Page 55 of Wife Number One

“You don’t mean that.” She reached for me again.

I flinched away because I so fucking did. “Get out!” I roared.

She blinked at the tone I’d never used with her before, scrambling back, grabbing her clothes, and clutching them to her chest as she ran from my room.

That rush of self-loathing cloaked me again. This time it was half because I’d managed to upset yet another woman. And half because I should have known better than to think some dumb-ass kid from Saint View had a hope in hell of passing those tests.

Thinking I could do anything in medicine had been as stupid as my body wanting Kara.

Neither were going to happen.

16

HAYDEN

Isighed heavily, letting the groan of the diner door cover up my frustration. A fishy sort of smell lingered in the small, grubby space, and I approached the counter, wrinkling my nose at the unpleasant odor. I had to clear my throat to get the attention of the bored waitress scrolling on her phone.

She finally glanced up. “Oh shit. Hey. Sorry. What can I get you?”

It was clear she wasn’t used to having people to serve. The place was deserted. And I couldn’t blame people for not wanting to eat here. What was that smell?

Nevertheless, I forced a smile I didn’t feel. “Was just wondering if the manager is around?”

Her eyebrows dove together, and her demeanor completely flipped to defensive. “Why? You want to make a complaint or something?”

I shook my head quickly. “No, no. Nothing like that. I just wanted to see if there was any work going here. I’m a…chef.” I practically choked on the word I’d never been much good at using, but chef did sound better than cook. If I was going to get another job, I needed all the bonus points I could get.

She gestured around the empty restaurant with her overly long, fake fingernails. “A chef, huh? Well, la di da. You want to cook for all our customers?”

She had a point. I pushed back off the counter. “Thanks anyway.”

“You ain’t even going to buy a coffee?” she called after me.

But I pretended I didn’t hear. For all I knew it was the coffee machine producing that foul odor.

Getting back into my car and switching the engine on, I sighed. Fuck Simon. The job in his kitchen hadn’t exactly been my dream, but it had been a damn sight better than any of the other places I’d tried to find work. No one in Saint View seemed to be hiring, and I couldn’t blame them. The people in this area didn’t have a lot of disposable cash, and times were tough. Eating out was one of the first things people cut from their budgets.

There were a few other diners on my list, but it hardly seemed worthwhile bothering. What the hell else was I going to do though? If I couldn’t get a job cooking, my next attempts at finding a job would have to be cleaning toilets.

I could go back to the Sinners. Back to selling drugs. Running guns. Back to holding women against their will because some fucking asshole with a higher rank said I had to.

Or I could go to Luca and ask if his job offer was still on the table. The thought of a salary with six figures and a part share in the ownership had kept me up all night, fueled with confusion.

And regret.

I wanted to turn back the clock and change my mind.

I found myself rolling down a familiar street I’d avoided for the last five years because it brought back too many memories. I forced myself down it now, forced my foot to stay on the gas and my fingers to keep the wheel straight.

If I was thinking of accepting Luca’s offer, then I needed to be reminded of why I’d left the world he controlled.

I parked a couple of houses down from the decrepit building we’d once used as a clubhouse. It was in even worse shape now than it had been back then. Windows smashed or boarded up. The lawn full of weeds and so overgrown it was probably waist-high. Porch sagging so bad I’d bet the boards wouldn’t even take my weight.

It was clear nobody had occupied the house for some time. Same with all the surrounding houses. The street was deserted.

I got out and wandered along the cracked pavement to stand by the rusted mailbox, barely clinging to the pole it was mounted on.

My blood pounded in my veins. My fingers shook with the memories being here produced.

---