Page 49 of When the Storm Breaks
It’s only right I do the same for her.
Chapter 18
Haiyden
Chase left early yesterday morning. I’m “holding it down” while he’s gone.
I don’t know why, but I thought she might show up yesterday. Embarrassingly enough, I got here early. Just in case. I’m still not sure how I feel about it—disappointed, maybe. Or just… concerned.
I can’t stop thinking about her. About Christmas. There’s something off about it. Something I can’t shake.
I’ve been pacing more. Thinking too much. Listening for a text that never comes.
I’m at the bar earlier than I planned. Again. It’s not because I want to be. There’s something about Chase being gone, about the silence in the apartment when no one else is there.
It gets under my skin. Makes me restless.
The bar is quiet this morning, still waking up.
I let myself lose track of time, moving through the prep without thinking—cleaning bottles, cutting fruit, reorganizing shit that doesn’t need it. Anything to keep my handsbusy.
I don’t know why I care so much. We’re not friends. I don’t let myself get close to people like that anymore.
But it’s different with her. I don’t know how. I just know it is.
At lunchtime, I lock the bar and head home. I throw together something quick—just enough to fill the emptiness—and eat it standing over the sink. It’s not like I don’t enjoy being alone. I always have. But today, it feels different. Like something’s missing. Like I’m waiting for something that isn’t coming.
When I’m done, I grab my jacket, eager to escape the silence. My fingers pause on the sleeve longer than they should, but I shake it off and head back to the bar for the first half of the night shift.
For a few hours, I hang back, keeping an eye on Tanner, our newest hire, as he covers while Chase is out of town. The kid’s eager and quick enough, but I’ve seen plenty of rookies burn out when things pick up, so I stick close. He’s trying a little too hard to fit in. Not a bad thing. Just means he doesn’t fully get what the world demands yet.
He’s still got that boyish face, like he barely stepped out of high school, and those ice-blue eyes—intense, but carrying something painful. Something that doesn’t quite match the rest of him.
His hair’s always falling into his face, too much product trying to hold it back but never quite doing the job. I have to bite back a smirk every time I see it. He’s young. For now, he can get away with it. But sooner or later, life has a way of making you outgrow shit like that.
The bar’s filling up. The usual crowd trickles in, the noise builds. Tanner’s holding his own—keeping up with orders, checking tables, keeping things running smoothly enough. I try to give him space, let him do his thing, but something about him keeps me watching. Last thing I need is him fucking up now, especially with how much busierwe’ve been getting every week.
By the time the bar clears out and the last of the regulars are nursing their final drinks, my mood’s shot to hell. Barely two days, and they’re already closing in on me. Calla’s still MIA, and the worry is starting to eat at me.
I don’t like the not knowing. But the complete silence is driving me fucking crazy.
I walk over to Tanner, who’s wiping down the bar for what’s probably the fifth time tonight.
“Hey, Tanner.” I keep my tone even, but the rage that’s building in me is hard to hide.
“Sup, boss?” He looks up, blue eyes bright, but rimmed with exhaustion. He’s still figuring out how to balance charm and competence without overstepping.
“I’m heading out for a bit,” I tell him. “I’ll be back to close. If anything comes up, call me. Got it?”
He nods quickly, still wiping down the counter.
“Yeah, no problem.”
I step in closer, making sure he’s actually listening. “No, I mean it. If anything feels off, if there’s a hint of an issue, you call. Understood?”
His hand stills for half a second before he nods again, slower this time. His brow furrows, like he’s trying to figure out if I’m messing with him.
“Got it. All good here.”
