Page 27 of SALT

"Elijah got trashed downtown. I had to go pick him up."

My eyes narrow on his as I stab the cake, leaving the spoon for him. "Responsible Elijah? We are talking about your brother, correct?"

"He hasn't been handling the breakup with Annie well," he says before taking one last bite and hopping up onto the counter.

"Has he forgotten he broke up with her?"

"He's aware. I don't think he regrets it. I just think it hurts. Everyone thought she was the one, but now that she's gone, I can see that she was never the one for him. Elijah carried that with him every day, torn between caring about someone and not wanting to let down friends and family who basically had their lives planned out for them from the moment they graduated from high school. That's what living in a small town is—rumors and outdated conventions."

Before I can say a word, Stormy returns. "Hey, I grabbed you a fork for that cake you have in the cooler."

"Are you planning on eating my cake too?"

I know she said she brought ME a fork, but let's be real, the girl has literally eaten all my other snacks. She's not fooling anyone with that.

"Nooo," she smarts before she looks up and finds we aren't alone. "Didn't know you had company. Should I come back?"

Parker slides off the counter and takes two long strides in her direction. "I'm Parker," he holds out his hand for her to shake.

"I'm not interested in measuring your dick."

The water I just drank literally flies out of my nose, "Shit." I laugh as I grab a roll of paper towels and try to pat dry all the papers I've been working on all morning.

"Well, I wasn't going to ask you to measure my dick."

"No? What were you going to ask me?" She turns with her hand on her hip, giving him her full attention while I make a mental note that she has no qualms about saying whatever the fuck she wants.

"I was going to ask if you knew what material my shirt was made out of."

"Read the tag," she offers, agitated by his antics.

"I can't," he pulls at his collar. "You do work in the team shop, don't you?"

"It would appear that way."

"Well, then, you should probably know about shirts. This one, for example," he pulls it away from his chest. "Feel it."

She quirks a brow but extends her hand, running her fingers over the fabric. "It's smooth, moisture-wicking. Feels good to the touch. What's it made of?"

She reaches up for his collar to check the tag, but he snatches her wrist. "It's ninety-nine percent boyfriend material."

I laugh as Stormy says, "Wow, are you really that lame?"

He shrugs. "Maybe, but I made you smile." Then, turning to me, he asks, "What time do you get off today? Connor said I could borrow his Marucci bat to see if I liked it. I was going to see if you'd swing by the house with me since you know the code."

Technically, I can leave whenever I want. We aren't open to the public yet. I'm not sure I love the idea of going back to the house, but I did leave a few things there. I could grab them. Plus, I don't care to wait around here looking pathetic while Everett's out prancing another woman around town on a lunch date.

"We can go now if you want. I just need to close the computer and grab my bag."

"Sweet. Do you want me to toss these boxes in the dumpster on the way out?"

"Yes, please," I answer, shutting my computer and tossing my cake trash in the can before grabbing my bag off the counter.

"Does that mean I get to leave too?" Stormy chimes in as I'm shutting down.

Shit. Everett sent her down here, but he never told me I was a manager or that I would even be training anyone. He's been really good at telling me to act like an adult, but what's his excuse? He's avoiding me, which is equally childish.

"I don't see why not. Unless you need the hours? I can walk you down to concessions. I'm sure they could use a hand?—"

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