Page 33 of The Truth You Told

“Hey,” the new girl said, startled as she ended up with an armful of Shay.

“Can you cover for me?” Shay asked, already heading toward the back-alley exit. “Just for five minutes.”

Just long enough to settle her nerves. She wasn’t made for this life of hiding crimes, not when she was dating an FBI agent.

“No, it’s Friday night,” Melissa called, panic in her voice. She wasn’t cut out for the bartending life, and Shay doubted she would last more than another few weekends. Lonnie had only hired her, off the books, because Shay had threatened to quit without a little extra help. In typical Lonnie fashion, he’d put in a half-assed attempt to make it look like he cared. Once the girl quit, Shay doubted he would fill the position again. And of course her threat had been empty. She needed the money.

But for now, in theory, Shay had backup, and she was going to take advantage of that fact.

The night air greeted her like a desperately needed slap in the face. Shay gulped in oxygen as she leaned back against the wall. The overhang protected her from the January rain, but her shoes were soaked in under a minute. Normally she loved a good torrential downpour, the water washing away all manner of sins.

Now it made her feel like she was drowning.

The heavy metal door slammed against the wall. Her racing heart stuttered and then revved, and spots popped in her vision.

When she got her breath back, she turned to bitch out Melissa for scaring the shit out of her.

Except that’s not who stood there, haloed by the weak parking lot light in the distance.

“Nathaniel Conrad,” she said, and his lips twitched up. As if she wouldn’t have remembered him—he looked like Brad Pitt in his prime.

“I saw you fly out of there,” he said, grabbing a cigarette pack from his back jeans pocket. “Wanted to make sure you were okay.” He paused, ran a hand through his hair. “Beau would want me to.”

He added that last part like he was feeling self-conscious about the decision to follow her.

She exhaled a shaky laugh and took the cigarette he’d lit for her. “I didn’t even see you come in.”

“It’s busy,” he said, with a careless shrug. “The feds spook you?”

“No.” It came out too quick to be the truth, and they both knew it. She made a face. “So you spotted them, too.”

“They might as well have been wearing neon signs.”

“Right,” Shay said, relaxing enough to laugh. “My mom gets into all kinds of trouble.”

“Makes you nervous around law enforcement,” he guessed.

“Yeah.” It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the truth. It was what she could offer him. “And she’s been calling around a lot lately. Asking for money we don’t have. As if we’re not raising her kid for her.”

Beau hadn’t been clear about how close he and Nathaniel were. Maybe she was sharing too many secrets with someone who was nothing more than a distant coworker. But there was something about the rain and the night and knowing so many people were behind them, locked away by that thick metal door, that had her wanting to confide in him.

And maybe there was something about Nathaniel.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” he said, which was essentially the perfect response. He hadn’t offered to swoop in and save the day; he hadn’t offered pity. Just gentle sympathy.

He flicked his cigarette to the ground despite the fact that it was far from done.

“Trying to quit,” he admitted, staring at the butt for a second before bending to pick it up. He tucked it into his front pocket, a move she found incredibly endearing. “We all have our vices, I guess.”

Shay gestured to her own, determined to savor it, and the nicotine, as long as she could. She rarely smoked, but when she did, she made damn sure the experience was worth it. “There are worse things in the world.”

Something flitted across his face, but it was gone too quickly to tell what emotion it had been. Amusement, maybe. Or a distant cousin to it.

They stood in silence for a few minutes before Nathaniel dug in his pocket once more, reemerging with a set of keys. “I’ve got a full tank of gas and a map to Mexico if you want to flee the feds.”

“Rain check,” she said, and he laughed. The nervous energy had been burned out of her with amazing speed, and she knew who was responsible for that. “Thank you.”

“Hey, it’s a selfish offer. It would have made for a fun story,” he said, deliberately misunderstanding her gratitude. But she knew he knew she was thanking him for more than just an escape plan.

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