Page 19 of Cruelly Fated
The call ended with a softclick.
My phone slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor, screen flashing once before going black. I stared at it, unmoving.
The heat behind my eyes came slow at first, then surged, burning like a thousand unshed tears.
What just happened?
My last dream—shredded before it even had a chance to breathe. And not for somethingIdid…
I slid down the wall, curling into myself as the silence around me grew too oppressive to bear.
I showed up to work without a trace of makeup. Nature’s own red liner rimmed my eyelids, eyes puffy and raw from the crying I couldn’t seem to stop. The call this morning had cracked me open—and the flood never quite dried.
Nothing a few of Mom’s leftover anxiety pills couldn’t numb.
I used to stare at that orange bottle on her nightstand and wonder why she took them. I thought it was a weakness. Now I knew better. Now I understood that sometimes the weight of survival got too heavy to carry without something dulling the edges. The irony almost made me laugh—I thought I’d known my mother.
But grief had a way of peeling back the layers of memory, and lately, I’d started seeing pieces of her I’d never noticed whenshe was alive. Shadows in her smile. Silences too long to be just tiredness. I wasn’t sure which part scared me more—what I hadn’t seen…or what I was starting to.
What else had she hidden from me? Was Grandpa’s addiction the worst of it?
I stood frozen in the back room, sweeping the same corner of the floor over and over like I could scrub the ache out of my chest if I just tried hard enough.
A sharp whistle broke the silence.
“Well, damn. I don’t think that corner had this much attention since the club opened,” Lance’s easy voice rang out behind me, laced with his usual warmth.
But his smile faltered the moment I turned.
“Ah,” he said gently, stepping closer. “One of those days?”
I managed a thin, bitter smile. “You could say that.”
The broom stilled in my hands. I exhaled shakily. “I don’t think I can work out front tonight. I can’t handle people…the crowd, the noise. Would you mind switching shifts? I’ll do the loading, unloading—hell, I’ll scrub every damn keg tap if you want, just—” My voice cracked as the words rushed out too fast, tripping over one another.
“Hey, hey.” Lance’s hand wrapped around my arm, steadying me. His eyes met mine. “You know I’ve got you. I’ll tell everyone you caught some nasty fae-borne cold—one of those rare ones that give you the itch for days. That should keep them away from the back room.”
Some of the pressure in my ribs eased. “Thank you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
He gave a lazy shrug. “You can come to the picnic. Meet my girlfriend. She’s been dying to put a face to the name.”
My lips twitched despite myself. “Are you talking about me behind my back?”
“Always.” He winked, gave a dramatic spin on his heel, and vanished into the hallway.
The silence he left behind felt lighter somehow.
Thanks to his quick thinking, I’d avoid running into Larry tonight—small mercies. Just the thought of my boss sent a ripple of unease. I shivered and shook it off, brushing my palms over my arms like I could strip the anxiety with touch alone.
One creepy problem at a time.
I scanned the cluttered back room, exhaled, and set to work. After tonight, this place would gleam like new—or close enough. I hefted the overstuffed trash bags and hauled them one by one to the rear exit. Some were so bloated and misshapen I had to drag them, the plastic rubbing against the tile with a cringing, high-pitch sound. Once outside, I dumped the darn trash into the wide bin with my remaining strength, dusted my hands off, and leaned against the brick wall.
A breeze cooled the sweat at my temples, but agitation trickled in. A strange energy came from a figure across the parking lot leaning against a luxurious, silver car and thumbing on his cell phone. He wore a crisp dress shirt tucked into tailored slacks, sleeves rolled like a businessman enjoying a break. Hisprofile screamed young, handsome, and entirely out of place. He wasn’t the type who’d frequent an exotic club on this side of Avari.
He twisted his neck, and his gaze met mine across the distance. The air stretched tight between us as we held eye contact for a beat, then he slipped into the driver’s seat and drove off.
I frowned and climbed the two concrete steps to the back door, my heart ticking faster with each tread. That man wasn’t here for the view or the club. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the man was watching me.
