Page 16 of Beast of Misty Mountain

“You don’t have to explain anything,” she says. “I’ve got you.”

Sami goes back behind the counter and makes me a latte. “On the house. I’m trying out a new design.”

I take it with both hands. “It’s gorgeous, as always.”

“Thanks! I’ll text you as soon as I confirm with Finn, but I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t agree,” Sami says. “I’ll bring the extra key by The Rusty Elk after I finish my shift here.”

My smile is weak, but right now, I love Sami more than anything in the world.

I leave the café, then sit on the bench outside and take a deep breath. I need to make it through my shift tonight, and then I’ll go from there. One step at a time.

This hurts. But I know I did the right thing.

“Dammit!”I yell before I can filter my reaction. The glass that was in my hand and on its way to the dishwasher slipped through my fingers, hit the floor, and shattered. Now, foam and beer are soaking my shoes and my jeans and there’s broken glass all over the floor. It wasn’t a full pint, but it doesn’t matter. People are now looking at me. I look out at the bar, feeling like a deer in headlights, then quickly start to clean it up.

This is the third screw-up tonight, and we’re barely halfway through the shift.Maybe Hank didn’t notice,I think, mentally crossing my fingers. Memories of last night keep flooding my mind and distracting me, no matter how much I try to focus on work and getting through my shift.

As I’m sweeping up the last shard, I hear Hank’s boots before I see him. “Back hall. Now,” he commands, his voice low and strained.

I stand without meeting his eyes and follow him, quickly rinsing and drying my hands. The hallway behind the kitchen is dim and narrow, lined with cleaning supplies and kegs of beer. He stops halfway down, near the office door, and crosses his arms.

“What’s going on?” His tone isn’t angry yet, but it’s close.

I open my mouth, trying to find a lie that sounds professional—something that’ll excuse the dropped glass, the wrong orders. But nothing comes. The words I do have are messy and raw.

“I’m sorry,” I say instead. “I’m not trying to tank my shift. I moved out of the cabin this morning.”

Hank frowns, caught off guard. “You moved out?”

I nod and press the towel to my fingers, realizing one of them has a shallow cut. “Yeah. I took off this morning. I’m probably staying with Sami through the end of the week.”

He studies me for a second. The irritation fades into anger.

“What did Beast do?” he demands, crossing his arms over his chest. “Did he hurt you? I swear to God if he touched you…”

“It’s not like that,” I say quickly. “He didn’t hurt me.” Not like what Hank’s implying, anyway.

Hank doesn’t speak, so I keep going.

“I thought…I thought there was something between us. I was wrong. End of story.” My voice catches, and I hate how small I feel saying it.

There’s a long pause. I brace myself for a lecture or awkward silence, but Hank lets out a slow breath and shifts his weight.

“You’re not the first person to fall for someone who’s too stupid to know a good woman when they see one.”

The words are dry but not unkind. He rubs his jaw, his voice lower now.

“I won’t ask questions you don’t want to answer. But I’ll say this—Beast is more messed up than he lets on. Always has been. Good heart, but he keeps it buried. That doesn’t make whatever happened okay. But you should know that whatever happened, it was because of him, not you. I’m not excusing him, but I don’t want you thinking you did something wrong. He’s been different since he met you.”

I look down at the towel now twisted tightly in my hands. “I wish I believed that.”

“You don’t have to right now. But you should hear it anyway. The only thing you did was fall for someone who shuts people out.”

He sighs again and glances toward the kitchen.

“You’ve been one of the best workers this place has ever had. You show up, you learn fast, and you’ve handled more drunk idiots with grace than I thought possible. You’ve got people here, Marilee. You don’t have to be alone.”

The knot in my chest loosens a little. I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed someone to say that.

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