Page 33 of Broken by my Bully
Same bright red hoodie, like he intentionally put a warning sign on himself so people will stay away. And a faded black baseball cap, even though it’s night out.
Shake it off, Haven. People can travel across town to have pie. It’s not illegal.
Just weird.
Looking as creepy as this dude does, though?Thatshould be illegal.
I’m a little unsteady when I put down his coffee cup, but thankfully I don’t spill.
Is it time for my five-minute break yet? Screw it, I’m taking one. I need to pee anyway.
“Here you go. Let me know if there’s anything else.”
“Pie.”
My insides are shivering. “Oh, right. Sorry. We, uh, have, uh, apple.”
“Don’t like apple.” He stares at me like we’re having a blinking contest. But I’m practically fluttering my lashes in panic, so honestly, he can stop. He’s won.
“Key lime?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Okay, uh…” I’ve literally forgotten what other pies we have.
“Got pecan?”
“Yes! Yes we do!”
“Don’t like pecan.”
Oh my God. I can’t take this anymore. How much shit will I get into if I throw his scalding hot coffee in his face?
A belltingsbehind me. “Haven! Order up!”
The guy snaps out of it like he was auditioning and forgot his line. “Forget the pie. I’m not hungry, anyway.”
I spin away from him and grab the plate from the pickup area, moving so quickly that the burger almost stays behind on the warm steel.
As soon as I’ve set the plate down in front of my customer on the other side of the counter, I yell, “Five-minute break!” to whoever the hell is in the vicinity and hurry for the diner’s back door.
I don’t smoke, and I never have more than one drink on the very rare occasion that I drink alcohol, but I wish I had a bottle of vodka and a cigarette right now. Tipping my head up, I stare at the stars twinkling above me as I drink in some soothing night air, my thumb tracing over the bruise on my wrist.
Still can’t get over how Bastian touched me. How it sent a thrill through me that had nothing to do with pain. Or perhaps, everything.
This is all Kai’s fault.
He’s turned me into a fucking wreck.
I can talk myself down as much as I want. He’s a ticking time bomb and I don’t know when he’s going to explode in my face. Or how to defuse him.
My break ends up being ten minutes, because it takes that long for me to convince myself that the guy in the baseball cap who may or may not have followed me here is less scary than being broke.
I haven’t always been a model employee, and disappearing during a shift is asking for trouble.
When I go back inside, the guy in the red hoodie is gone.
Thank fuck.
