I didn’t go out of my way to talk to her or even so much as look at her back when I first got hired on. I kept to myself and worked. That’s what I got hired on to do, so why the fuck would I do anything else? I didn’t give a shit about anyone here. And they shouldn’t give a shit about me.

But for some reason, that girl felt inclined to push her way in, like talking to me was something she not only wanted to do, but enjoyed doing. And I couldn’t keep ignoring her. I tried. Motherfucker, I tried. I didn’t give her anything in return those first couple of days, not even making eye contact with her when she’d drop off a damn ticket. Just let her ramble on and on. She told me about everything. Everything she was thinking, feeling, wishing for, and wanting more than anything. I kept my focus on my work and nothing else, until I slipped up and looked up after hearing something in her voice, something I didn’t like that sounded an awful lot like fear, and for the first time I saw who the fuck was talking to me like they were in some sort of competition for most words spoken in a minute.

I saw her eyes first. That stopped my breathing.

Then I looked over the rest of her face, taking in all those sweet features—pale flawless skin, cute little nose, and full pink lips. Her hair was dark and stopped just below her chin, cut choppy, and held out of her face with a skull bandana. She looked young as fuck, couldn’t have been much older than twenty. She looked tiny as fuck too. I could see most of her, since she was sitting up on the counter and peering at me through the window, but I didn’t get to check out much more than her face before I watched those pretty lips stretch into a smile, shutting my brain down completely from further functioning.

It wasn’t just the fact that she had a good smile, a fucking great smile, actually. One that somehow made that mouth even prettier. She had a smile that lit up her whole damn face like she was standing in a spotlight, making her shine from the inside out.

It was the fact that she was giving it to me and giving it good, like she’d been waiting for me to look at her and couldn’t have been happier about that wait ending. And then she further fucked me up when she opened her mouth and spoke, saying something I shouldn’t have heard and further, shouldn’t have given a shit about.

Too bad I did.

“There you are,” she’d said, holding onto that smile while she jumped down, staying turned to face me. “I thought I was going to have to set myself on fire to get your attention. That would’ve sucked.” She giggled.

And that laugh was fucking pretty too. Don’t ask me how, but it was.

I watched her cross the restaurant and tend to some dickheads who got seated in a booth.

She was joking, obviously; I’m not an idiot. She wouldn’t have set herself on fire, but I suddenly felt like the world’s biggest asshole for putting those words in her mouth.

Maybe I should’ve been giving her attention…

What? No. Fuck, no.

Shaking my head, I got back to work, doing what I should’ve been doing all along for about two seconds before I was stopped again.

“I’m Shayla, by the way.”

I quit working and looked up.

She was back to sitting on the counter as she finished scribbling on a ticket, smiling softer now, like she was thinking about something funny but didn’t want to share it.

That pissed me off.

And then it pissed me off further because why the fuck did that piss me off? What did I care what she was thinking about?

And why the fuck was I still looking at her?

I watched as she ripped the ticket off her book and slid the paper across the lip of the window, pushing her body closer and giving me view of her uniform top.

My eyes fell to her name tag. “You go by Shay?” I asked.

Her mouth dropped open as she stared at me for several seconds, gaze lingering on my beard. “Uh…y-yes?” She cleared her throat and her cheeks pinked up. “Sometimes. I go by both.”

“You like one better?”

“I don’t know.”

My eyebrow lifted. “You don’t know?”

She stared at me for a breath before responding. “I guess I like whatever people want to call me. I like both. I answer to Shay or Shayla. What do you like?”

“Shayla.”

My response shocked the shit out of me and threw her off too. Me because what the fuck was I even saying? Why was I telling her what I liked? Why did I even like it? And why the fuck was she even asking? What did she care?

I didn’t get this girl, but I knew my response meant something to her. I could see it.

Shayla blinked those big, brown eyes, mouth slack, my answer clearly stunning her, which I’m guessing had to do with me giving her one so quickly, then she started smiling at me again, and muttered a “Cool” before hopping back down and busying herself getting drinks.

I didn’t want her busying herself getting drinks. I wanted her to plant her cute little ass back on that counter, and keep talking to me, and I wanted her to do it while I looked.

Something was seriously fucking wrong with me.

I got back to work and tried not giving her any more attention for the rest of the day, which I fucking sucked at. I didn’t say much else to her, but I looked. I fucking looked a lot. I looked forgetting I shouldn’t be looking, and when that realization hit me later that night when I got back to my shithole trailer, and I remembered why I didn’t deserve to be looking at someone like that, seeing as I wasn’t ever going to be better than the filth surrounding me, I vowed to put an end to it. The next time we worked together, I wouldn’t give her shit. I’d ignore her. And she’d eventually get the hint and leave me the fuck alone.

