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KATE
Work was fine. Long but nothing bad happened. The monotonous chaos at Butter and Grace suits me. Which is weird when I think about it. But I’m a good waitress. I’m friendly. Personable. Good at taking orders. My memory’s shit, thanks to my medication, but as long as I have my trusty notepad, it isn’t a problem.
Ash picked me up after my shift, and I went home desperate for sleep.
The next morning, I wake up without Blake ordering me to slip on some exercise clothes, and a spark of excitement flows through me at the prospect of having a day off with only one thing on the to-do list: pick up my prescription.
At least, itwasthe only thing on my to-do list until Mia bombarded me at 11:52 in the morning. The girl works as a bartender at SeaBird and rarely wakes earlier than noon. But apparently, she’salsobeen recruited to be my own personal gym buddy and insisted we grab some endorphins before her evening shift tonight.
“I thought you had tonight off?” I question while spreading some mayonnaise on a slice of wheat bread.
Mia’s hair is still askew. Her bright pink sleep mask is shoved on top of her head as she covers her mouth with a yawn.
“Figured I’d take another shift,” she answers.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Sammie wanted a night off with Hawthorne, and since Ash and Blake already made plans with their boys, I didn’t think I’d be missed too much.”
“Uh, I’ll miss you,” I argue, grabbing some sliced turkey and provolone from the fridge. “You’re really going to leave me all alone with the lovebirds?”
She grimaces. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise. You can even swing by SeaBird and hang out with me if you want. First drink’s on me.”
Mia doesn’t know alcohol can be a trigger. None of them do. After the episode a few weeks ago and all of her research, Ash suspects it’s a trigger for me, but I lied and told her it wasn’t. By some miracle, she hasn’t questioned me on it. I don’t want them to feel like they have to walk on eggshells around me. Nor do I want them to feel like they can’t go out drinking or hang out at SeaBird or play Beer Pong at the Taylor house without making me feel left out. And honestly? I don’t regret it. Keeping the truth from them. But it does make invitations like this one a little sticky. Because I’d love to hang out at SeaBird while Mia makes drinks for other customers. And no, I don’t need alcohol to make it happen. I could always sip a Dr. Pepper or something, but I’m not in the mood. Not today.
“I actually have work, too, so you’re off the hook,” I tell her. The lie slips out of me with ease. Well, for now, it’s a lie. My boss is always asking me to pick up extra shifts, so I’ll text her to let her know I’m available. Making a mental note to do exactly that once I have a bit of privacy, I finish making my sandwich, cut it in half, take one side, and push the plate toward Mia.
The girl looks mildly hungover with last night’s makeup still smudged under her eyes, and I have a feeling some food might do her good. Without protesting, Mia takes the second half of the sandwich and bites into it, almost groaning. “Mmm…food.”
“Glad I can be of service.”
She swallows and adds, “Now, go change into some gym clothes. I promised I’d take you before my shift.”
“What am I? The co-owned dog in need of a walk?” I counter. “Do you guys have a schedule or something?”
“Aww, I want a puppy! If I’d known it was an option––”
“Aaaand, I’m gonna go get ready.” I slip around the edge of the granite counter, heading toward the hallway leading to our bedrooms. “I’ll meet you out here in ten?”
She takes another bite of turkey sandwich and mumbles through her mouthful, “Deal.”
* * *
When we reach the gym,Mia heads straight to the treadmill. Her arms pump back and forth while she listens to whatever emo music makes up her playlist. She’s always been this way. More independent. Less in your face. I think we’re kindred spirits in that way. The way we can tell when the other person needs some alone time instead of smothering them with love and attention.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for love and attention. But there’s something about being overstimulated when a lot of people are in the room. It's nice not having to worry about offending Mia when I need space, the same way I know she isn’t afraid to tell me when she needs some alone time.
As for now, however, it means I need to figure out what to do in the weights area without Li’l Miss Blakely here to boss me around.
I stare at the row of free weights in front of me like a lost puppy. My teeth dig into my lower lip while I glance around, avoiding the muscular dudes scattered around me like confetti, then turn back to the free weights.
What to do. What to do.
“Fifteen minutes of lifting, and I can escape to the hot tub,” I remind myself as I pick up a set of ten-pound weights.
Feeling their stares, I glance at a few gym rats to my left but take a deep breath and ignore them. I have just as much of a right to be here as they do.
Don’t I?
