Page 21 of Jesse
It wasn’t just the timing. Jesse’s presentation was all over the place—sauce smeared too thick, garnish missing, portions uneven.
I caught myself wondering if I needed to tape photos of properly plated dishes in front of him, like a checklist for toddlers.
The final straw came as I watched him pile the grilled vegetable mix onto a brisket sandwich. The vibrant colors were gone, replaced with a mushy, unappetizing mess.
“What the hell is that?” I snapped, pointing at the soggy vegetables.
Jesse raised an eyebrow. “Veggies. Grilled. Like you asked.”
“They’re overcooked,” I shot back, stepping closer. “They’ve lost the crunch, no color, just… sludge. It’s because you diced the peppers too small this morning!”
His jaw tightened. “You could’ve added them last. Kept them fresh if it’s such a big deal.”
“That’s not the way it’s supposed to be!” My voice cracked as I threw my hands up. “It’s all wrong! Everything is wrong.”
Jesse flinched, his calm slipping for a moment, before he set the spatula down. “Beck, it’s just vegetables.”
“No, it’s not!” I exploded.
It was everything. The rush, the mistakes, Preston, the truck. It’s all on me.
The walls of the food truck suddenly felt too tight, the heat stifling. My hands were trembling, and I needed to get out.
Without another word, I pushed past Jesse, flinging the door open.
Outside, the cool air hit me like a slap, but it didn’t calm the storm inside. I paced behind the truck, dragging my fingers through my hair, trying to catch my breath.
This was supposed to be my chance to prove I could handle this, that I could step out of my family’s shadow and make something of myself.
Instead, everything was falling apart. Preston had gotten hurt on my watch. My truck was broken.
Whatever this was with Jesse wasn’t working. And with the killer still out there somewhere, nothing felt certain.
A lump rose in my throat, frustration and guilt choking me.
“Beck?”
I turned to see Jesse standing a few feet away, hands shoved into his pockets. His expression wasn’t smug or annoyed, like I’d expected.
It was something almost like concern.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “For earlier. I didn’t mean to push your buttons.”
I snorted, brushing my sleeve across my face. “It’s not just you. It’s just… I wanted this to work so badly, and it’s all going to hell.”
Jesse nodded, his gaze softening. He scratched the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically awkward.
“Look, I don’t have a magic fix, but we’ll get through this rush. Later, we can grab more vegetables, and I’ll cut them your way. Deal?” Jesse asked.
The simplicity of his offer, the lack of judgment, made my throat tighten again.
“I don’t know,” I muttered. “What if it’s not enough?”
Jesse hesitated, then placed a hand on my shoulder, grounding me.
“It’s one day, Beck. We’ll figure it out. One problem at a time,” he said.
For the first time all day, I felt like I could breathe. Maybe he didn’t have all the answers, but Jesse had a way of making me feel like I didn’t have to carry it all alone.
