Best Served Cold

“You can,” I replied slowly, stepping aside. I shut the door and locked it again. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Sweet as pie with a smile that could rot teeth, she said, “I came to see just how much you stole from me.”

Ouch.

“I deserved that.” I put my hands in my pockets.

“You did.” Her tone was short, sharp, and clipped, all pretense of niceties gone. She was over that already, and I should have known the ice queen would have rebuilt her fucking castle.

She walked around the store without limping, apparently now able to put some weight on her toe. I noticed that she chose to rest on her heel whenever she stopped, and she was still in flip-flops with those toes strapped.

Knowing her, she was putting herself through pain for the sake of pride.

“Color scheme. Menu. Decorations.” She turned, pain flashing in her brown eyes. “Sophie told me, but I didn’t want to believe it, you know? I didn’t actually want to think you’d do this to me, but you did.”

What the fuck did I say to that? Sorry wasn’t going to cut it.

“Every last thing, Chase. You knew I had the loan sitting in my bank. You knew what I was buying. I guess the only thing you didn’t copy was the furniture.” She took a deep breath and looked away for a second. “Why? How? How the hell could you do that to me?”

I shifted, but she spoke again before I could.

“Actually, you know what? Fuck that. There isn’t a single reason you can give me to justify what you did.” Her ponytail swung when she shook her head. “And you can’t even give me one, can you? You don’t have a reason. Did you really want to hurt me that bad?”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” I said softly.

Honestly.

“Then why?” Her voice was getting louder, and it shook now. “Why did you take everything I’d planned for Cold and use it yourself? Did it make you feel better that I’d broken up with you? Did you feel good about kicking me when I was down? I always knew you had, but for you to admit it to me? No. Screw this. Fuck you, Chase.”

She stalked toward the door and pulled it, keeping her head down. It rattled but didn’t open since I’d locked it, and it took her two more harsh tugs to realize that and turn the key.

She yanked the door open then stopped, one foot on the sidewalk. “I hope the next time I see your face is when you’re closing this place down.”

She didn’t even look at me as she said it.

The door slammed with a finality that echoed off the cold, tiled floor.

My heart sank to my stomach, and I wanted to throw up. I felt physically fucking sick at the pain I’d seen in her eyes. I hated myself for how her voice had cracked on the final words she’d said.

I slumped forward on the counter and ran my fingers through my hair, my forehead resting on the cold marble.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Well,” Marnie said. “I can’t say you didn’t deserve that.”

I jerked up and pushed off the counter. “Don’t, all right? You think I don’t know that, Marn? Of course, I deserved that. I deserved more than that, but I don’t need you to fucking tell me that.”

All trace of teen attitude disappeared, and she walked up to me and hugged me tightly. I took a deep breath and hugged her back, fighting to keep all the emotion bottled up inside me.

Marnie let me go. “You may as well tell her why you really opened the store now.”

“What good could that possibly do me right now?”

“Absolutely none,” she admitted. “But think of it like this: It can’t get much worse now, can it?” She smiled wryly and headed back out to the kitchen, leaving me standing in the middle of the store.

She was right.

And Mom had been, too.

There really was a fine line between love and hate, and the line Rae was walking on was most definitely hurt.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN – RAELYNN

I slammed the door behind me a lot more gently than I had Chase’s.

I didn’t know what had come over me. I couldn’t actually explain why I’d gone into his store except for this: I had to.

I had to know what it looked like. I had to know how closely he’d followed my ideas. I wanted to know if they’d been an inspiration or if it was a carbon copy.

It was a mixture of both, but close enough that it hurt.

It really, really fucking hurt.

Hot tears burned the back of my eyes, and it took everything I had to keep them inside. I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making me cry, whether he’d know it or not.