Page 66 of By Your Side
“I’m sorry, Paige. Damn it.”
“Haven’t you learned by now that apologies mean shit without accountability? You do the same thing over and over. You never change, Eli.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Oh my god!” I let out a frustrated screech. “Get the fuck out of my bar. That’s what I want.”
“Not until we talk this through. Please.”
“Fine. Talk. This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that your businesses are tanking, would it?”
His jaw tightened. “I’m trying, Paige. You think it’s easy keeping everything going?”
“I know exactly how hard it is. I did it for years while you were busy chasing bad ideas and fucking Danielle behind my back.”
Color rose in his face. “That’s not fair.”
I shrugged. “It’s accurate.”
He exhaled sharply, the apology draining out of his voice. “You know what? Forget it. I was trying to make things better.”
“This isn’t about making things better. It’s about control. And I’m not giving you any more of it.”
His mouth flattened. Without another word, he turned and stalked out, the door slamming behind him hard enough to rattle the glasses on the back shelf.
The room felt smaller after he left, the weight of the morning pressing in—Danielle’s fake sweetness, the canceled delivery, Eli’s bullshit apology. It was too much, too fast.
I locked up, deciding the bar could survive without me for a few hours. I just needed to go home and take a breath.
I’d barely made it a mile down the road when the steering wheel jerked in my hands. The car listed to the right, a rhythmic thump-thump-thump filling the air.
Flat tire.
Of course.
I pulled over onto the gravel shoulder, gripping the wheel until my knuckles ached. This day wasn’t just bad; it was starting to feel like someone was stacking the deck against me.
I sat in the driver’s seat for a full minute, forehead resting on the steering wheel, trying to decide whether to scream or cry.
I slid my phone out of my pocket, grabbed my bag, and stepped out into the crisp air. The tire was flat, flat, the kind you couldn’t limp along on even if you tried.
I sent a text to Hunter and climbed back inside the car. Locking the door, wondering if I should just say fuck it all and take a damn nap in the back seat.
Through the silence, I caught the distant rumble of an engine and glanced up. A bright red Cassidy Automotive truck slowed to a stop behind my car, gravel crunching beneath its tires. My shoulders sagged with relief. No matter how bad the day had gotten, things always felt a little more manageable whenever Hunter showed up. I opened my door and stood at the side of my car, waiting.
He hopped out, his work jacket unzipped over a T-shirt, toolbox in one hand. “You okay?”
“Flat tire,” I said, gesturing toward the obvious.
“I got this. Fifteen minutes, okay.”
I huffed out a laugh that felt more like relief than anything. “One day, I’ll ride to your rescue. I swear. You’re going to get a hero complex because of me.”
He grinned, setting the toolbox down and crouching by the tire. “Well, you really do have terrible luck lately. I gotta say. But this—” he trailed off. “The timing of it is—odd. I’m worried about you, Paige.”
“Yeah,” I hesitated to say anything. I didn’t want him to think I was paranoid or to worry too much about me. “I’m starting to think it’s not luck,” I muttered, glancing toward the horizon where the late morning sun was breaking through thin clouds. “It’s starting to feel like—something else.”
Hunter’s hands stilled for a second, his eyes lifting to mine. “Sabotage? I mean—the freezer was weird. Remember the wiring? Do you think someone is messing with you?”
