AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He turns his back to me and heads off down the street, taking the warmth of his presence right along with him, and a sudden chill sweeps over my body as I watch him walk away.
Maybe one day, I will think back to this moment and kick myself for not taking him up on his offer. But sometimes, we have to follow where our heart is taking us, regardless of the risks involved. And even though it’s leading me toward someone I’m not sure I can even have, it’s still a risk I’m willing to take.
CHAPTER8
MACKENZIE
This has to be the longest day on record. In fact, this entire week feels like it’s been a whole month, as each day seems to become longer and more miserable than the next.
If I thought the icy reception I’d received from Owen the day after I’d thrown those hateful words in his face was bad, it’s nothing compared to the arctic cold shoulder he has given me since Noah came into the diner.
Since then, he’s barely acknowledged my existence, only talking to me if he absolutely has to, and the vibrant sparkle that once shined in his green eyes has turned dull like the fading of the green leaves in the fall.
I heard a saying once that ‘You don’t know what you have until it’s gone. But the truth is you knew what you had. You just never thought you would lose it.’
Those words resonate with me in ways that I’d never thought possible. The playful games and banter were something that I’d grown so accustomed to that I’d never imagined what my life would be like without it.
I’d never pictured what it would be like to go through each day without him doing something ridiculous to rile me up or the thrill I would get from conspiring new ways to get back at him. And never in my wildest dreams did I think I would feel such a profound loss in the absence of what we once were.
I miss him.
I miss us.
Even if our games were childish and bordering along the lines of dysfunctional. It was ours.
I’ve wanted to talk to him so many times and tell him how sorry I am and that my words didn’t hold a semblance of truth. But lack of opportunity and cowardice has kept my tongue tied in a firm knot.
We’ve been working different shifts this week. I’ve been working the mornings, and he’s been working the evenings.And as more time passes, the void between us seems to be expanding and creating a distance that’s so vast that it’s starting to feel like we’re on entirely different planets.
A noise from the kitchen draws my attention to the serving window, spotting Owen going about his usual routine of closing the kitchen for the night.
This is the first time we’ve been alone together since everything went down, and while part of me would love to take this opportunity to clear the air, his steely disposition and surly attitude has made him about as approachable as a grizzly just woken up from winter hibernation.
Turning my attention back to the last table, I wipe it down and push the chairs against it before making my way over to the counter.
Running through my checklist to ensure everything is stocked up for the morning, I notice we need more coffee to refill the machines, and the realization that I have to go to the storeroom to get more has nerves wreaking havoc on my insides.
Wiping the beads of sweat off my brow, I head over to the kitchen doors and push through. Owen throws a cursory glance over his shoulder before returning his attention back to cleaning, and the blatant dismissal feels like a dagger driving through my heart.
Opening the storage door, I slide the stopper in place, then head straight to the shelves at the back and stand on my tiptoes to pull down a bag of coffee from the top shelf.
A loud bang erupts from behind me, and I whip around to see Owen walking toward the bags of flour propped up against the wall. But when my eyes shift to the storage room door, I suck in a sharp breath. “What have you done?”
His stone-cold eyes meet mine as he hoists a large bag of flour onto his shoulder. “Stocking up the flour canisters,” he responds bluntly.
“No, not that. The door.” I point toward it, and he glances at it for a moment before looking back at me, realization making his eyes go wide.
Marching over, I turn the door handle which lets out a chorus of jingles as the loose bolts rattle around inside. “Shit,” I breathe, taking a step back and internally cursing my father and his procrastination. This is a goddamn occupational safety hazard.
“Here, let me try,” Owen says, plonking the sack of flour down on the floor, and I move aside to let him through. He twists the handle while using his body weight as leverage to try and push the door open, but after several failed attempts, he takes a step back and heaves a weary sigh. “Do you have your phone?”
“No, I left it in my bag, do you?”
He pats his hands over his chef’s blazer and pants pockets, then lets out an audible groan. “Fuck. I left it out there.”
“God, we’re stuck in here,” I cry, feeling panic bubble up my chest.
With everyone else gone home for the night and having no way of contacting anyone, it means only one thing.
