Page 33 of Getting the Grinder
“You don’t have to.”
I ignore her, opening the door to the garage. She sighs heavily, hikes the strap of her bag over her shoulder, and walks out the door.
“I’m okay, really.” She turns to me once I’ve closed the door. “I just don’t want to have to explain why I look like hell. I want to crawl into bed and be alone.”
“You sure?” I cross my arms over my chest, concerned. “I could hang out and watch a show with you. I won’t talk.”
She shakes her head, and my worry grows deeper. I’ve never seen Mara like this. Everything about her expression says she’s defeated.
“It’s just work?” I ask.
“Yeah. I fucked up. I’m sure you’d love to hear all about it.” Her tone is biting, and she cringes as soon as the words are out of her mouth. “I’m sorry. I just want to rage, and that’s why I shouldn’t be around anyone right now.”
Carter’s giant garage is a weird place to be having this conversation. His big SUV and Suki’s smaller one are parked inside the space, but there’s still lots of open room.
“You can rage at me,” I say. “I can take it.”
“Don’t, Leo,” she snaps. “Not right now.”
“Let it out. It’s not good to hold everything in.”
She sneers at me. “Are you my shrink now? I told you to leave me alone, so leave me the fuck alone.”
I’d usually respect that request, but somehow I know if I don’t push her, Mara will go home and marinate in her feelings of failure. Probably because I do it myself. Anxiety and depression can turn a tiny snowball into an avalanche.
“Did you get fired?” I ask her.
“No, I didn’t get fired. I’m just fucking hungry and exhausted and completely fucking—” She looks away, unable to finish. “I can’t do this, Leo.”
I can’t get over how absolutely broken she looks. It’s so unlike her—Mara is usually proud and steely, her resolve never showing so much as a crack.
“You’re human, you know,” I say. “You get to make mistakes.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t get it. My job is a lot different than yours. I’m not playing a game.”
I keep pushing. “Did some kids refuse to drink the potion you brewed? Did they not cry when you cackled at them?”
Her nostrils flare with aggravation. “I’m really not in the mood for your bullshit, Leo.”
“So tell me what happened and we can drop it.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose. “When have you ever dropped anything? You’ll be making fun of my bush at my damn funeral.”
I bark a note of laughter. “Me? You carry a grudge like no one I’ve ever seen.”
Her voice rises as she says, “Fuck you, Leo. Only you would kick me when I’m already down. This is why I can’t stand you.”
Tears shine in her eyes. I should listen to her and leave her alone, but I push her further instead.
“It’s probably not even a big deal. Are you just being melodramatic?”
She bursts open like a dam, her eyes darkening with rage. “Not a big deal? Kiss my entire ass, Leo! I need a woman to testify against her abuser, and I tried to convince her, but she won’t. She’s back with him! He’ll hurt her worse next time. He might even kill her. Because I couldn’t do my job.”
Tears stream down her cheeks, and my heart cracks. She’s usually prickly and defensive, and talk about a hothead, but Mara’s passion runs both ways. When she wants something, she fights for it.
“It’s not your fault,” I say, putting a hand on the side of her shoulder.
She crumbles, burying her face in her hands. “I thought I could do it. I’m so stupid. When I told her”—her voice breaks with a sob— “to think of her baby, she got mad. She wouldn’t even?—”
