Page 36 of Fighting Jacob

Once she’s thrown on her clothes haphazardly, she yanks a brush through her long locks. I’m tempted to tell her to put in more effort, but then I realize she is who she is, so why am I trying to change her? If Noah doesn’t like her as she stands before him now, he isn’t the man for my little sis.

Emily brushes her teeth, dabs vanilla oil onto her neck and wrists, then sprints out the front door.

“Have fun!” I doubt she heard me. She's running too fast.

When I return to the kitchen, my mom pretends she wasn’t sneaking a peek out the kitchen window. “Should I be worried? He’s been out there since 7 AM.”

I shake my head. “No, he’s a good guy. He’ll treat her right.”

Noah is a friend of Jacob’s, and Jacob is the kindest and gentlest guy I’ve ever met. I trust his judgment, so if he has no issues with Noah dating Emily, then I have no issues either.

“Stop worrying. Emily is a smart cookie.” I band my arms around my mom's shoulders before guiding her to the breakfast bar. "What would you like to eat? My treat."

“You’re buying me breakfast?”

Her shock is expected. Even with working at Mavs the past six weeks, I’m more broke than a two-dime hooker.

“No...but I can make you something.”

She looks more worried now than she did when Emily bolted to Noah’s truck.

After having breakfast with my mom, which consists of burnt toast and watery eggs, I wander into Mavs for my shift. The first person I spot upon entering is Maggie.

“Do you ever leave this place?”

She stops restocking the beer fridge to glance up at me. With a smirk, she shakes her head.

“No rest for the wicked, eh?”

When she shakes her head for the second time, I dash into the back room to store my cell and purse before jogging back out to assist her in replenishing the fridges. We work side by side for over twenty minutes without a word being spoken between us.

As we break down the empty cartons so I can take them to the compactor out back, I let her know that I got my license, so she can schedule me for any shifts she sees fit.

“Good.”

She removes the stack of cardboard from under my arm before ditching them under the counter. I stare at her with my mouth hanging open. If I had done that, she’d kill me for messing up her beloved zone.

“Is everything okay?” The concern in my voice can’t be missed.

Maggie stops cleaning the countertop with her infamous red cloth to face me. Her eyes are thin—nearly as stretched as my patience. I hate tiptoeing around things. If I've pissed you off, just tell me. It always works out easier that way.

“I saw you leave with Flynn last night.” Maggie spreads her hands across her cocked hips. “You were here to meet Jacob but left with Flynn.”

“It wasn’t what it looked like—”

“It wasn’t?” When I shake my head, she asks, “Then what did it look like? You walked out of here wrapped in another man’s arms.” I thought she was a hard ass when she was my supervisor; she’s worse when her protective mother instincts have kicked in. “Just as I was beginning to respect you, you do something stupid. I know what happened to you, and I’m sorry for what you went through, but I will not stand by and watch you destroy Jacob. He deserves more than you're offering him.”

“I agree—”

“Then I suggest you think long and hard about what you want from your life. If you don’t want to be still working here when you're a senior citizen, stop the games and start acting like the adult you are.”

After glaring at me for several uncomfortable seconds, she storms into her office at the back of the bar. I stand frozen, numbed by her outburst. For one, I didn’t think anyone knew what happened between Callum and me; and two, if Maggie knows I went home with Flynn, does that mean Jacob does?

Before I can configure a response, a customer arrives at my side to place an order. He's closely followed by a handful of regulars who spend more time at Mavs than with their families. In between pulling beers and mixing concoctions too potent for the early hour, I barely get a chance to look further into Maggie’s outburst, but I do get a small amount of reprieve.

If Maggie’s history is anything to go by, some of her anger about things in her own life may have been projected onto me instead. It’s easier to blame others when your life doesn’t work out the way you planned.

For the rest of the afternoon, Maggie and I work side by side. She doesn’t speak a word to me until my shift is over. “New schedules are on the noticeboard. There are changes you need to take note of.”

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