Page 94 of Scrape the Barrel
“Sage?”
My heart jumped into my throat as Gemma came out from the back, the door swinging behind her.
“Gemma. What are you doing here?” My hand dropped from where it had flown up to my chest at the scare.
“I wanted to help out,” she said hesitantly.
I glanced around the dining area, noting that each table was shining, every chair pushed in perfectly.
“You’re not scheduled until the afternoon.” I came forward, stopping at the edge of the counter.
“I know. I just… I wanted to talk before you left.”
“Hours before?” This wasn’t the typical Gemma I’d come to know. She was usually snappy and had no filter whatsoever.
She responded with a nod and stepped aside so I could get past her into the back. I set my wallet and phone in my locker, then got to work gettingthe ingredients I needed out from the fridge.
Gemma took a few baking sheets out of the bottom cabinet, setting them on the table behind me.
Setting the eggs on the counter, I closed the fridge to face her. “What did you want to talk about?”
She swallowed, wringing her hands together. “I don’t hate you.”
My brows pulled together.
“If you thought I did. I just wanted you to know that I don’t,” she clarified.
“I don’t think that you hate me.” I wasn’t sure where she was trying to go with this. And why now? Why bring it all up today? “Gemma, is everything okay?”
Her eyes fell to the ground, and I gave her all the time she needed to conjure up her response. I knew as well as anyone that people could have pain hidden far beneath the surface, and to voice it was to dig up bones that we’d rather stay buried.
“Four years ago, I lost the two people in this world who meant the most to me. A drunk driver took them from me.” She paused, her eyes blinking away the tears she tried to hold at bay. “I’ll never get what you have, Sage.” She finally looked at me, quickly glancing to my stomach before darting back to my face, and I saw it all.
The pain. The reason for her lashing out at me.
“I’m so sorry.” But sorry couldn’t erase that pain from her past. It wouldn’t make anyof it better.
“It’s alright,” she said, sniffling as she wiped a finger under her eyes. “Four years is a long time to cope. I’ve come to terms with what happened that night. But when you first moved here, shortly after I did, and you’d bring Avery into the cafe sometimes, seeing your little girl made me envious for all the wrong reasons. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know,” I admitted quietly. Trauma messed with the human brain. It’d find reasons to excuse what happened; pin your anger on others who weren’t even involved. “It’s not our fault, Gemma.”
She nodded, but I could tell she’d been trying to convince herself of that for a long time. I crossed the room, pulling her into a hug.
“It’s not our fault,” I repeated.
I’d say it a million times over again if I needed to. To engrain it in our brains that the reason we were dealt the hands we got was not because of us.
It wasn’t my fault Jason would hit me when he was angry, and it wasn’t Gemma’s fault that that person decided to drive inebriated.
We were strong enough to get through this.
Gemma pulled back, dropping her arms. “It wasn’t your fault either, Sage. Whatever pain you hold, it wasn’t inflicted because of you.”
My lips pressed together as I nodded. “It wasn’t. Iknow that now.”
She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. “Why don’t you go open the store while I get the ovens going?”
“You don’t want to head home before your shift?”
