Page 15 of Ruthless Desires: Vol. One
She grimaces but holds her tongue. I know what she’s thinking, anyway.
“I’m not in denial.” I sniffle. “I know he probably…”
But I can’t say it—can’t say that he probably got fed up with me saying no to him for months and finally cheated.
“Maybe there’s a little denial,” she says gently.
With a stifled sob, I nod. It’s stupid.I’mstupid. But there’s a part of me that hopes he just doesn’t want to tell me where he went so Ithinkhe cheated when he didn’t. Some game of manipulation to force me into realizing that he’s reaching the end of his patience with me. It’s awful and toxic—Ava would probably call it abusive—but it at least feels a little better.
“He’s been giving me the silent treatment all week,” I whisper. “I hate being at home.”
Ava gives me a sad look as I brush away my tears. I can’t throw a pity party at work. My boss is nice, but if she finds out I made customers uncomfortable by crying up front, she’ll kill me.
And, of course, this is the exact moment a new wave of customers step into the shop. No, not a new wave. It’s the three men who’ve started coming in weekly. Two of them—Elliot and Oliver—head straight for the bathroom, but Rhett hangs out near the counter, typing on his phone.
“Do you need a place to stay?” Ava asks me quietly, but I notice the way Rhett’s hands still out of the corner of my eye.
Shit.He definitely heard that.
“I’ll be fine,” I say back, allowing myself one last sniffle. “We’ll work through it.”
“Wren—”
“No!” I hiss. “I’m not doing to him what he did to me. I’m not that type of person.”
With a sigh, Ava backs off. “Sometimes, I think it’s to your detriment.”
Chapter six
Oliver
Wren is upset.
It’s the first thing I notice when Ell and I make it back from the restroom. Her eyes are all bloodshot and puffy like she’s been crying, and her face is tilted down, like she’s too tired to hold her head up high.
The urge to find whoever hurt her and beat them to a bloody pulp takes me by surprise. I barely know her, but this doesn’t sit right with me.
Her coworker—Ava, her name tag says—offers to take the register when Ell and I approach the counter, but Wren shakes her head. Rhett is stiffer than he was when we walked in. Normally I’d blame it on the noise, but it’s quieter in here than usual.
Maybe he overheard something.
As Wren moves to the register, she squares her shoulders and tilts her chin up, yet her smile is dulled and fleeting. “Hey. Cappuccino again?”
“Yes, please,” I say, keeping my voice gentle. “But I was thinking a different flavor this time.”
“What would you like?”
I smile, trying to hold the sympathy from my expression. I’m pretty sure she thinks she’s holding it together perfectly. “How about whatever your favorite is?”
The corners of her mouth tip up ever so slightly. It’s not much, but I’ll take it. “Sure thing.”
Rhett hangs back, his body still tense, and Elliot orders for him. The moment we’ve paid, Rhett moves to the table we sat at last week.
“How was the movie you saw?” I ask, leaning against the counter as Wren starts preparing our drinks.
“Um…” Her voice wavers, and she clears her throat. “It was…”
Shit.Panic fills me as Wren blinks rapidly. I thought asking about the movie would be safe—that it would work as something to distract her from whatever is upsetting her.
