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When I heard their door click shut, I finally met Leo’s searching gaze. “Your father is an awful person,” I whispered.
The corner of his mouth tugged, but it didn’t do much to counter the worry in his expression. “I appreciate you sticking up for me, Mara. I really do. But . . . it’s not worth it. There’s no getting through to either of them. I’ve been trying my whole life, I’m not sure why I thought anything could be different.”
My mind raced with the words that had been spoken before I made myself known, the pressure his parents were putting on him to go back to New York. “You’re not going to go, are you?”
He stroked his thumb along my cheek. My breaths were hollow, but the feel of him close to me like this . . . it was everything. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he murmured softly. “I honestly don’t know what to do.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face into his chest, knowing that ultimately this was his to figure out. I could only continue to remind him of his worth, of what he deserved—but I also knew what it was like to be disconnected from reality after being so used to hearing the opposite.
It took me years before I could fully grasp that I’d been in an abusive relationship. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to have to face such a truth about your own parents.
“I’m here for you,” I said into his sweater. “Okay?”
I felt him smile into my hair. “I know, sweetheart.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Leo ended up staying home tonight with his parents, so I walked to work by myself. I hated the thought of him having to go through an ordeal similar to last night’s, but he insisted he would be okay, and I needed to be at the club tonight. Of course, he made me promise to text him as soon as I made it here safe, which I did. He’d only responded with a treasured thumbs-up emoji, and I hadn’t heard from him since.
I hoped he was okay. I knew it killed him to watch me walk out the door without him. This thing between us had been blooming more and more into a crutch, and as I’d made my way to the elevator, he looked at me like I was his life raft, floating away. But as the elevator doors opened, his mother had called his name from the kitchen, and we were forced to part on somewhat shaky ground.
He’d been more quiet today, a little more lost inside his own head. Beyond just the chaos of last night, the pressure had been mounting all week. I considered asking one of the other bartenders to close for me so that I could stay with him, but when I’d voiced the idea during lunch, Leo promptly shut it down and told me he would be fine. He knew how to handle his parents, he’d said.
But I wasn’t as convinced. It twisted me up to know that he had to suffer through their merciless critiquing. I may not be as open and honest with my parents as I once was, but that was because of my own fears. They’d always been there for me, no matter what.
Seth had been the force to come between us, driving a wedge in our otherwise rock-solid relationship. But I knew that if I picked up the phone right this minute and finally came clean about things, they’d be there for me. They might be disappointed, maybe a little hurt that I’d waited so long, but they would get past it.
The thought made my chest squeeze—I was homesick. I missed the days when phone calls weren’t just a weekly routine, but a near-daily occurrence to share the goings-on in my life. Maybe . . . maybe after this arrangement with Leo was finished and things got back to normal, I could finally find the courage to sit them down.
I always figured it would be easier to let them in once I was firmly on the other side of it all and not still swimming against the current, but as much as I’d accomplished over the last couple years, I still didn’t feel like I had anything tangible to show for it. When Larkspur was mine, I hoped the news would counteract some of the pain I’d inflict when I told my parents everything. And . . . maybe I would also have someone new to introduce them to, to prove that I really was moving on in my personal life, too.
I knew I’d be devastated if Leo left for New York, but I still hadn’t mustered up the courage to tell him I was interested in more beyond this week. It wasn’t fair to hope that he stayed without laying all my cards out on the table—and I wanted Leo to know how I felt. It was all I could think about tonight while I worked.
He thought I was brave, and it inflated me like a balloon. I wanted to prove him right, wanted to lean into the vulnerability shared between us and give him a little more of it.
The thought made my head spin as I finished counting the cash I’d pulled from the registers behind the bar. I was in the office now, an hour-old cup of hazelnut coffee sitting next to me. I knew I shouldn’t finish it, that I’d be up all night if I did. But I hated the thought of dumping it—Leo gifted me this bag. So I quickly chugged the remaining still-delicious coffee before I stood to tuck the cash into the safe.
Larkspur had closed almost an hour ago, yet Frank sat out by the bar like usual, making sure I wasn’t left alone while I closed out for the night. Rocco and his team had been in tonight as well, but they’d left once the doors were closed to the public. I knew they would feel like outsiders for a while, but I appreciated their presence.
My eyes moved to the large monitor hanging from the ceiling in the corner of the office, to the visual reminder of Larkspur’s new twenty-four-hour surveillance system. I really was thankful for Leo’s dedication to our safety here—however frustrating his approach might’ve been at the time. I almost smiled at the thought.
I shut the heavy door to the safe and set it to lock, listening as the inner mechanisms slid into place. Throwing my empty coffee cup into the recycle bin next to the desk, I grabbed my belt bag from where it hung on the back of the chair and left the room, locking the office door behind me.
Frank was leaning against the bar, scrolling on his phone as I poked my head through the swinging doors. I wondered what a man like him looked at on his phone. As far as I knew, he didn’t have any social media accounts. Maybe he read the news, or slinked into Reddit rabbit-holes. Maybe he was talking to a girlfriend—though, I would’ve bet my tips tonight that he was single.
“Hey, Frank,” I called out, watching as he straightened and tucked his phone into his pocket, “you ready?”
“Yeah.” He stomped his combat boots over my way.
“Front doors are locked?” I asked.
“Of course,” he confirmed, pushing through the batwing doors.
I smiled. “Thanks for staying.”
His gaze slid to me as we walked through the stockroom. “I always stay.”
“I know,” I said, “but . . . thank you. I appreciate you.”
