Page 162 of Star Claimed Omega
Work helped her forget for a few hours, and on Cybele, that was the closest thing to peace she found.
It also allowed her to indulge in her favorite pastime: baking.
She prepped and glazed pastries, frothed, crafted elaborate cakes, and, in between, dispensed a rotating tedium of beverage orders: cinnamon triple buzz, half-synthcortados, and whatever passed for a caramelchaithis far from Earth.
The early customers were the worst, transiters snarling over missed flights, hungover from in-station bars, or born angry.
Soleil didn’t mind staying on her feet.
Still, every night alone in her cot, she was a messfor him.
She wanted to stop feeling and carrying him inside her chest like a shadow that refused to leave.
However, heartbreak had its own rhythm.
It didn’t fade when she told it to.
It hovered, quiet, patient, cruel, waiting for the next moment she would break all over again.
Soleil washed her hands, tied on her apron, and began prepping cake mix.
She blended and whipped the mixture, losing herself in the process, until she placed the fluffy mix into tins.
She slid them into the ovens, and they rose into delicious golden-brown creations that were becoming a hit with her customers.
She moved to front-of-house as soon as she glazed the cakes, placing them in their displays.
‘You almost missedThe Tabitha’sorder,’ her boss growled, waving a crumpled off-station docket in her face. ‘That’s a standing mid-week delivery. Screw that up again, you’re out.’
Krohn didn’t give afokkhow well she baked, he only gave a damn about getting paid.
Soleil bit the inside of her cheek.
She didn’t flinch or answer back.
She needed the job.
The day devolved from there, as a string of disgruntled customers stepped into the café.
One grabbed hiskahawa, took a sip, theatrically grimaced, and dropped the whole thing into the bin.
‘This sludge should be free,’ the man sneered before stalking off.
She and Lina, the other server on duty, exchanged glances and exasperated huffs.
Krohn caught the exchange.
He turned his ire on her. ‘What kind of brew did you serve him? Did you forget the ratios, or are you sabotaging me?’
The wolf inside her stirred, claws pressing beneath her skin.
With one shift and a thrust of her claws, she could rip out his throat and leave him in ribbons on the counter.
‘I’ll try and do better,’ she breathed.
She lowered her gaze and wiped the station, trembling with contained rage as she brushed coffee grounds into her palm.
The chime rang as a new customer stepped in.
