Page 14 of Redeeming Rabbit

He frowned. “No. I’m telling you to get help. Not working for the rest of the week is the consequence of you not accepting that help.”

“Is this even fucking legal?”

He shrugged. “If you’re gonna work here, you need your head on straight.”

The front door of the shop buzzed, and the receptionist greeted Sage.

“I’m not talking to him.”

Wasp’s jaw ticked. “All right. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Fuck you, and fuck this place.”

I pushed past him and stormed out of the building without saying shit to Sage, whose gaze scorched my back as I left.

7

Rabbit

Since work was off the table until Monday, I got my shit together and marched up the block to the station, leaving my bike parked at the shop. I was too pissed to drive. Admittedly, I was also worried about the condition I’d find it in since I still couldn’t remember the trip home. I’d lose my shit if I’d fucked up my ride—or if it was missing altogether—and I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to deal with that shit.

Determined to ignore the possibilities, I stormed through the station door like a goddamn thundercloud before remembering I didn’t want to draw attention. Everyone would find out what had happened soon enough. There was no reason for me to spark their curiosity early. Ignoring the few questioning glances directed my way, I headed for the stairs. Two flights up, I entered my room, grateful I hadn’t locked the door this morning because my keys were MIA. Not a good fucking sign. Plugging in my cell phone to charge, I paced until it powered up. Notifications popped up, but I ignored them and fired off a text to my little sister.

I tried to tell you I couldn’t do it.

Rose

That wasn’t 100% on you. Mom was… being Mom. Are you okay? I tried to call, but it went straight to voicemail. I texted, but no response. WTF??? I was worried about you.

Well, now I felt even shittier than before.

Sorry. My phone was dead.

Are you okay?

Rose and I were close, but I sure as shit hadn’t given her the details of my discharge from the Army. She was smart enough to figure out that stressful situations triggered my anxiety but didn’t need to know the severity of my meltdowns. I’d prefer she took me for an ill-tempered asshole than a shut-in who could barely stand to leave home.

How would she react if I told her the truth?

Irritated with myself for even considering burdening her with my bullshit, I raked my fingers through my hair. She worried too much as it was, and I sure wouldn’t saddle her with more drama. Tap, tap, tap on the dresser grounded me, reminding me this was real life. I was back in Seattle, no longer risking death for Uncle Sam in the desert. Nor was I standing in front of my mom’s trailer, rejected and unwanted, wondering what the hell to do with my life.

Here, I was safe—home—and that was all Rose needed to know.

Yeah, I’m good. Did you get a ride to work?

Yep.

Her lack of details pricked my senses.

From who?

Ryan.

I immediately called her.

She answered on the first ring, her voice a whisper. “You know I’m at work, right?”

Yeah, I did, but right then, I didn’t care. “Who the fuck is Ryan?”

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