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“I’m sorry,” the girl cries. “I’m just scared, and the thought of you leaving me is tearing me apart.”
“I’m not going to leave you.”
Lie.
“But you have to stop with all the craziness. I don’t want anyone else. I only want you.”
Lie.
“I’m sorry.” She sniffs as he makes a soothing sound.
“It’s okay. I think in time you’ll learn what kind of man I am. I know you’ve had problems before, but you can’t keep projecting them onto me. It’s unfair to paint me as the bad guy when I’m one of the good ones.”
Lie.
Anger pumps through my system as this asshole gaslights the crying woman into believing everything is her fault. If I thought it wouldn’t bring attention to me, I’d throw my coffee in his face.
“You’re right. I’ll do better. Just don’t give up on me.”
I tune them out, unable to listen any longer without resorting to violence. I sip my coffee and remind myself of all the reasons I’m here.
I might not like Hawk and Creed anymore, and hell, they obviously don’t like me much either, but I refuse to let that stop me from doing the right thing. It’s not about us anymore. It’s so much bigger than that.
The screech of a chair pushing back jolts me out of my thoughts. I see Hawk making his way to the bathroom at the back. Turning to look at Creed, I watch as he scans the place the way he always did, no matter where we were.
I dip my head again. He might not recognize my body hidden under my baggy clothes, but there’s no way he would see my eyes and not know it’s me.
I still remember the day I met him.
I was so focused on saving the ridiculously overpriced coffee I’d just spent thirty minutes in line for that the folder I was carrying in my other hand ended up on the floor with its contents spread out for the world to see. Luckily, it wasn’t anything of importance, just updates on policies and procedures and all the boring stuff that comes with changing jobs. Well, I wasn’t changing jobs per se. It was more like moving up after completing my internship. But from all the nerves swirling around in my stomach, it was kind of the same thing.
The coffee shop is crammed, hence the long line. Surprise, surprise, nobody offers to help me. I resist flipping everyone off, which is unusual for me. I don’t usually have that much restraint. Instead, I focus on bending down in my tight skirt and high heels without breaking my neck, ripping my skirt, or flashing my panties. All of which has happened to me before.
Fun fact about me: I’m a klutz. My mother, who was once a classically trained ballerina, would tell anyone who would listen that I got everything from her but grace. I couldn’t argue with her. I’m tall and lean, which is kinder than saying I have a flat ass and am an active member of the itty-bitty titty committee. I also inherited her long blonde hair and big blue eyes, which are a tad too large for my face, making me look like an anime character.
Grace, though? Yeah, I didn’t get any of that. I trip over air, have zero spatial awareness, and because I like to make things that much harder on myself, I tend to walk around with my nose in a book. I regularly walk into trees, streetlights, people, and, more often than not, traffic. I’ve broken my nose twice, my ankle, leg, wrist, ribs, fingers, and toes, and all that was as an adult. I was ten times worse as a kid. The dreamer in me thought I could fly if I just believed hard enough. It took a barn roof and a week-long stay in the hospital to make me realize there was nothing special about me. Or so I thought.
“Hey, let me help you with that.”
I lift my head and choke on air—another one of my skills—when a man who looks like he stepped out of one of my books graces me with a smile.
“I um…”
“I’m Creed, and you are?”
I stare at him, unsure how to proceed. Most people would say their name, but I’m tempted to tackle him before blurting out my whole life story and my single status.
“You do know who you are, right? You didn’t hit your head or anything?”
“Huh? Oh shit, no, I’m dumb. I mean, I’m Avery. Nice to meet you. And thank you for the help.”
“You’re welcome.”
He hands me some of the scattered papers, his fingers touching mine briefly, and I swear to God, I feel a spark. And what’s that noise? Yep, I think I hear a harp playing in the background. Alright, Cupid, you win. Hit me with the good stuff.
“Stupid Cupid can kiss my ass,” I mumble as the lying asshole at the booth in front of mine makes his way to the bathroom, pulling me out of my walk down memory lane.
Tossing some cash on the table, I wait until I see Creed stand and make his way to the counter. A cell phone rings, but after I realize it’s not mine, I make sure my hood is tugged down, and I stand.