Yeah…That didn’t happen. I didn’t ignore a damn thing. And she didn’t sway either.

We kept at it for months. Months. Her talking. Me listening and looking.

And although I liked it more than I could remember liking a lot of things, I needed it to stop. I wasn’t ever going to be worth what this girl wanted to give. I knew that, and I needed her to know it too, but I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop what was going on between us. I had to look at her. I had to listen to everything she was telling me, knowing that it could and would end and wanting it to just as badly as I didn’t. I couldn’t fight it. I needed her to fight it. Something had to get this girl away from me.

And when an opportunity came for me to fuck it all up, I saw my out and I took it.

Her invite to some bullshit party sounded friendly, but I knew it wasn’t. I could tell by the way she was looking at me, smiling, licking her lips, and telling me with those eyes how badly she wanted this—us—to happen. And I stared right on back, wanting it just as bad, wanting everything with this girl, maybe more than she did, but not letting that on. Not letting anything on, not even how I had no intention of going with her.

She found that out on her own, when instead of walking to her car come closing time, I got on my bike and took off, not even giving her so much as a glance. And I knew she was watching me, expecting at least an explanation.

I couldn’t give her that. This was my way out, and fucking her over was the only way she’d leave me alone.

All of this was my doing. I wanted to break her. I did it so she’d pull away.

So if someone could please explain to me why the fuck it pissed me off every time she did pull away, that would be great. ’Cause I sure as hell didn’t get it.

“Dude, the soup is boiling.”

J.R.’s warning jarred my focus. Cursing, I quickly turned down the heat and stirred the thick broth, grateful it hadn’t burned.

Fucking women. Nate couldn’t hire a bunch of men to wait tables? What the fuck was wrong with him?

“I’m gonna get started on the marinara,” J.R. said, grabbing a pot off the shelf above me.

I jerked my chin.

“You’re such a go-getter, J.R. Good for you,” he mumbled, laughing at himself.

I turned my head and glared. He took a step back, his one hand raised defensively, and moved his pot to the other set of burners on the other side of the grill.

Christ, I was going to be sharing a kitchen with this idiot. My days were going to feel a helluva lot longer now. I just knew it.

“I loved your story yesterday, Shay,” Kali said.

“Really? Thanks! I always wonder if people think they’re stupid or not. I go a little nuts on there.”

Grabbing the tray of chicken I’d already prepped and seasoned, I moved to the worktop in front of the window and started dumping extra seasoning on the breasts, which I had no fucking reason for doing, except that doing it put me closer to that window, which put me closer to her.

I glanced up, saw Shayla standing on the other side of the bar where Kali stood making drinks, got those eyes I couldn’t get enough of for a full fucking second, and then watched her turn away, looking uneasy.

Goddamn it. She shouldn’t be turning away and looking uneasy.

What the fuck? Yes, she should.

“No, it was great! I’m so excited for you,” Kali said, filling another cup of with water after passing one to Shayla. “Your stories are always so cute and funny. Mine suck.”

“They do not. You’re crazy.” Shayla took a sip of her drink, met my eyes again because I sure as fuck wasn’t paying attention to chicken that didn’t need any more seasoning, and was only watching her, then took those eyes away from me as she moved away. “I’m gonna go wipe down the tables,” she called out.

“I’ll help. Hold on.” Kali turned toward the window, sipping her water.

“What story is she talking about? Is she a writer or something?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

It pissed me off I was even having to ask this question. I should’ve known this. She had told me everything else about her life. Why the fuck wouldn’t she tell me this?

Kali looked up at me and slowly lowered her glass. Her eyes were round. “Are you talking to me?” she whispered, staring at me like I’d just appeared in front of her out of thin air.

Jesus Christ. “Is anyone else standing there where I’m lookin’?” I growled. “What do you think?”

“Well…it’s just, you never talk to me,” she said, leaning closer. “Like ever. Are you feeling okay? Is something happening? Are we under attack right now?”

“Are you gonna answer my fuckin’ question or not?”

“Sorry. This is just weird.” She quickly leaned back. “It’s, uh, Snapchat. Her Snapchat story. That’s what we were talking about.”

“What the fuck is Snapchat?”

“Dude.” J.R. came to stand beside me, looking amused. “Even my grandmother knows what Snapchat is. Have you been living under a rock or something?” He gestured at the tray. “Pretty sure that chicken has enough seasoning now.”

Motherfucker. “Did I fuckin’ ask what you thought about the chicken?” I gritted out through clenched teeth. “Go work on your fuckin’ marinara.”

