Page 38 of Silent Heart

“Here,” Grandpa said gruffly.

“Hi to you too,” I breathed.

He grunted but pushed the zippered cooler at me. “You didn’t take lunch, Marta said.”

I paused. It wasn’t an apology. Rodger Kellnhofer never apologized for getting drunk and stupid. But itwasa peace offering.

“Come on, Har, you need to eat something before you work all night.” Grandpa took a sip of his Coke, which by the looks of it didn’t have rum in it.

While the wounded part of my soul wanted to throw the food back at him, the fact that he’d driven the speedboat over here just to make sure I ate before my second job said more than any words he could muster.

“Thanks,” I breathed, digging ravenously into the container. Roast beef—from a roast, not the deli—on rye.

Angelica sailed over, eyes wide. “That looks tasty.”

“No kraut, which is a sin. The Mrs. said it would be soggy,” my grandfather grumbled. “Don’t know who’s going to take care of you when you run off to school.”

I passed half to the bartender who wolfed it down before taking a big bite out of mine.

“I’ll be fine,” I promised.

My grandfather grunted. “Education is one thing, but Chicago? There are drug cartels there. Car jackers. You can’t conceal and carry on campus, either!”

His concerns were valid. And there wasn’t much I could say to reassure him except that I would be extra careful. Right now wasn’t the time to go into all of that, though.

“Thank you, Grandpa,” I murmured and pecked his cheek.

He grunted. “Thank your Gran, it was her idea.”

But you wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t want to.With a half sandwich in my stomach and a temporary truce with the man who raised me, I was ready to face the evening.

Chapter 16 – Kolya

Ifelt it the moment I stepped into the Landing. Under the boisterous fever induced by the alcohol and food, was a rapid pulse. Panic. It was written in the tight lines of every staff member. The hostess’s forced smile said it all as she slid behind the podium with a sanitizer bottle and cloth.

“We’re slammed tonight, and we had some employees call in sick,” she informed me. “So, I can seat you, but you’ll have to be patient with us.”

I gave her a tight nod.

She didn’t ask, knowing by now where I preferred to sit. The two-top I’d staked my claim on was the only table open in Harley’s section. But as I watched my frantic little water sprite burst out of the kitchen, carrying an oversized tray to a large table a few feet away, I realized Harley was covering both areas.

There were still dishes on my table, which the hostess gathered and took to the second set of swinging doors.

I frowned at the table a few feet over that was in a similar state. No one cleared it yet. And there was a group of six men at the door. I was on my feet before thinking my actions through.Gathering the trays, refuse, and cups, I carried them to where the hostess gaped in the doorway.

“Wipe that table down,” I clipped out.

The kid—because she was probably still in high school—snapped straight and hurried to obey.

No sooner did I dump the dishes, pausing only to run my hands under the sink at the dish pit, than I was back in the bowels of the restaurant.

“What are you doing?” Harley blinked up at me.

My fingers itched to reach out and brush across her cheek. I wanted nothing more than to touch her, to pull her into my frame, and promise that I had her.

But…she deserved more than a black soul like me.

No, I could serve her, worship her, and adore her from afar, but I needed to keep my distance. What happened this morning couldn’t happen again.

---