I just stood there mutely, feeling like my world was crumbling apart. I couldn’t tell them that being pretty was what made my stepfather hurt me. It made my mother jealous too. That’s why she didn’t believe me when I told her what he was doing.
She resented me more than she loved me. Realizing that was the worst part.
“We’re not going to let anyone end up on the streets, Parker. Even if he is mad. We won’t let you face this alone.”
“Mich, I think maybe we pushed a little too hard.”
I was shaking, trying not to break in front of them. But it was too late. The tears started to fall.
Cassie pointed her finger down the hall.
“Supply closet is the best place for crying.”
I ran that way, practically diving in and slamming the door behind me. Crying the first day on the job was really great, I thought sarcastically. But I was too upset to be embarrassed. I had tried to keep my secret. I wanted to stay with Shane as long as possible. I had failed.
It was over. It was really over.
Shane was going to hate my guts. I’d only been there a couple of weeks, but it didn’t matter. He was my friend. My only friend. And I was about to detonate that.
The sobs that wracked my body had nowhere to go but out. I couldn’t have stopped crying, or even quieted down, if I’d wanted to. I collapsed on a bag of dried beans and wept as if I had nothing left in the world.
Which, in fact, seemed about right.
Cassie was right. I was halfway in love with Shane. More than half. I was terrified he would figure that out, too.
I tried to imagine what he might say or do. It was too awful. I couldn’t face him, not even in my imagination. But it didn’t matter. Once I started crying, I couldn’t stop. All the years of being afraid of my own skin, all the months on the road, it all just caught up to me in that storeroom.
It was a long time before the crying stopped. I tried wiping off my face with my apron. They must have been waiting outside because the door opened a few seconds later.
Two concerned faces stared at me from the doorway.
“Come on, shift is over for today. I’m driving you home,” Michelle said kindly. “You’ll never be a good bar back anyhow.”
Cass nodded.
“We’ll make a good waitress out of you yet, though.”
“I’m not . . . fired?”
“For what? Being a cute girl instead of a cute boy?”
She shook her head.
“We don’t care what you are. We just prefer honesty around here.”
Michelle nudged her side, and Cassandra sighed, sitting next to me on another bag of dried beans.
“Trust me, I get it. I was a runaway too. A little younger though.”
“You were?” I looked at her. She was so confident and pretty. She didn’t look like she’d gone hungry or ever been dirty or alone.
“Yes. I lost my family in an accident and got shuffled from foster home to foster home. One day, I got fed up and ran away.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” She took my hand and squeezed it. “You can tell me what you were running from too, if you want.”
“Not today, okay?”
She nodded.
“We won’t tell him either.”
“You won’t?”
She smiled grimly and shook her head.
“You are going to tell him.”
I hung my head despondently.
“He’s going to be so mad.”
“Isn’t he always mad?” She said with a raised eyebrow. “I thought that was kind of his thing.”
“He’s been really cool. He’s teaching me how to fight. I’m terrible at it. But he’s really patient and kind.”
She clucked her tongue.
“That doesn’t sound like the Shane I know. But if he cares about you, why would it matter?”
“Because I lied. I lied and I kept lying.”
“Were you afraid he would try something?”
I shook my head swiftly.
“No. Maybe at first, but I never got that vibe from him. He’s not a creep.”
She nodded.
“Well, I know for a fact he never made a pass at any of the waitresses here. A lot of them wished he would have.”
Michelle laughed.
“Payton likes him.”
“Really,” Cassie drawled, sounding dubious. “When did they meet?”
“She’s seen him here a few times. She calls him that pretty tattooed man.”
“She’s got that right.”
We all had a good laugh at that.
“Come on, I got us some grub to go. We’ll get you home and then we can talk. If you want, we can be there when you tell him.”
“I need a little time. I’ll tell him, but I just . . . I don’t want to drop it on him out of the blue.”
“One day. I’ll give you one day. By the time you come for your shift on Wednesday, this cat is out of the bag. Deal?”
I nodded, figuring I had one day to try and memorize everything about him. One day to get ready to say goodbye.