Page 34 of Guilty Minds
“It’s full.”
He looks around at the half-empty bar. “Surely there’s a spot for me somewhere…."
“We’re at full capacity.” I move around the counter, stashing my bag away and putting my apron on.
“Kayla,” he murmurs, and I ignore him. “Kayla.”
“I said… we’re full.” I start a new pot for coffee and begin washing cups.
"Can I have a cup of coffee, then?" He plants his palms on the counter, and I hate myself for noticing how huge his hands are. And how clean his nails are, despite working all day with engine oil and whatever else he uses in cars.
“We’re out,” I snap.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, girl. Give the man his coffee.” Garry, an old Irish guy, yells from his usual table by the window. He can be a little scary in a grumpy grandpa way. But I know his weak spot.
“Mind your business, Garry, or your next cup will be decaf,” I yell back at him, and he laughs, throwing his hands up in defense.
"I tried, boy. You're on your own." He returns to his food with a broad smile on his face.
I get a travel paper cup and go to the machine. The little thing just started dripping, and it will take minutes—minutes!—before it’s ready, and then I can be rid of Justin. Hopefully, he'll get tired and leave before that. I'm not built to listen to his insults this early in the morning. Instead, he takes a seat at the bar and watches me silently… and stays there… the whole time the coffee’s dripping. I already washed all the dishes, took two new orders, and the dang thing’sstilldripping. We should have upgraded the coffeemaker like Freya suggested, butno-o-o, Marina’s too proud.
When it’s finally ready, I pour the coffee and drop the cup in front of him. He takes his wallet out and leaves a five on the counter, then he stands up. I expect him to go on with his day (preferably far away from here), but he hesitates. I can see that he has something to say, but he doesn’t know how to. Usually, insults are easy for him.
“Look, Kayla. I’m—”
“Save it. I don’t want to listen to any more shit from you.” I throw three dollars change on the bar and turn back to the sink.
“That’s not what I’m here for,” he says tentatively.
“Coulda fooled me,” I snort without looking at him.
“Look, I’m sorry.” I hear some shuffling and turn around. He’s raking his already messy hair with his hand and fidgeting with tingling keys in his pockets. Worry lines deep between his brows. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s ashamed, but I know better, and shame is an unfamiliar word to Justin. “I was way out of line yesterday.”
"Okay. It's all good. Now, go." I don't mean that; it'snotgood, and it'llneverbe good. I just want him gone.
He flinches. “We’re going to be in the same space because of Alex and Freya. We should probably find some sort of truce.”
There’s no humor in my laughter. “Yeah, don’t worry about that.” Because I’m done with this town, and I’m done with Justin Attleborough. Done with letting people walk all over me.
“Why?” His brows furrow.
“Do you need anything else?” My tone is neutral.
“Why shouldn’t I worry about that?” he presses.
“A truce, as you said," I answer with a fake smile.Just be gone already.
“Are you planning on leaving?” The accusation in his voice audible.
“If I did, isn’t it what you wanted me to do?” I quirk a brow.
He clears his throat. “Yeah—” He coughs again. “I mean, I didn’t mean that. I was just mad.”
“See, Justin. That’s the thing.” I throw a towel on the bar in front of me. “I have no idea why you were mad. Or why you took it out on me. And frankly, I don’t care anymore.”
“You know, Kayla.” He leans closer, his voice dropping to whisper. “Stop playing.”
Our eyes meet, and his are burning with anger. Again. Almost as livid as yesterday. And mine are burning with resentment. Why did I have to poke the bear? He would have been gone by now, leaving me in blissful peace at this early hour.
