Page 18 of Shattered Sun
What Idoknow is since I shut him out minutes ago, he hasn’t taken his eyes off my back. Ifeelthe heat of his stare on my skin.Feelthe weight of his silent plea, begging me to turn around and walk closer to him.
Tossing the cloth in the cleaning solution, I fetch a large to-go cup, fill it with coffee, and top it with a lid. Not quite ready to turn around, I set the coffee maker up to brew two fresh pots. Once I’ve exhausted every second of free time, I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and grab the cup.
What I see when I spin to face him throws me off.
The strong, bold, playful Travis that challenges me daily, that makes work more enjoyable, that makes me smile brighter, is nowhere in sight. The man I see now… this is a new side of Travis. Elbows on the counter, he hangs his head in his hands. More than half of his breakfast is untouched. Every other breath, he curls his fingers into his scalp and exhales audibly. Frustration colors his aura a murky red.
A desire to comfort him hits me square in the chest and knocks the air from my lungs.
Then I remember his shitty attitude led us here. If I forgive him so quickly, if I breeze past it as if it were no big deal, it opens the door for him to repeat the behavior.
And I refuse to be spoken to with such disrespect.
I set the cup on the counter in front of his plate. “Want a box for your breakfast?”
Dropping his hands to his lap, he lifts his head but doesn’t make eye contact. “Please,” he says softly. He reaches for his wallet, takes out a few bills, and sets them under his mug. “Thank you.”
I hand him a takeout box and watch as he scrapes the food off his plate into the box. It takes every ounce of my strength to not speak up and offer him some form of solace. Arguing is something I prefer to avoid, but I also won’t lie down and take shit from anyone.
Rising from his spot at the counter, he lifts his chin and meets my waiting gaze. Regret swirls in his honey irises as a ridge forms between his brows. He lifts a hand, rubs his collarbone through his shirt, then reaches for the to-go cup.
“I was an asshole.” His lips flatten as he nods. “Not sure what came over me.” Golden eyes hold my stormy blues. “I’m sorry.”
Reaching for his plate, I clean up his dishes to busy my hands. “Thank you, Travis.”
He raps two fingers on the counter before picking up his leftover breakfast. “Until next time, sunshine.”
All it takes is hearing his nickname for me and I smile. “Later, Officer.”
I stand with his plate in my hand and watch him weave through the tables. A gentleman near the door says something to him and he nods with a smile as he pushes the door open and walks to his car. Frozen in place, my eyes track his every move as he sets his cup and food down, as he starts the car, as he buckles his seat belt.
Then his eyes meet mine through the glass and a hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. I lift a hand and wave. In return, he winks, then backs out and drives off.
“Can you daydream later?” Oliver grumbles under his breath. “Old lady Hensen grabbed my ass as I passed her table.” He fills two glasses with orange juice and a mini teapot with hot water. “I can’t work in these conditions.”
I snort-laugh. “You think she doesn’t grab my ass?” My brows shoot up as I give him a pointed stare. “At eighty-six, that woman gives no fucks what she does anymore.” Another laugh bursts free. “She probablywantsto be arrested in the hopes of a pat down.”
“Ugh.” Oliver shakes head to toe. “I didnotneed that image in my head.”
“You’re welcome,” I tease as I set Travis’s dishes in the wash tub. I wipe down the counter, lay a new placemat and roll of silverware in his spot, then place a mug upside down.
I check on the rest of my tables, refilling drinks, clearing dishes, and settling checks. Then I head toward Ben and his construction crew.
“Y’all doing okay?” I survey the table, seeing more empty plates than not.
“I’ll take the check, darling,” an older gentleman says.
I nod in his direction. “You got it.”
As I reach the kiosk to print the check, I glance back at the table. Eyes locked on me, Ben stares without shame. I hold his gaze for a breath, then drop my eyes to the screen.
“Why do you have to move?”
I pluck a piece of grass and tear it into small bits. “Mom says she can’t live in the house anymore.”
He toys with his shoelace, his knee touching mine as we sit in the backyard under a tall evergreen. “There are other houses in Smoky Creek.” He rolls the plastic at the end of his lace between his fingers. “You don’t have to move away.”
Angry at the idea of leaving my home, my friends, the only place I’ve ever known, I grab a fistful of grass and pull hard. “I told her that too.” I growl and throw the grass. “She says moving to another town makes it easier to start over.” My shoulders sag as I look at my best friend. “I don’t want to start over, Benji.”