Page 17 of Make My Heart Malt

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.” Her gaze flits from me to Garrett.

“Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.” As she strolls to her car, I turn around and beeline it back toward Porter’s.

Garrett’s footsteps are hot on my heels. “Talk to me.”

“I’m not doing this. I’m tired. I just want to find my phone and go home.” My body jerks as I spin around, slamming into his hard chest. Citrus and amber invade my nostrils. My kryptonite. As teenagers I would always borrow—or steal—his sweatshirts because I was always cold. I had a habit of lifting the collar and inhaling the comforting scent. Then I’m reminded of the painful memory of him leaving and suddenly, it’s not so comforting. As I rest my palms on his chest, his warmth radiates to my hands. Tingles bottle rocket through my body until I’m reminded why I hate him. I shove him away. “Why are you so close?”

His balance falters as he takes a step back, giving me a few inches of space. “Fine, if you don’t want to talk, I’m going to talk, and you’ll listen.”

“I don’t want to do that either.” I shove the key into the lock and turn. With a hard push, I’m through the door, but before I can close it behind me, Garrett slides through the opening. I roll my eyes. With a twist of the lock, the deadbolt slides into place, and I stomp across the bar.

“Will you stop so I can talk to you?”

“I don’t need to stop. I’m fully capable of multitasking, so if you have anything to say, you can say it now.” I shrug out of my coat and set it on the bar, along with my walletbefore stomping down the hallway. When I reach Jake’s office, I punch in the code to prevent the alarm from going off.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” His voice trails behind me.

I continue to storm down the hallway and into the employee break room. Once inside, I flip on the light switch. Harsh fluorescent lights illuminate the room. “So, what was it supposed to be like?” I yank open the small metal locker and rifle through a stack of papers and shove a bag of granola to the opposite side. Shit. No phone.

“I don’t know, but not this.”

The sound of metal slamming shut echoes through the room as I spin around. Garrett’s leaning against a table, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Really? Is that all you have to say? You want to talk to me and all you have to say is, ‘It wasn’t supposed to be like this.’ That’s your whole five-minute speech? Guess what, Garrett? It is like this.” I shoulder past him, turning off the light, shrouding him in the darkness. Once in the hallway, I head toward the bar again.

From behind me, I hear Garrett’s voice, strained and full of tension. “I was going through a lot, and I needed to get away.”

“Congratulations, you certainly got away. For ten years.” My steps quicken as I enter behind the bar. I prowl the length as I peer underneath where the glasses are kept.

“I’m sorry about that.”

I stop in my tracks and whip around to face him, my nostrils flaring. “Is that all you’re sorry about?”

“What else do you want me to say?” He throws his hands in the air.

I huff out a humorless laugh. “Clearly, you’re not sorry. Not at all.” I glide past him again. He turns to follow medown the hallway. Swiftly, I veer right into the storage room and turn on the light. In front of me are three walls covered with shelves filled with bottles of liquor and other various supplies. I start on one side of the room and scan each shelf, hoping to find my phone. Out of nowhere, a hard thump echoes across the cement, followed by gritty scraping.

“Shit,” Garrett mutters.

A second later, something smacks against my shoe. I glance down and a piece of wood is resting next to my foot. My heart pounds in my chest, its rapid beats echoing in my ears as panic sets in. It’s not just any piece of wood, but the one keeping the door propped open. As soon as I glance up, the supply room door is halfway closed.

“Look, I’m here now trying to make amends?—”

“Nooo!” I screech.

NINE

THE LADYGASM

Dessa

I lunge past Garrett, shoving him out of the way, and toward the door. My fingertips brush against the doorknob as it clicks shut. “No! No! No! Dammit!” I grip the cold doorknob and jiggle and tug, but it doesn’t open. “Why’d you do that?!”

“W-what did I do?” His voice is frantic as he scans the room.

I continue yanking on the doorknob. “You kicked the piece of wood from under the door!”

His head swivels from side to side, searching for the piece of wood. “I didn’t mean to. Perhaps someone shouldn’t keep a piece of wood on the floor.”

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