J.R. chuckled and kept standing there.

Great.

“It’s an app,” Kali said hurriedly. “You know, the little icons on your phone. You can download them. It’s another social media thing. Like Instagram, but it started the filter craze. Now everyone is biting off Snapchat. Even Facebook. Wait…um, you know what social media is, right? Do you have an iPhone? Do you even know what that is?”

I glared at her.

She pointed at me. “I’m going to take that as a yes. Anyway, Shay adds snaps to her story and anyone who follows her can watch them. She snaps all the time.”

Snaps? What the fuck is she talking about?

“If you have your phone, I can show you,” she offered, smiling kindly at me.

I hesitated for the briefest second, not knowing what the fuck I was doing asking about this or why I even cared, but then I quit wanting to hesitate, cursed and wiped my hands off to dig the phone out of my back pocket.

There was just some shit not worth fighting against.

“I guess I’m wiping off tables alone!” Shayla yelled out from the front of the restaurant.

“Shoot. Sorry.” Kali grabbed a rag from underneath the counter, then rolled up on her toes to get closer, holding on to the lip of the window for balance. “Her user name is HairbyShay. One word,” she whispered before hurrying off.

I looked down at the phone, not knowing what the fuck to do, then feeling eyes on me, turned my head and saw Annoying As Fuck grinning like an idiot while he motioned for me to hand it over.

“I got you,” he said. “Watch the master work.”

“Whatever.” I gave up my phone and looked out into the restaurant, watching Shayla smile at something Kali was saying.

“Dude, your shit isn’t password protected? Are you insane?”

“Who the fuck is gettin’ into that phone besides me?” I bit out. “Unless I give permission, nobody’s touchin’ my shit. What the fuck do I need a password for?”

J.R. thought for a second, then nodded his head. “Good point. You’re scary. Okay. Quick run-down.” He held the phone out and showed me what he was doing. “Here’s the app. You need a user name to get started. Once you lock one in, and don’t try taking badassmotherfuckincook ’cause that’s mine, you go up here to Add Friends by Username, and voilà. Enter that shit.”

I took my phone from him and jerked my chin, moved fast out of the kitchen, and kicked the back door open, yelling, “I’m stepping out for a smoke!”

“Ah! And by that, you mean—”

The back door shut behind me, cutting off bullshit I didn’t need pointed out to me right now.

I knew what the fuck I was doing. I was taking a smoke. And I was looking at snap chap stories or whatever the fuck they were called.

Leaning back against the building, I lit up, filled my lungs with smoke, and then clicked on the app, typing in the first username that came to mind so I could hurry this shit up.

Username.

Yeah. That would do just fine.

Remembering J.R.’s instructions, I swiped up and clicked on Add Friends by Username, typed in HairbyShay, found her, fuck yeah, and hit add. Then I just stared at the fucking thing. I didn’t know what to do. He didn’t tell me.

Shit. Why didn’t he tell me what to do next? What the fuck? I seriously hate that kid.

There was a square thing in the bottom left corner. I clicked that, then got out of it because that didn’t do a damn thing. I tried the three dots in the right corner, and there, right the fuck there, there she was.

I smoked and watched her sweet, heart-shaped face fill my screen.

She had flowers on her head and she was showing off her place and looking right at me, like she was talking to me, just like she used to. Then the video ended, and I almost smashed my phone, wanting it back and not knowing how to get it, but another one began.

I watched her like I’d never watched anything before in my life. I never felt this focused.

She had stupid shit on her face in one video, making her look like a goddamn cat, and her voice sounded weird, but who gave a fuck? She was talking, and she was smiling. And then it was her, nothing on her face and no change to her voice, just her, so fucking sweet and cute.

Those big brown eyes staring right at me. She waved and blew me a kiss.

I choked on smoke and felt my dick jerk against my zipper. Fuck.

Coughing, I flicked ash onto the pavement and pressed my knuckles to the front of my jeans. Then I took another inhale and leaned back, eyes pinching shut as I rested my head on the building and blew smoke out above me. I needed to calm down.

Goddamn it. What the fuck was I even doing with this shit?

When I looked at the screen again, it was over, and she was gone. She wasn’t talking to me anymore, and I thought good, because I knew I didn’t deserve to be watching her the way I was doing and thinking this was for me and nobody else.

Then my thumb slid on the screen, pushing past advertisements, and there she was again.

I clicked on HairbyShay, not knowing what it would do and wondering why she settled on that name instead of Shayla, but her videos started up, and I stopped wondering.

Fuck it. Fuck it all.

I took another hit and watched her videos again, pretending they were only for me.