Page 62 of Boulder's Weight

Kelsey

I wipe down the counter one last time, the mixed smell of coffee and disinfectant filling my nostrils.

My hands ache from a long shift, but the physical fatigue is almost welcoming—it keeps my mind from wandering to darker places, and I’m grateful for the distraction.

The café is quiet now, empty of customers, with only the occasional soft meow breaking the silence.

After we close up, it becomes peaceful—just me and Astra and a dozen rescue cats who don't care about my past or the people hunting me.

"You can head out if you want," Astra says, emptying the last of the coffee grounds into the compost bin. "I've got the rest covered."

"You sure?" I ask, though I'm already untying my apron, eager to get home and collapse into bed.

She nods, giving me a tired smile. "Get some rest. You look exhausted."

I don't tell her I haven't been sleeping well, that every noise outside my window jerks me awake, heart racing, my body ready to run.

Instead, I thank her and grab my bag from the back room.

"See you tomorrow," I call as I head for the door.

"Text me when you get home safe."

The evening air hits my face as I step outside, cooler than it's been all day.

I pull my jacket tighter around myself, scanning the street out of habit—checking for unfamiliar cars, suspicious figures, the black truck that's been haunting my nightmares.

That's when I seehim.

Boulder is leaning against his motorcycle, arms crossed over his chest, his face a mask I can't read.

My heart does a strange little stutter—partially relieved at seeing him, partly worried from his unusual stillness.

I approach him cautiously. "What are you doing here?"

He doesn't smile, doesn't move toward me like he usually would. "Need to talk to you. Not here."

His voice is flat, controlled in a way that sends a chill down my spine.

In my gut, I know something's wrong… really wrong.

"My place?" I suggest, trying to sound casual while my mind tries to figure out what could have happened.

He nods once, handing me a helmet. "Let's go."

I strap it on and move to sit behind him, wrapping my arms around his toned body.

The second I touch him, he almost recoils.

The ride to my apartment is tense, his body rigid against mine, and I don’t know what’s happened.

It’s like there's suddenly a wall between us, even as I’m physically up against his back.

I try to focus on the wind rushing past, the vibration of the motorcycle beneath me.

But my thoughts keep circling back to Boulder's strange mood, the coldness in his eyes.

By the time we reach my building, my nerves are stretched thin.

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