Page 48 of Savage Cravings

I had thought I could find something stable for once in my life, but even that seemed to be a distant dream right now.

I stayed in bed and stared at the ceiling. There was no chance of going back to sleep now, but I also couldn’t bring myself to leave the bed. It wasn’t the safest place in the world, but right now, it was the only thing keeping me from freaking out completely.

It wasn’t until the sun was fully out—mid-morning—that I finally dragged myself out of bed and sluggishly made my way into the bathroom.

It was a slow morning.

I hadn’t gone anywhere yesterday, but I had work today. Should I go or should I leave New Orleans for good? I didn’t know anymore.

Indecision bit at me, yet I had the feeling that whatever I decided to do wouldn’t matter anyway.

Fate always caught up to me.

I plasteredon a fake smile as I waited for a man in his late forties and his companion, a younger woman in her early thirties, to decide on what they wanted for dinner.

They were taking their sweet time, as if the decision was life-changing and they didn’t want to make the wrong choice.

“I’ll have the grilled salmon,” the woman ordered. “With a side of steamed broccoli and mashed potatoes.”

I nodded, wrote down the order, and turned to the man.

“A ribeye, rare. Same sides,” the man replied without looking up at me.

“Coming right up,” I said, walking away and dropping off their order for the kitchen.

Last night, I’d decided to stay in New Orleans—just for the month, at least. I couldn’t bring myself to search for news about Chicago. The Heartless Saints MC was infamous, especially to the people in my generation. They grew up seeing him on the news every other weekend, and somehow, Dad had never gotten caught.

If the chapter was destroyed, it would be huge.

It would only be a matter of time before that circulated throughout the country.

But for now, I stayed in ignorant bliss. Just for the night, I told myself.

If the club hadn’t been massacred, then I would leave New Orleans. Knowing Dad, he was probably sending one of his goons after me.

And if they were gone…

I was free, wasn’t I?

I didn’t think there was ever a time in my life that I was free—I hardly knew what the word meant.

But it was something.

For the rest of the night, I worked on autopilot. Drinks were filled, food was brought out, and fake smiles were passed around. I should be ecstatic to be doing something so normal, and a part of me was, but another part felt like something was missing.

As if this wasn’t really what I was supposed to be doing right now. And sometime during the night, a low hum of anxiety had taken a play on my nerves, making me feel uneasy.

It was a little past eleven o’clock when the last customer left, and I was able to work on my cleaning duties. Technically, I was still in training, but the restaurant was so desperate for workers they had put me on as one of the main servers. I lost count of how many times I had messed up tonight, and the only thing that made me feel better was the thought that this was temporary. I wasn’t going to stay here forever.

Still, I was glad when I was able to walk out of the restaurant. I barely said anything to anyone.

Louisiana wasn’t cold by any means, but the stress, exhaustion, and lack of sleep made me feel bone cold.

Suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Pausing, I looked around at whatappearedto be an empty lot, save for the few cars belonging to the employees. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, but I swore it felt like someone was watching me.

And years of living with the MC taught me to always trust my gut instinct. My grip around my car keys tightened, reminding me I could always use them as a weapon—should it come to that.

I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. God, I wasn’t in the kind of headspace for any new trauma. Not that I would ever beprepared for experiencing new traumas in my life, but tonight especially.

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