Page 5

"Sabina!"

Her name tears from my throat, but the two burly men fighting to drag her flailing, struggling form into the van don't even look at me. My yell seemingly prompts them into a surge of strength where they toss her unceremoniously into the back of the van and slam the doors shut.

2

SABINA

Cassian has a date?

Unsurprising. He's a handsome, gentle man with one of the most infectious laughs I've ever come across in my entire life. I should be happy for him.

As happy as I can be for a man who has almost become a staple in the restaurant. He's here every weekend and typically always orders the same thing, then stays late ordering as many drinks as he can from the menu until the kitchen closes.

I thought he liked me.

Wishful thinking born from my own crush that fizzles up the moment he tells me he has a date. Those crushed embers flare with hope when I glimpse him leaving a few hours later without a beautiful woman on his arm, so after I tend to my table, I rush across the restaurant to Corey, who took his bill.

"Did, uh… did Cassian leave?" Hope ignites for a few seconds that he got stood up, but as soon as that thought arrives, guilt follows and I bite into the inside of my cheek.

"Yeah," Corey replies with a yawn. "Date moved to a bar, I think."

"Oh."

I'm a terrible person.

It's not Cassian's fault I never had the guts to ask him out, and here I am almost wishing for his date to fail. Even if I did ask him out, I don't deserve a man like that.

"You good?" Corey's brows come together as he watches me over the top of the menu stack. "You look weird."

"I don't look weird."

"You totally do."

"How weird?"

"I dunno. Like you're about to cry. Just so you know, I don't do well with crying."

"Corey, I'm not going to cry."

"Are you sure? Your face looks like it's going to melt. Was that table mean to you?"

"No," I sigh deeply. "They actually tipped really well. I think they thought they were getting special service being served by the chef."

"Yeah… about that…"

My eyes narrow. "What?"

Corey holds up the thermometer he was hiding behind the menus. "I'm sick."

My heart plummets into my stomach. "You're kidding me."

"Nope. Rules are rules. I'm going home."

"Can't you stay until closing?" I glance down at my watch. "It's an extra forty minutes and a delivery is due in ten. Please?"

"Nope." Corey pops the P with his lips and grabs his rucksack from underneath the bar. "You made the rules, remember? My temp is over the number you set, so I am going home."

"Corey—”