Page 45 of Kylo
It was the one reason I was relatively sure it wasn’t depression I was dealing with. Not yet anyway. Because when I was in a depression, I could barely force myself out of bed. Right now, I could barely sleep. I would just lay there, staring at the ceiling, overthinking.
That said, once this delivery was over with, I would hopefully be able to level out again. At least for the next couple of weeks.
Then it would start all over again. Unless the new medicine worked a miracle.
I watched Traeger get into his car and back out of the lot.
Then I chugged the rest of the coffee so I felt alive enough to finish cleaning up the store for the day.
Then I saw the headlights.
Dread seized my stomach and weighted my legs.
I was pinned to the spot, unable to move, to think, to do anything but feel my heart gallop in my chest.
Maybe if I stayed inside, they would leave me alone.
I used to care about the plants that came in, not wanting them to be manhandled, knowing how rare and precious some of them were. I carefully tended to them so the men wouldn’t throw them around or step on them.
But if I just said ‘screw it’ and stayed inside, would they just… handle their business and move on?
They didn’t need me to get their boxes full of contraband. If anything, wasn’t my presence a hindrance? Didn’t they want to conduct their illegal activities without a witness?
I flipped back through my previous interactions with these men, trying to remember if they’d ever said something about me needing to meet the delivery truck.
I couldn’t think of anything.
Besides, I couldn’t move anyway.
So I stayed behind the counter, heart hammering, icy sweat sliding down my spine.
I watched the truck pull in.
Then two SUVs.
And, finally, the fancy sports car that belonged to the leader of this little crew.
I watched him climb out, his head swiveling around.
His name was Marco, and he was maybe five-ten with short-cropped black hair, a somewhat forgettable oval face, dark eyes, and a fit build. He wasn’t bulky, but fit. When he lifted a hand to wave at someone, I could see his biceps stretch the material of his tight black tee.
His mouth opened, speaking to someone, and I saw the way his brows scrunched before he moved out of my line of sight.
I gulped in a breath and started to count, hoping it might be meditative. I even let my eyes slide shut.
“The fuck you think you’re doing?” a voice barked, making my heart lurch and my body jolt.
My eyes flew open, and there he was.
Marco.
Swaggering toward me, his jaw tight.
“What?” I asked, voice raspy, my mouth bone dry.
“The fuck you doing in here? Get your ass out to the truck.”
“I, uh, they can just throw the plants out,” I said.
