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Shit.
My hands shake as I carry trays and take down orders. There’s an itch between my shoulder blades, as if someone’s watching me, but every time I turn around, I don’t see anyone.
The thought of walking to the bus stop on my own terrifies me. Maybe this once I’ll call a cab to take me home.
And then what? Should I take a cab every day, spend all my money like that? I can’t let fear rule my life.
God, I wish Rafe were here… I itch to call him, ask him to come pick me up, make me feel safe.
Jesus. Calm down, Meg.
I carry the piled-on trays back to the kitchen, wipe my hands on my apron. I don’t need anyone taking care of me. I’m not a kid anymore. I can take care of myself.
Besides, Rafe may be done with me, and God, does the thought hurt. Even in the middle of this mess, in my panic, I can’t stop thinking about him.
In fact, the more I think about him, the more difficult it gets to breathe. A weight is crushing my chest. I rub at it, leaning back on a kitchen counter.
As soon as I’m done here, I’m calling him—to talk. To meet. I need to see him, make sure he’s okay, because that bad, bad feeling is back, twisting my insides. Like a blade it turns and cuts through me until I’m gasping.
Crap. Screw waiting.
I drop everything and head outside to call, the job be damned. If they fire me, then let them do it. Rafe is all that counts, and this weight on my chest, this feeling of wrongness won’t let up until I hear his voice and I know he’s fine.
The head waitress gives me the stink-eye when I pass her by to grab my purse with my cell phone, and mutters something about talking later.
Clenching the cell in my hand, I nod and brush by her, on my way out. I stumble outside, turn my face up to the night sky and take a deep breath of cold, humid air. Then I take my cell out of my pocket.
It starts ringing, and I almost drop it in shock. Jeez.
What a crazy night.
Zane’s name flashes on the screen and I have to swallow twice before I can answer.
“Dammit, Zane,” I mutter. “You scared me.”
“Why?”
“I thought…” I bite my lip. Zane’s a friend, and I need to tell someone about this. “There’s this guy, my mom’s ex-boyfriend. He beat her up, almost killed her, killed the baby, and I…” I choke on a sob. Crap, have to hold myself together. “I reported him to the police and he was put into prison, but today Mom called to tell me he’s out. He’s in Philly, but I’m scared.”
“I understand, girl,” he says quietly. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him if we can.”
“Thanks.” I wipe a hand over my mouth. “When you called I thought something bad had happened to Rafe. Don’t know why. I’m crazy, huh?”
He says nothing, and I moan quietly, backing away until my back meets the brick wall of the building.
“What is it?” My hand is shaking so badly I think I might drop the cell. “I’m freaked out as it is tonight. You’d better start talkin
g.”
“Rafe told you about the fight club, right? He said he did.”
“Yeah, he did. Why?” Oh shit, no… “It’s tonight, isn’t it? He’s going there tonight.”
“Meg, he’s already there,” Zane says, his voice faint over the line. “He’s fighting right now. I just thought you should know.”
God, no. “Are you there with him?”
“A few streets down from the club. Waiting here in case he needs back-up, but—”
