Page 41 of Shades of Silver City

“Doesn’t mean he’s good for you.” She points the knife at me. “You shouldn’t be with him out of obligation.”

“It’s not—”

“Or worse, out of comfort.” She raises a brow and returns to chopping.

“Yeah, yeah.” Nine years I’ve known him. Two years we’ve dated officially. I thought we’d grow closer, that our love would grow stronger.

I do love Reed. I do.

But I’m still waiting for it to blossom into something…more.

Is Mellie right? Am I with him out of comfort? Is it because he was the one I’d cry with at night, after our foster father beat me? Is it because of a sense of misplaced safety? Being with him—as infuriating as it is at times—is predictable, which, in this chaotic world, is saying something.

While I watch Mellie work, the Phantom’s offer flickers through my mind. Three thousand silvers a week. It’s a temptation that presses closer with each breath I take. I could get my own place. Maybe then, Reed and I would have space and privacy to explore our more.

But do I even want more with him?

I sip my coffee.

It doesn’t hurt that the man handing me the opportunity is handsome as all hell. An image of his boyish grin and untamed dark-blond hair flits through my mind. With those tight jeans, tattoos, and leather jacket… Nope. Don’t go there, brain. I’d never be disloyal to Reed, for one. For two, he’s a freaking gang leader.

Bad news.

I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms and groan, ignoring Mellie’s curious gaze. What I need is to take control of my own life—to not give in to pretty promises and false temptations.

Patting my pockets, I locate my phone and slip it out. I press the button to turn it on, but the screen stays black. A sorrowful reflection of my face stares back at me.

It’s dead.

The phone, and, in a sense, me. A part of me died the night I lost my parents, and pieces of me keep dying each day I’m stuck in this life. I’m alive in body—my heart beats in a steady rhythm—but my soul is wilted.

“Helllloooo?” Mellie waves a gloved hand in front of me. “Did you hear me?”

“What?” I snap my attention to her and chug the rest of my coffee now that it’s officially at an acceptable temperature. “Sorry—I was zoned out.”

“No shit.” She snaps her gloves off, tossing them into a trash bin behind the bar. “Go get some rest.” She reaches into her pocket, yanking out a set of keys and tossing them onto the bar. “Take my couch. Hell, take my bed if you want. Just go get some sleep.”

“Mel.” I shake my head, touched by her kindness. “I appreciate that, but I can’t—”

“Nuh-uh.” She puts her hand up. “Axel’s getting picked up by his Nana soon. You’ll have the whole place to yourself.”

“He’s up there by himself?”

“What would you have me do?” Crossing her arms, she juts her chin out. “Jeremiah’s a good-for-nothing piece of—” She swipes a hand over her face, a stress line deepening on her forehead. “Ax is sick—again—and Jeremiah refuses to take him. Says he can’t afford to get sick.”

Rich, coming from him.

“Shit, Mel.” I chew at my bottom lip as guilt blossoms inside of me. Even though I have nothing to be guilty for, I can’t help but pity her in this situation. “Why don’t you go be with him? I’ll take your shift this morning.”

She scoffs, narrowing her eyes at me. “Have you seen yourself today?” She clucks her tongue. “I don’t think so.”

I shrug. “It’s not like I have anything else to do. Your son needs you.”

Mellie shifts her weight, her attention wandering toward the upstairs. “Fine,” she relents. “It’s not like I’ll have enough money either way.” She pauses. “And, girl? You owe me.”

Using Mellie’s bathroom, I brush out my white-blonde hair and tie it up in a tight bun. A few tendrils fall free, framing my face. Rummaging through her makeup, I locate a few products to help liven me up. Her rich brown foundation is too dark for my creamy complexion, so I forgo that. Instead, I slather on some dark, winged eyeliner. My favorite lipstick is still tucked into my pocket from yesterday, so I apply that, too.

I tuck my bear safely away in her bedroom and try my best to scrub away the oils staining my fingers. Eventually, I give up, leaving them slightly tainted with color.

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