Page 49 of Dark

“Right now distance is the best way to keep her safe.”

“So why do I hate myself?”

He frowned. “You say stuff like that, and I don’t know how to take it. If you’re just blowing off steam, I get it, but—"

“Sorry. I’m okay. I promise. This just… sucks.”

He pulled me into his chest. I slipped my arms around his middle, letting him draw me in for a brief, tight hug. Ellie was back east with my aunts touring medical schools. My phone buzzed around the clock with disapproving texts, creepy messages from my stalker, and radio silence from my sister. I was being hunted, and it felt like every move we made, the person hunting me stayed one step ahead.

“We have to get back out there.” I tugged at Ethan’s apron strings, leaning up on my toes to kiss that spot just behind his ear that made him shivery.

“Not yet.”

His fingers slipped beneath the hem of my Killers tee, stroking the bare skin at my waist. I felt my back hit the storage shelves, one of his knees parting mine.

Ethan and I were together, seeing each other even if the relationship wasn’t yet entirely defined. Things were finally working. Which was why I told myself it was nothing, as we straightened our clothes a few minutes later in the dim light provided by my phone, when I caught a tremor in his hands.

I emerged from the employee bathroom, scarf looped around my neck, and stopped short. West was leaning against the front counter, messenger bag slung over one shoulder. He dropped a brown paper sack on the counter between us.

I folded my arms. “For real? Doughnuts are so not going to work.”

“They’re chocolate.”

Okay, so they might.

“Leave me out of your boy band drama. If you want to talk to him—”

“Little hard to do that when he’s barely responding to any of our texts. Cal’s worried.”

I channeled my resting bitch face. Chuckling, West opened the paper sack. Reader, I blame what happened next entirely on Violet. And that fat chocolate-glazed sucking her in like half-priced boots at a Black Friday sale.

I threw a furtive glance over one shoulder. “Look, I’m not getting in the middle of this. After what happened Sunday—”

“He and Dallas have always had their issues. This is different.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

West abruptly straightened, backing out the door. I whirled to see Ethan leaning against the wall.

“We were just—”

“Uh huh. You? Not so much with the espionage.”

Flipping him off, I spun back to the machines and focused on my rage pours. Death cappuccinos. Bitter espressos. Lattes that looked like Violet mauled them. It was so brutal one little girl, no joke, asked if her pumpkin spice latte was supposed to be a Zombie Pumpkin.

“Scary,” Ethan murmured in my ear, pocketing his phone.

“Um, death wish?” Grabbing the whip, I held it out in front of me like a taser. “You are so not posting that.”

“Pretty sure we’ve got something in the employee manual about terroristic threats on the clock.”

“Call it in, coffee boy, and you can pipe out six dozen Cool Whip ghosts by yourself tonight after close.”

“Savage.”

I scowled. A second later, my phone buzzed.

Darth Roast: Adding to the menu. #ZombiePumpkin