Page 33 of Faking It

I waited half an hour before enquiring with the other bartender. He told me she’d clocked out for the night. The next morning, I flew to Paris for an interview. When I returned to San Diego and re-visited the bar, they told me she’d quit the next day.

She crossed my mind occasionally during the next six years, and I kept hoping she was okay. It’s a relief to know she’s alive, but something tells me she’s not well. There’s something wrong. Something about that night felt so wrong.

An impatient tap on my shoulder makes me look down. “Being fashionably late is my thing, cousin. Hello.” Jared looks me up and down with a smirk. “You’re not even fashionable. Just late.”

I scoff, my eyes searching the room. “I’ve been here for a minute, looking all over for you.”

“Well, now that you’ve seen me, I’m outta here,” he replies, twirling his finger. “I’m already fifty percent fucked up. These people can’t handle me at one hundred.”

“I’m looking for Ana Kent. She’s working here tonight. Have you seen her?”

“Yes, can you believe it? I felt so bad when I saw her behind the bar. We really have to help her, Gideon—”

I grab his shoulders. “Focus. Where did you see her?”

Jared nods, jerking his head toward the balcony door. “Saw her dash out a few minutes ago.” He frowns, peering at me. “Don’t tell me you messed with her again.”

I shake my head at him while turning to go, marching through the balcony door, and down the stairs.

“Whatever you did to her, you’d better fix it. I have the perfect plan to get her rehired,” Jared announces, following me.

“Not now, Jared.” Not until I know she’s okay. Seeing that fear in her eyes when I interrupted Michael, the way she looked at me before didn’t compare. She was on the verge of getting violated tonight, and she knew it.

And it shook the living daylights out of me.

“There she is,” Jared mumbles as we bound down the front steps. She’s sitting on a low wall, her arms wrapped around her as she rocks back and forth.

Her body jerks intermittently as we approach. The closer I get, the clearer I see her tears. They run down her cheeks in slow motion, gently curving from left to right. The sight tugs on my heartstrings. Like six years ago, I want to scoop her up and comfort her.

But I don’t.

After what just happened, the last thing Ana needs is someone touching her.

“I’m sorry,” is the only words I can find. The only words that make sense.

Her head slowly lifts. Her tear-filled eyes shift from me, to Jared, then back to me. “I shouldn’t have taken this gig,” she mutters, then drops her head again, sobbing.

Jared glances at me, looking as helpless as I feel. “Is there someone we can call?” he offers.

“Tori—my best friend. I can’t get her cell, though. Called an Uber. Twenty minutes.”

“Do you mind if I wait with you?” I ask.

She looks up at me again, giving me a long stare during which I brace myself for a solid no. Then she nods, and my insides warm with the same pleasurable sensation I experienced when I saw her earlier.

Jared gives me a thumbs-up sign when I mouth to him that I’ve got her. I sit beside Ana, careful to leave some space between us. Ana wipes her face and straightens her body.

“Thanks for what you did,” she murmurs. “If you hadn’t come…” Her voice trails on another sob. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually cry like this.”

“You just endured a disturbing situation. People have cried for less,” I reply.

She sighs harshly. “I don’t know what about me that makes men…” Another harsh sigh leaves her slightly parted lips, and she shakes her head.

After a long beat, when I realize she’s done talking, I offer an advice that’s been on the forefront of my mind while searching for her. “You should report him. Call the cops, Ana.”

To my surprise, she flies to her feet, her wide eyes lashing me. “Cops? Are you crazy?”

“What’s crazy about reporting a man who almost violated you?” I ask, frowning as I stand.

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