Page 97 of The Voices are Back

I’d be damned if he stopped.

“Sure,” I said. “I want the smallest pizza they have. With extra, extra cheese.”

He nodded his head in understanding, then his fingers flew.

My phone dinged on the table beside me, and I reached for it and smiled when I saw the message.

Aodhan—at the losing signal spot. Love you.

My heart all but melted. We hadn’t exactly said “I love you” since we’d reconnected, though we both felt it, and showed it.

Me: Love you, too.

Sadly, it went green, indicating that he was most definitely out of cell range.

That had to be the worst part about him taking these trips out to nowhere. The not being able to get a hold of him thing.

If there was ever an emergency, it’d have to wait until he got back for him to know anything was wrong.

“Ordered,” Bowie said as he sat back. “I saw they started putting up new drywall in your store today.”

Etienne had pushed my shop to the front of the line—a perk that Matilda said was being part of Gator Bait MC—and within a few days, I would have walls, and could start working on the counters.

Everything in the back had survived, so it was my guess that I’d have the shop up and running within a few weeks. Which actually kind of bummed me out. The whole having downtime thing was excellent.

“Why do you look so bummed?” he asked curiously, leaning back on the couch, crossing his arms across his chest, and leveling me with a curious stare that reminded me so much of his father it hurt.

Eyes that I trusted because of who they came from.

“I’m not sure that working is for me,” I admitted. “I didn’t realize just how tired I was. The thought of going back to work really sucks. This last week of sleeping in and doing nothing has been so nice. Not having to worry about getting milk for the lattes, or oh, shit, the credit card machine is down, or whoops, well there goes a leak in the men’s bathroom…that is so nice.”

“What about hiring someone else to run it so all you really have to do is collect a paycheck?” he wondered.

I thought about that.

“Well,” I paused. “The reason that wouldn’t exactly work is pretty simple. The coffee shop doesn’t make enough money to pay me and a manager to run it. I barely make enough to pull in a full paycheck as it is.”

He tapped his chin with his index finger, a move so much like his father that it startled me.

“If it’s not netting you a good profit, then it sounds like it’s not the best investment. If you’re not having fun with this particular endeavor, then it sounds like you should cut your losses and move on to something that’ll give you what you want.” He shrugged. “Dad always says that there are too many variables in life. To control what you can.”

I smiled. “If I quit, then I won’t have any money to live off of.” I paused and corrected myself. “Well, I have the apartment building. That nets me a profit. And it’s passive income. But even that comes with struggles.”

We talked like that for a full forty-five minutes as we waited for the pizza to arrive. Then it finally did, and we devoured it. Me a small pizza, and him a large.

I shook my head when we were finally through, two episodes ofChipsdown, and said, “I can’t believe you just ate an entire large pizza.”

He pointed at the soccer ball that was on the ground by the door. “I’m a growing boy that works out a lot. I actually had soccer practice right before I came over. It’s like my stomach is a bottomless pit.”

Giggling, I checked my phone, then sighed.

Folsom had texted again.

Folsom: You can’t ignore this. Your dad is a dick. I can’t believe you won’t let me do anything.

I rolled my eyes and typed out a quick text.

Morrigan: You can’t do anything because that’s illegal. Plus, there’s nothing to find. He never steps out of the Stone Age. Trust me when I say, he’s not going to have anything for you to mess with.

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