We move into the rhythm of breakfast. Dorian joins Maisie, listening to her rant about the unfairness of the weather, while Norah sips her coffee and rubs her back. It’s a cozy, domestic scene, but I feel a distance between Jude and me that hasn’t been there before.
After we eat, I head to my room to get dressed for my shift. I pull on black slacks and a white button-down, wincing slightly as I brush against the burn on my forearm.
I grab my bag and meet Jude at the door. He’s already got his keys in hand.
“I’ll drive you,” he says. “It’s too cold for you to walk, and I need to go into town anyway.”
“Thanks.”
The ride to the restaurant is quiet at first. The snow has turned to sleet, rattling against the windshield. Jude keeps his eyes on the road, his hands gripping the wheel tightly.
“Listen,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence. “About the other night. When I questioned you about the pack.”
I look out the window. “Jude, you don’t have to?—”
“I do,” he cuts me off. “I was out of line. I was projecting my own fears onto you. I know you’re careful. I know you’ve come so far. You’re doing an amazing job with Maisie, and with the shop, and now this new job. I need to learn to trust your judgment. If you say these guys are good people, then I believe you.”
I turn to look at him. His jaw is set, but his eyes are sincere.
“Thank you,” I say softly. “That… that means a lot, Jude.”
“I just want you to be safe,” he says, glancing at me quickly. “But I can’t keep you in bubble wrap forever. You’re an adult. A capable one.”
“I appreciate that.”
He pulls up to the back of Blade & Butter. The drive took longer than usual due to the slushy roads. I can see the lights on in the kitchen.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say, unbuckling my seatbelt.
“Call me if you need a ride home,” he says. “And text me later. Let me know how the day goes.”
“I will.”
I get out and close the door, watching him drive away. I take a deep breath of the cold air and head for the back entrance. But before I even reach for the handle, I hear it.
Shouting.
It’s muffled by the heavy steel door, but the tone is unmistakable. It’s not the playful bickering I’m used to hearing between Fallon and Eli, or Knox’s usual stern directives.
This is an actual argument. Voices are raised.
I freeze for a second, my hand hovering over the handle. I hesitate.Do I really want to walk into that?I’ve already had enough drama for one week.
But I’m on the clock. I can’t stand out here in the snow.
I unlock the door and step inside. The shouting cuts off instantly.
It’s like pressing the mute button on a TV. The kitchen goes dead silent.
Knox is standing by the stove, his back to me, his shoulders rigid. Eli is at the prep counter, staring down at a cutting board, his glasses in his hand. Fallon is leaning against the island, wiping down the surface with a rag that he’s scrubbing a little too hard.
All three of them freeze when they see me.
“Amber,” Eli says, his voice sounding strained. He shoves his glasses back on his face. “You’re here.”
“Yeah,” I say slowly, looking between them. “Is… everything okay? I heard shouting from outside.”
Knox turns around slowly. “We were discussing the menu.”
