Page 13 of The Lair

That was pretty bad, and this might be right up there with it.

As expected, Travis doesn’t buy my smile or my words. If his massive arms crossed in front of his equally enormous chest areany indication, not only does he not buy it, but he’s angry with me. Again.

I press my thighs together and hide my lower area with my intertwined hands, hoping and praying and then hoping some more that he doesn’t think I’m being a weirdo.

“All’s fine and dandy.”Not.

My boss watches me with quiet fury, standing very still right outside the door. The supply closet isn’t big, so if he took a single step, he’d be in my face in seconds. But he doesn’t move or say anything at all.

That familiar weight reappears in the middle of my chest. Flashbacks from that day in Jada’s class assault my head while my brain chantsBloody Alliewith a vengeance.

Why did this have to happen now?

With the light coming from the bar at his back, Travis’s face is clouded in darkness. Even so, I don’t need to see it to know his left cheek is probably ticking with annoyance, or his eyes are narrowed at me.

I don’t need to look at him because I sneak glances at his face more often than I should.

“Why are you in the supply closet instead of working?” he asks in a tone that isn’t nice but also isn’t rude.

I know lying is bad—most of the time. I have been and still am forced to do it from time to time, even if it makes me hate myself every single day. So maybe that’s why, as Travis shifts on his feet and appears a whole foot taller, I tell him the truth.

“I just got my period.”

The words feel sharp on my tongue.

Travis stares ahead, not saying anything, waiting for me to elaborate. So, I take a shaky breath and remind myself Travis is a grown man who won’t make fun of me for this.

He doesn’t know what happened. He doesn’t know who I am. Who Ireallyam.

“It stained my jeans. I was looking for something I could wear for the rest of my shift.”

When a beat of silence goes by, followed by five more, I’m pretty sure I broke him.

Everything I know about Travis Ward I have learned against my will. It’s not that I don’t care about him. It’s just that he doesn’t speak much, let alone share the details of his personal life with his co-workers. But Jude and Sandra have told me some things about him, and so has his uncle Neil, who he inherited the bar from. The old man stops by sometimes and is known for joking around—the polar opposite of his nephew.

Over the past thirteen months, I have learned that Travis is an ex-Navy SEAL and is thirty-seven, has two dogs, lives on a farm somewhere not far from The Lair, and hasn’t been in a relationship in years.

Thank you, Uncle Neil, for that last piece of information.

I also know he’s an only child, has no kids, and grew up with his uncle (no aunt) before he enlisted, which must mean he doesn’t have much experience with periods. I’m assuming.

That would explain the deafening silence and the way the air seems to shift around us, turning awkward for the first time since we met.

“But I’m fine,” I’m quick to amend. “If I could run to my apartment?—”

“What do you need?”

My only reply is to stand very still and wait for some huffing and puffing. But when none of that happens, I ask, “What do you mean?”

“From the store. What do you need?”

I’m pretty sure my eyes are bugging out of my skull as I stare at him, waiting for an “I’m just kidding. Go back to work” that never comes.

My boss, this stoic man who has never given me any reason to think he likes me in the first place, is now asking me what I need from the store?

“I don’t have all day, Allie,” he grumbles, snapping me back to the present.

“Sorry. Yeah, um, I need tampons. And a pair of leggings.”

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