I don’t know her. What the hell is happening to me?
“You know you gotta apologize to that woman today,” Delane says, gracing me with conversation as her audiobook downloads. My hands tremble a bit as I twist the lid back onto my water bottle.
The day I emptied my stomach into a garbage can after making a beautiful woman’s day that much worse was the day I decided to turn it around.
Okay, I may have had a few more drinks in the last week, but in total, I’m turning over a new leaf because Atticus was right. If he thinks I’m an ass, I’m in dangerous territory.
I grunt to acknowledge Delane’s comment because, for some strange reason, apologizing to this woman I don’t even know makes me nervous.
“You told her to calm down.” She snorts, slipping her fully charged Earpod into her ear. “Telling a woman to calm down is so 1950’s; she was right.”
“I know,” I reply through gritted teeth because I do not need to be reminded of the dumb shit I said last week. “Thanks for reminding me.”
Delane pops her gum as she picks the iPad up from the desk, starting her morning tasks before the shop opens. “I like her. She called you out. She didn’t justuh, uh,” Delane mimics a woman stumbling through her words. “But she called your ass out. Good for her.”
“Hey,” I drape a hand across my chest, hurt. “You know I’m not a bad guy. You know that was an off… day.”
“Year,” she says, pulling herself from the login screen on the tablet. “It’s been a bad year. But it’s ending now, right?” Her voice slips gently out of teasing so quickly it takes me by surprise. It doesn’t, however, surprise me that Delane cares. Cold exterior and flippant personality aside, Delane cares about me. Hell, the four of us running this place love each other like family really.
Family.
The word that’s had me fucked up for the last year. Or at leastoneof the words.
“I’m trying,” I admit, though she already knows it. Because I’ve been here on time all week, and I haven’t puked in any garbage cans or puked at all for that matter. “I felt like shit making her upset last week,” I add, more for myself than Delane.
My dad raised me to be many good things. One of the most important qualities he instilled in me is respect for women. He would have hated the way I talked to that woman.
Delane slaps me between my shoulder blades as Atticus and Miller come in the shop door to the lobby, both sipping coffee from paper cups.
“I know. Just get it together now, okay? And apologize to her.” Delane slips her remaining Earpod in before wandering off to the back, iPad clutched to her chest.
Atticus says nothing as he takes over Delane’s seat at the entry desk. Miller, on the other hand, stands so close to me that his elbow grazes mine as he sips his coffee.
“How are you today, Beau?” he asks, his tone so genuine and caring that I feel bad for having to be the fucked up guy in his life. He’s so kind, upbeat and chipper; he really doesn’t deserve to be saddled with a fuck up friend for the last year.
Hell, none of my crew has deserved being the maid to my messes. Those thoughts occurred to me many times when they were helping me out of my clothes or into my bed. Disappointing them added to my struggle. I’d been going through something so confusing and raw–Atticus was the only one I’d told so maybe that’s why he gave me the least grief and guilt of everyone.
But the day I made the beautiful woman upset was the day I realized that I had to stop letting my pain inflict pain on others.
That’s fucking uncool andhewould’ve hated it.
“I’m going to start running,” Miller says after another sip of his coffee. Fuck, it smells good. I haven’t started drinking coffee because I didn’t want to trade one crippling vice for another, but just the smell makes my skin tingle. “Do you want to start running with me?” he asks, knocking my elbow with his.
I take another long pull of my water, a flutter in my stomach as a car turns into the Wrench Kings parking lot. Headlights peer through the fog, making it hard to see inside the cab. But it’s her. It’s absolutely the woman I need to apologize to, because she’s first on the books today.
She’s picking up her car, complete with fixed air conditioning and all.
“Maybe,” I reply to Miller, completely unfocused because all I can think about is the woman and the words I need to say. I’m not an alcoholic and I’m not going through the steps, but with my bender of a year, I owe a lot of apologies and gratitude.
Somehow, apologizing to her feels metaphoric. A new me. Time to figure shit out, pull my ass off the ground and get on with it, pain and confusion or not. I can’t live in emotional turmoil forever. It’s ruining me.
The bell rattles against the glass as she pushes inside. I swear to god, I’m in one of those moments in a movie where time turns to molasses.
Her hair isn’t in that bun thing she had last week. This morning it’s down, wavy and long, sheeting down her back as the door whooshes closed. Whatever delicious curves I noticed through my one open eye last week are completely rewritten as I take her in today. In some sort of black one-piece outfit, her extremely full breasts are smothered by the linen fabric but the shape and size is undeniable. Her waist narrows before blooming into full, grabbable hips, topped off with thick, delicious fucking thighs.
I’m quite literally staring at her as she walks from the door to the counter. Atticus slaps me across the shoulder blades, leaning down to drop a private word of advice to my ear. “Pick up your jaw, then say you’re sorry.”
I elbow him back. “I know,” I hiss like an immature sixteen-year-old taking advice from his older brother. I guess that kind of is our dynamic.