Page 46 of Maddox
Jersey eyes me strangely and with a last glance at Delaney, waving her hands at the little asshole who assaulted her, I move away from the blinds.
My fingers itch to go back over there and finish the lesson but I ease when the fucker storms to his vehicle and drives away.
When Delaney turns in a circle before bowing her head, my skin prickles and I avert my gaze, stepping toward the shelves in the corner.
Instead of seeing the supplies stacked in neat rows thanks to Jersey’s OCD tendencies, Delaney’s wide panicked eyes pass over my vision.
I can’t pinpoint the expression on her face when the pig pulled up but something about that look presses at my chest now.
She’s not my problem but I still have to fight the urge to go back and make sure she’s okay.
However, that fucking pig and the way he looked at me, assuming I was the one in the wrong and not that little pencil dick fuck, keeps me rooted to the spot.
Delaney doesn’t belong in my world and I sure as shit don’t belong in hers.
“C’mon, we got church in thirty,” Jersey says, and I set aside my rage, following him out back to our bikes.
From the corner of the building, I see Delaney standing on the sidewalk and shake my head.
Leave it alone. Just leave it the fuck alone.
“Hey!” Jersey says and when I meet his gaze, his mouth quirks.
“Maybe I should call you Mad Dog from now on.”
Chapter 10
Delaney
The next two nights are long while I work the evening shift and juggle my homework.
I’m still reeling over what happened though. I don’t know how to process the chain of events that brought Maddox racing in while Micah devolved into a version of himself that I didn’t recognize.
Peter showing up when he did, created more tension and I’m hoping he didn’t tell Mom. That would be the icing on the fucked-up cake.
She has reached out a couple of times, but I’ve been ignoring her calls.
As for the blowout with Joey, we’ve successfully been ignoring each other but the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife.
While I still wonder what he meant about saving my ass and if his reference to saints was in direct relation to MC, it doesn’t really matter. I just need to keep my head down and get through this because that’s the only option until something better comes along.
I’m wiping down tables after a particularly brutal rush when, lucky me, Peter enters the diner. With a silent groan, I smile stiffly and ask, “You want a table?”
“Uh, no,” he says. “Just a coffee please.”
Hm. We both know he hates coffee. As long as I’ve known him, he buys energy drinks for the shot of caffeine he needs.
I’m not sure why he’s bothering at all except maybe he’s giving me an excuse to talk to him while on shift. Although I appreciate the gesture, I’m not about to bare my soul over the counter with Jack making food in the back.
After pouring a cup of the coffee that he’s not going to drink in a to-go cup because I don’t want to encourage him to stay, I set it on the counter and mumble, “That’s two-fifty.”
While searching my gaze, he pulls out a few crumpled dollar bills and lays them on the counter.
Reaching for them, I pause when he says, “You know I love you, right?”
Why? Why is he here?
This is not…I don’t…ugh.
