Page 56 of Push

Gwen cleared her throat. “I, um…” She paused, her gaze dropping to the glass.

I turned off the burners, moved the pot off the heat, threw a quick look at Noah—still having the time of his life—and pulled out a stool to sit beside Gwen.

“Yeah?” I urged her gently. “Talk to me.”

Her eyes stayed on the glass. “I got a job.” It came out as a mumble.

“You’re…happy?” She seemed downright miserable. I reached out, my fingers barely touching her knee. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

Gwen shrugged.

“What’s wrong? Bad vibes?” She was good at reading people. I trusted her gut more than my own. “Did something go wrong in the interview?”

“The interview was…” Her laugh was short but light. “Odd. The job sounds interesting enough. No two days will be the same.” She gave me a small smile. “It’s working for, um…” A breath rattled into her. Her fingers clamped the edge of the counter. In went another breath.

“Gwen?” My heart ached. I had no idea why she was on the verge of tears. Was it too soon? “Criminal work?”

She shook her head. “Banking.”

“Basically the same thing.” I laughed.

My father had talked about banking after a few too many drinks. Stocks, investing, and making money—who cared? Most of the rich people I’d grown up around acted like a bunch of self-important douche canoes.

“Gwen, will they treat you right?”

Her chin dipped in a nod. “Yeah.” Another small smile. “I think he will.”

“So, what’s worrying you?”

“Everything.”

A classic Gwen response. “Spill it. I’m listening.” Noah chose that moment to start a new song on his pots. “Well,” I laughed, “as best I can over the maestro over there.”

She sighed, and her shoulders slumped forward. “He wants me to start next Monday.”

“That’s too soon.”

“Itistoo soon.”

“Can you ask for a different start date?”

Gwen shook her head. “My new boss is…” Her eyes slid to the ceiling, and she thought for a moment. “Insistent.”

“Sounds like the dickhead you used to work for.”

She scoffed a laugh. “Not even close.”

“One hundred points in his favor. I already like him.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “Well, if you can’t change the start date, Monday it is, then.”

“No. Not‘Monday it is,’Toby,” she snapped. “You haveno idea.”

Shit.

The stool screeched against the hardwood floor as Gwen pushed back, ready to run, a thousand issues still to solve.

Shit, shit, shit.

I beat her to it. I was already on my feet. “Gwen, you’re right. Idon’thave any idea.” Both my palms were up. I didn’t want her to run. We needed to talk. “You know I’m not good at this stuff. Spell it out for me.”

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