Page 55 of The Tattered Gloves
It didn’t make sense to me at all.
“What does your dad get out of the deal?” I asked, trying to figure out why one of the richest men in town would bother listening to his teenage son when it came to managing a business.
“It doesn’t matter. We both got what we wanted.”
I wasn’t exactly sure that was the truth, but I could tell he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
He let out a sigh as his emerald-green eyes met mine. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry if I scare you, Willow. That wasn’t my intention at all. I just thought this might be a safe place for you, but if it’s not, I understand. You don’t have to stay. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
It was the third time today that he’d called me by my actual name.
Willow.
It sounded so beautiful on his lips that I was actually beginning to fall in love with my own name.
“I’m not scared of you,” I finally said.
His eyes widened slightly with shock. “But you said—”
“I was angry with you,” I admitted. “And you did scare me today, but that doesn’t mean I’m scared of you,” I explained. “Lots of things scare me. I’m not a very brave person.”
“Sure you are,” he countered. “I’ve seen you do a lot of brave things since I met you.”
I gave him a look a doubt, arching an eyebrow in his direction.
“You stood up to me in the hallway at the beginning of the year; that took balls. And you work with me every day; that can’t be easy.” He grinned.
I couldn’t resist his charm, and I found myself smiling back at him.
“It is rather tedious.” I laughed.
“Funny,” he remarked. “Now, come help me stock the new releases before tomorrow.”
I followed him to the back room where a couple of boxes were waiting for us.
For the rest of the day, we worked in synchronized harmony, side by side. I stocked while he unpacked, and as customers came in, I’d stop to help them out while he took time to jot things down in his mysterious notebook.
One of these days, I’d gather up the courage to ask him about it.
But not today, I thought to myself as I heard Sam happily humming to himself in the back, remembering the sound of my name as he spoke it.
No, definitely not today.
“IT’S ALL OVER the school,” Allison informed me the next day as we sat alone in a hallway, enjoying lunch.
Every so often, my bubbly social butterfly of a friend would indulge my introverted tendencies and allow us to go off and eat by ourselves.
Honestly, I thought she enjoyed it. Compared to the deafening noise that always resonated in the cafeteria, sitting here in the quiet, empty hallway was almost peaceful. Minus the random student or teacher who would stroll past every few minutes. But, besides that… totally peaceful.
“I wish people would just stop talking about it,” I said, nibbling a piece of my crust from the turkey sandwich I’d made early that morning.
Allison made a sour face. She was an avid crust hater, still insisting all her sandwiches be completely crust-free. Occasionally, I’d notice that her mom had even cut them into little shapes, like hearts and stars.
It was kind of cute — in a vomit-inducing sort of way.
Addy had never sent me star-shaped sandwiches, but every now and then, I’d find a handwritten note in my lunch bag. Nothing mushy. Just a random quote she’d heard on the radio or a funny joke.
It had the same effect as the goofy sandwich though.
