Not Your Fault

I really don’t want to live with Nathan. Although I won’t admit it to him that he was right, I don’t have many options for employment outside of Carson’s. At least not anything that doesn’t involve flipping burgers, tossing newspapers, or charging for blowjobs.

Stress presses into me like a hundred pound dumbbell. My eyes scan over rows and rows of books until they blur into one massive wave of paper that means nothing to me. I reach the end of the last isle of books—Historical Romance—and after an unusually long time of staring at a hardcover book with a woman in distress being rescued by a muscled man with long blond hair, realization hits me.

All of this stress is for nothing.

I don’t have to move in with Nathan because I’m not homeless. I’m not homeless because I can afford to pay my bills because I do have a job. All of this afternoon was spent freaking out about being jobless but—here’s the thing—I don’t actually have to quit my job. I can get over this Kr

is Payne thing.

He’s just someone from my past. Someone I used to know. He is a nobody. I will continue to work at the job I love and I will keep living in the rental house I love and I will not waste my time worrying about the man who walked right out of my life ten years ago without so much as goodbye. Or fuck off. Or I’m sorry I killed your brother.

Nathan wraps an arm around my shoulders as we stand in line to check out. “Don’t take this the wrong way or anything,” he says, prompting an eyebrow lift from me. “But, do you think you’ll end up dating him again?”

A creepy high-pitched laugh tumbles out of my throat as my head shakes back and forth. I’m acutely aware that the harder I deny it, the guiltier it makes me look, but I can’t stop shaking my head. “That’s so never going to happen,” I manage to say in my most eww that is so gross I can’t believe you even suggested it voice. “Why would you even ask that?”

Nathan shoves his hands in his pockets as his eyes look over me. “I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling about it.”

I hook my arm around his and roll my eyes and do everything possible to reassure him that he has nothing to worry about. If anything, he should be happy about my current situation because hating Kris has completely taken over my every waking thought. I barely have room to remember that I am unhappy with Nathan and want to break up as soon as politely possible. That’s what Nathan should be worried about—himself. Not my stresses at my job.

As we step into the parking lot, the cool night air brushes my face and brings me back to reality. Not that I was out of reality or anything, because I definitely wasn’t imagining the idea of dating Kris Payne again. Nathan is insane if he thinks that idea has crossed my mind. I don’t know why any girl in the world would date him.

Nathan’s boyfriend powers must be able to sense the tension in the air because he suggests that we get ice cream at the shop at the end of the block. He actually says that too, “The shop at the end of the block,” because the name of the place is I Scream for Ice Cream and no one likes saying that aloud.

Despite the donut for breakfast, and fried hushpuppies for dinner, and the fifty cups of coffee I drank with real sugar, I agree to get ice cream. And Nathan, of course, has no idea what my agreeing to ice cream really means. It means I’m not going to quit my job. I don’t eat junk food unless I know I can burn off the calories the next day at work. Despite the sinking pit of fear and anxiety in my stomach, I will go back to Carson’s Gym tomorrow night at seven. I will work my shift and I will continue on with my life as I have for the last ten years. I will not quit my job because of the new owner. I won’t let that coward scare me into leaving everything I like about my life.

Nathan’s hand squeezes around my shoulders as he reaches for the door of I Scream for Ice Cream. “You seem to be in a much better mood,” he says, kissing me on the cheek. “I like that.”

I smile up at him and let him hold open the door for me. “I am, thanks.”

A teenage boy bursts out of the door before we can walk inside, laughing and licking chocolate ice cream off his hand. “This shit melts fast,” he says, hurrying to run his tongue along the drippy edge of his ice cream cone. “Fucking Texas heat, man.”

“Watch your mouth, boy,” someone says from inside the store. Nathan and I step back to allow them to leave before we walk inside. The man’s voice sends a sharp pang of déjà vu riveting through my mind, and in the two seconds it takes them to walk out of the store, I’m wondering where I’ve heard that voice before.

My first thought is innocent enough. He has a darker tan now than in high school.

My second thought may give me an aneurysm. Holy fuck it’s him.

Chapter 7

Susan is about to unintentionally get herself murdered if she doesn’t Shut. The. Hell. Up.

Normally her second-by-second recaps of the Housewives from Hell reality show she’s obsessed with doesn’t bother me. I actually find it amusing and kind of cute that someone can care about a TV show so much that they spend hours trying to guess what will happen in the next week’s episode. But I’m so not having it today.

It’s been three days since Kris took over the gym and since that night I saw him leaving the ice cream shop. That was the last time I saw him. Now that it’s been over seventy-two hours with no sightings of my new boss, I’m starting to feel like not seeing him is worse than seeing him. Insanity has me wanting to ask Susan if we really did get a new boss or if it was all my imagination. If maybe I slipped in the shower and hit my head and daydreamed the whole thing while lying unconscious on the locker room floor.

I rub my forehead and my lock and key charm bracelet makes that familiar metal jingle next to my ear. Thoughts of my brother and memories of our last few days together have been throwing themselves into my subconscious relentlessly lately. Just when I thought the worst of mourning my brother was long over, that asshole has to show back up in my life and bring on waves of pain and memories.

Now that he’s back, he could at least walk in here and apologize.

“You waiting on our new boss to show up?” Susan asks, suddenly in front of me at the front desk, perched on the sign-in counter. Her mouth hangs slightly open and she wiggles her eyebrows at me. I think I see her tongue dart across her lip, but I’m not really paying attention.

“How many times has Judy bitched at you for being on the counter?” I say, my words coming in spurts as I shove her repeatedly, inching her butt closer and closer off the countertop. “Your fat ass will break it.”

She rolls her eyes and hops off, then turns to face me setting her elbows on the counter and her head in her hands. “Judy isn’t the boss anymore, Del. You of all people should know that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask.

She nods toward the door of the gym. “You’ve been watching that door like a freaking hawk, and I know why.” She leans in closer and swivel in my oversized chair, turning my back toward her. I know what she’s going to say and I don’t have to watch her say it. “You want the boss and his gorgeous face to hurry up and get here. I mean, what’s taking him so long, right? He just bought the place. You’d think he’d be here all the time!”