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“I put in a call to Tex,” Leo says, “but he’s wrapped up in another situation right now. He said he’d get on it as soon as he could. I left a message with Sledge this morning; he’s going to talk to Beth and she’ll get back to me.”
“Hopefully, one of them can come up with something.” After a pause, what I said sinks in, and I want to smack myself. “I’m sorry, Leo. I didn’t mean you weren’t doing anything. It’s just—”
“It’s okay.” He holds my gaze, a rueful smile on his face. “I’m not insulted. Whoever is behind this is an expert. I’m confident that given enough time, I could track them down. But Charlie shouldn’t have to wait. If bringing more people in gets it solved faster, I’m one hundred percent on board with that.”
“And”—his lips twitch—“I know you’re very motivated to get this worked out for Charlie.”
What does that mean? But before I can call Leo on it, he’s headed toward the office, calling back to me, “I’m going to get working on these letters. And I want to touch base with Cole, give him an update on the case.”
“Maybe you should check on Charlie,” he adds, looking back over his shoulder. “Pretty sure the shower turned off a while ago. She might want someone to talk to.”
I only just stop myself from rolling my eyes. What does he think he is, a damn matchmaker?
But that doesn’t stop me from knocking on Charlie’s bedroom door minutes after Leo disappears into the office. Matchmaking attempts or not, I really do want to make sure she’s okay.
When she opens the door and her eyes are only the slightest bit pink, some of the pressure in my chest eases. Her cheeks are flushed from the heat of the shower, her hair a damp, shining curtain down her back, and though her features are still strained, the tiny lines that bracketed her mouth are gone.
“I just wanted to check on you,” I blurt out, rather than hugging her like I really want to. “Are you doing alright? I know that was…”
Charlie steps back from the door and heads to her bed, sitting down and gesturing for me to join her. “It wasn’t great,” she admits, her eyes darkening. “But I wanted to see them. So…” She gives a little shrug. “I have to deal with it.”
“I’m so sorry, Charlie.” Shifting on the bed so I’m facing her, I reach down and cover her hand with mine. “I wish I could fix this for you right now. I wish I could make it all go away.”
“I know.” She turns her hand, her palm to mine. “But you’ve already done a lot, Ry. And I know this is just a job to you, but…” she trails off, swallowing hard. “Maybe it sounds stupid. But… I don’t know if I could get through this without you.”
“It’s not just a job to me.” Her eyes flash with surprise, and I squeeze her hand in emphasis. “Yes, that’s why I came here. But it’s more than a job now. I would be here whether I was assigned to come or not.”
Her voice is soft, tentative. “Really?”
“Yes.” Holding her gaze, I sort through the truths I feel comfortable saying. “You’re my friend, Charlie. And I’m really glad I’m here with you.”
Friends might be true but it still sticks in my throat. Maybe when this is all over… maybe then I can say something more.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHARLIE
I never thought I’d be waiting tables again.
And I never thought I’d be this excited about it.
Not that I minded the job when I was in law school—decent money, good exercise, and I met some interesting people. Plus, I think it should be a requirement for everyone to work in the customer service industry at least once in their life, so they get a real appreciation for how hard it is. Those people who are bad tippers or are rude to servers—I bet they never worked in retail or restaurants.
But once I got my first job out of law school, I kind of figured my days of serving were over. My uniform would change to tailored suits, I’d get a salary instead of tips, and I’d have a regular schedule instead of working all nights and weekends.
That was before some anonymous person decided to tank my life.
And now I’m starting a new job today—the day shift waiting tables at an Italian restaurant—and I’m cautiously optimistic. I got hired, so that was the first hurdle to overcome. When I went in yesterday to pick up my uniform, no one was outright rude to me. So that’s another positive.
Whether the patrons will recognize me or make insulting comments, that’s another story. But the manager seemed unconcerned, as he told me during my interview, “Charlie, as long as you do the job well, don’t dump food on the customers; that’s all that matters.”
It’s been a while since I held a tray full of food, but I never dropped anything on anyone before, and I don’t plan on starting now.
I take one last look at myself in the mirror, checking out my new uniform—slim black pants, a red V-neck shirt, black vest, and short red apron tied in the front. Even though it’s a uniform, the red complements my coloring, everything fits well, and I think I look pretty good in it.
As I head out to the living room, my phone buzzes with a text. It’s Erin, which isn’t a surprise since she’s basically the only person I talk to other than Rylan and Leo, and since they both live here, there’s no need for texting.
Erin has been a bright light in all of this, texting me daily just to say hi or to share a funny story or meme with me. We always stayed in touch, but since all this crap went down, our relationship has gotten a lot stronger. Which goes to show that adversity really does show you who your true friends are.
