Page 75 of Fate Awakened

“I know you hate to be late for anything. We’re all waiting for you. The clock’s ticking, Little Ellie.” I gently squeeze her hand, ensuring I don’t mess with the taped IVs. I hold on a second longer, hoping she’ll squeeze back, tense a muscle, anything. But she just lays there, slowly breathing in and out. Taking one last glance, I walk out with Pres.

One significant change that’s happened since returning from Reno is the fact that I’m no longer blindfolded everywhere I go. After discussing my ongoing role with Marlo, Dante offered me a position within their team, and after seeing their caliber firsthand, I didn’t hesitate.

Not to mention I’ve been trying to pry information out of Pres as to who created the software program I’d my hands on. So far, I know it's officially called HUNTER, and it will allegedly revolutionize the war on trafficking. The way Pres talks about it, I can tell she respects the hell out of the engineer who wrote it.

Man, I want to meet him. Maybe I’ll end up on his team.

As we turn into the employee cafeteria, workers are just setting out the buffet-style lunch setup. I inhale, taking in the deep-fried salty aroma of french fries fresh out of the oil and cheesy marinated pizza, pepperonis still sizzling out of the ovens.

Pres hands me a plate before grabbing three large slices and loading up on fries. I take a moment admiring her backside, wondering where she puts any of this food because her long, lean Pilates instructor body had no extra curves. Not that I mind a woman with a full figure. On the contrary, I love women of all sizes. But Pres looked more like the type to have a salad and hold the dressing.

“There a reason you're staring at my ass?”

Shit!

“Oh ah,” My eyes jump to hers, and I see humor in them. I try explaining, “I was just wondering where you put it,” I finish, running my free hand through my hair and adjusting my glasses. She stares at me curiously as I grab myself a couple of slices.

“Put what?” she asks, irritation leaking into her tone, her cheeks flush.

“I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. Fuck. You’re in great shape, amazing, really. I just didn’t expect you to actually eat —like real, delicious, greasy food. Most women who look like you are all kale and green smoothies. It's refreshing,” I stumble through my explanation, and I’m not sure if I’m making it better or worse when I’m saved her response due to three dozen sweaty young CrossFit model-looking recruits flooding the room.

“Hey, Pres,” one of the guys with, “Team Leader” displayed across the front says as he walks up to the line behind us. She smiles at him and throws her hand up in a wave.

“Hey Ryder, how are they holding up?” Her voice seems softer somehow.

“No one has passed out yet, so you know it's still early,” he responds, grabbing half of the pizza in front of him. Pres giggles, and irritation fills me as my eyes glance between them.

“If you need help with that, I hear you’ve got ’em running bravo later. You know how they hate to lose to a girl,” she pouts the last part, her eyes sparkling at him.

“Aren’t you on babysitting duty?” he asks, eyes glancing my way as I scoop up a few fries pretending I’m not entirely eavesdropping on the conversation. I clench my jaw.

Oh, so Ryder gets flirty nice Pres, and I get the chip on her shoulder.

I move around her, grab a fruit punch Prime, and stalk off toward an empty table without saying a word to her. I’m not sure why it bothers me so much, but just once, I’d like to see her smile at me with no irritation or sass behind it.

Why do I care who she smiles at?

After throwing myself into the chair, I pull out my phone and AirPod case, hoping to throw on some music and tune all of this out. I can tell I’m tired. I’m never irritable, but with everything that's happened this week, the stress must be wearing my patience thin.

“Trying to get rid of me, Hef?” she says, setting down her plate, which I see has two brownies and a small bag of popcorn added.

“Doesn’t seem to be working,” I snap. “You don’t have to babysit me. I’ll be fine,” I finish, throwing my AirPod into my ear without looking up.

I’m being an ass. I know it, and yet, I can’t shake my irritation. She rips the AirPod out, and I look up, surprised by the audacity of the move. She leans down to be at eye level with me.

“What’s your problem?” she asks, visibly confused and angry. Her eyes scan mine, asking silent questions I can’t quite catch through my anger.

“You’re my problem. Why are you so nice to everyone but me?” I whisper shout the words at her, hearing the absolute absurdity of them the moment they come out. She’s done everything to ensure I’m getting through this since Elle arrived. Feeding me, giving me space, filling my time with work so I have a purpose.

Dammit!

She recoils, her face displaying the shock she feels. I know immediately that I’ve fucked up, but I don’t know what to say to fix my irrational outburst, and I want her answer. She bites her bottom lip shaking her head slightly as if deciding what to say and having that argument in her head.

“You don’t think I’m nice to you?” she asks finally, frustration filling her tone.

“Forget it. I’ll take this back to my workstation, so you can enjoy your duty-free lunch with your friends.” The way I say 'friends' is dripping with disgust, and I cringe internally for letting my emotion slide into it.

I’m not even mad. I need to work anyway. I’m fucking this all up.

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