“If the fight doesn’t kill you first,” I say, feeling the weight of the past seven months on my shoulders. “Thank you, Mr. Suppato. I’ll be sure to remember that. Did you need to talk to me about something?” I ask, ready to get to the point, mostly because I’m not emotionally equipped to have a conversation about life’s ups and downs right now.
He gives me a sympathetic nod, evidence that he hears my unspoken words, and stands to tell me goodnight. “It can wait.”
Maybe I wasn’t in trouble after all.
I make it halfway down the hall and realize I never collected my tips. In the forty seconds it takes me to turn around, walk the ten steps back to his office, and peer halfway through the still open door, there’s already someone else in there.
A man dressed in all black is facing Carlos, his back to me and his hands flat on the desk in front of him. He’s huge. How did I miss him? And where in the world did he come from?
“A little head’s up about the barbed wire fence would have been really fucking nice,” the man curses.
“Makenna, why don’t you wait in the dining room? I’ll make sure you receive your tips before you leave,” Carlos says, acknowledging my presence.
I feel like I’ve just walked in on a CIA meeting regarding nuclear weapons and aliens, and I immediately regret the interruption. The new man turns his body slightly to peer over his shoulder at me.
My breath catches. It’s him. I should’ve known by the way my blood felt like an electric pulse the minute I walked in here.
His long sleeve, button-up shirt is torn on the torso, revealing an unsightly gash and unhealthy amount of blood. I am paralyzed from the inside out as I wait for him to turn and face me. A quick glance out of the corner of his eye is all he spares before turning back to Carlos.
“What is she doing here?” he spits.
Why wouldn’t I be here? I work here. He knows that. My preoccupation with his wound keeps me from taking offense to his remark.
“Are you okay? I can take a look at that if you’d like,” I offer, more concerned with his wound than his attitude.
“No. Thanks.” His words are clipped short.
My heart begins frantically pounding inside my chest at the sound of his voice, all strong and foreboding.
An invisible force involuntarily draws me to him as I take a step forward.
“Don’t,” he warns.
“I can help stop the bleeding. I know what I’m doing.”
Kind of. I mean, I’ve never done it on a live human, but I know what to do. Although I probably sound about as confident as I feel.
“I said no, Makenna. Thanks.” He keeps saying thanks, but there’s nothing polite about it. The sharp bite in his tone hits me like the sting of a dozen hornets.
My eyes find Carlos, who has remained silent throughout our exchange. I wait as he nods his head once, silently agreeing with the man in front of him. Maybe I wasn’t just hearing things. Maybe it is his son, after all. Who else would get away with barging in this office and spewing curse words at a man like Carlos Suppato?
“Okay then,” I agree, then I turn to leave the two of them to handle... whatever just happened in there.
“Oh, and Makenna,” Carlos calls out just before I am out the door. I turn on my heel and acknowledge him. “Happy Birthday,” he says with a genuine smile.
I collect my tips from Jaxon, who spends most of our conversation trying to persuade me to go out and have a few birthday drinks with him. Jaxon is a nice guy, and normally I would probably invite him to join me and my friends. But right now, I just want to go home.
My pulse is still erratic, and my nerves unsettled when I finally get to my car. I replay what happened with the guy in Carlos’s office over and over in my head. All I can come up with are questions. Who is he, really? Why is he fighting with barbed wire fences? How does he know my name? And why was he so disgusted with me?
Screw him. This is my day, and I’m not going to waste another minute worrying about some asshole I don’t even know.
When I climb the two flights of stairs to finally reach the door of my apartment, the fresh scent of brightly bloomed tulips dances around me like a gentle, southern breeze. My breezeway is completely saturated with blooms of all colors, dozens after dozens of beautiful bouquets. Twenty of them as a matter of fact. It takes me a solid ten minutes to carry them all inside. Reid.
The flowers almost make up for the fact that I haven’t seen his smile or heard his voice all day. Almost.
The cheeky grin is still plastered on my face when Brynn and Ryleigh show up to take me out.