Page 13 of Out of the Dark

She nods but doesn't respond, and I can see her retreating back into herself.

"Well," I say, wanting to give her an escape route if she needs it, "it's getting late. We should probably both get somesleep." It’s not really that late, but it’s clear she doesn’t want to be rude by leaving right after I bought her dinner.

"Right." She stands to toss out the now-empty plates and put the leftovers in the fridge. "Thank you for dinner and, well, everything else."

"You're welcome. Goodnight, Claire."

"Goodnight."

As she disappears down the hallway, I pour myself another drink and sink onto the couch. What am I doing? Taking in a stranger is one thing, but letting her stay indefinitely? Shane would tell me I'm insane. Hell,I'mtelling myself I'm insane. I’m the type of guy who needs my own space and avoids committing to things like this, precisely because I know that attachments can turn bad quickly. I keep up my serious, aloof persona for a reason, but it’s gone completely out the window since she got here.

But something about her makes me want to help her, to protect her. I don't know what this is, but I do know one thing: my life just got a lot more complicated.

CHAPTER NINE

CLAIRE

The comfort of Mark's apartment has spoiled me. As I sit in my van with the engine running to keep the heat on, I find myself missing the cozy bedroom I've been staying in. The thought of going back to living in my car full-time makes my stomach churn with dread. How did I manage to live like this for almost a month?

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the night ahead. My reflection in the rearview mirror stares back at me, plain but more lively than I’ve been over the last few weeks otherwise. The bright red letters on the dash count the passing minutes until I have no choice but to go inside and clock in.

The pizza parlor is mostly empty aside from an older couple sitting in the corner booth. It’s a couple hours before the dinner rush will start, which means spending too much time in this building. Nate and Randy are behind the counter, laughing loudly at some crude joke I can't quite hear. I slippast them, hoping to avoid their attention, but Jackson, my boss, spots me from his office.

"Claire, we missed you!" he calls out with an obnoxious grin. His gaze lingers on my body a little too long despite my loose clothing.

I force a small smile. "Well, I’m back."

He chuckles, but there's something in his eyes that makes my skin crawl. "I’m glad. Having you around makes the evenings here so much nicer."

I mumble a thank you and hurry to clock in, but I can feel his eyes on me the whole time. The other guys are no better, their conversations filled with vulgarities. I attempt to block out the crude conversation and keep my head down as I make my way to the counter to keep myself occupied by folding boxes and wrapping silverware.

Relief rolls through me when Randy shouts out that I’ve got a couple deliveries to make. There’s another delivery driver here, of course, but he’s too busy standing at the back door smoking cigarettes to care.

Oh well, more tips for me.

The first few deliveries go smoothly, and I even get a twenty-dollar tip at one of them, but soon enough I’m forced to return to work. While navigating the city can be stressful, especially with the subpar GPS on my cheap phone, it’s become easier with every trip, and the environment at work has become increasingly uncomfortable. I’m starting to see why I’m the only woman who works here.

The warm air envelops me as I push through the doors and make my way to the back to check for any more deliveries. It looks like our other delivery driver finally decided to make a trip, because he’s nowhere to be found and there are no pizzas for me to deliver.

Nate and Randy are deep in a conversation about some party they went to over the weekend, their boisterous laughter filling the room. I try to tune them out, but it’s no use. Some of the words they use are ones I haven’t heard before, but it’s abundantly clear they’re talking about sex.

An uncomfortable knot twists in my stomach as I try to focus on the task in front of me, and pretend to ignore them. But Jackson chooses that moment to walk up behind me, his body close enough that I can smell his too-strong cologne. My breath catches in my throat and my shoulders tense at his close proximity.

"Claire, can I talk to you for a second?"

I turn to face him, taking a small step backward, crossing my arms, and putting on a fake smile. "Sure, what do you need to talk about?"

He gestures for me to follow him to his office, and I hesitate for a moment before complying. Did I do something wrong? Am I getting fired? I thought I was doing a good job, but maybe not. It’s not like I have any work experience to base that off of.

Jackson’s office is small and cluttered. The air is thick with the scent of stale pizza and that god-awful cologne. He closes the door behind us, and panic rises in my chest.

"I wanted to talk to you about your performance," he says as he leans against his desk.

Oh no, here it goes. I inhale and brace myself for the bad news.

"You've been doing great work, and I think it's time we discuss a raise."

I blink in surprise. "Oh, um, thank you. That would be really helpful."

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