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…disgusted….
That thought pushed the blade already embedded between her ribs deeper into her heart.
The chiming of the bell over the door jerked Cilla from her self-recriminating thoughts. She opened her eyes and sighed. She only had two more hours on her morning shift, then she could clock out and enjoy what was left of her Friday.
Which meant she was going to take a quick trip to the Shur Save, grab a frozen pizza, and peanut butter cookies, then veg out in front of the TV to binge K-Dramas like they were the cure for heartbreak.
Lifting her head and plastering a smile on her lips to greet the newcomers, her smile immediately died when she saw four people she never wanted to see again slink into the diner, their lips curled in disgust. Sasha, Tasha, Marci…and Jaime.
Patriot’s Jaime.
What was she doing there? It was Friday at 9:30, why wasn’t she at work?
Dana, thank God, greeted them, speaking with Sasha in low tones, before directing the group to her own section.
Good. At least she wouldn’t have to deal with the petty meanness she knew would be thrown her way if she’d been forced to serve them.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t dealt with women like them her whole life, she was just…so freaking tired of having to hear the same insults over and over again. She got it—she knew she was ugly and fat—they didn’t need to remind her of it like it was their sacred duty to make her feel like shit all day, every day.
After leaving high school, she spent a few blissful years living on her own, working at the diner, and existing in relative peace without the bullying. Then…she followed Stephie into the Unchained clubhouse, and it was like high school had been resurrected. The club women lived and breathed venom and toxic beauty. The ol’ ladies were nice enough, but they kept to themselves. It was the hangarounds, the clubwhores, and the unofficial girlfriends that were vipers, immediately seeing her as prey.
From the beginning, Sasha, Tasha, Marci, and Jaime had made it their mission to make Cilla feel small and worthless. Funny thing was, they hadn’t needed to do anything to make her feel that way. She existed in small and worthless. It was her reality.
Except…for a few short months, she’d felt…meaningful, significant. She’d felt seen. She’d honestly believed that a man like Patriot saw something worthwhile in her, something he wanted to nurture.
But she’d been so wrong.
The burn of tears behind her eyes made her spin toward the swinging kitchen door. She ducked her head and hurried away from the piercing stare she could feel searing a whole in the side of her head. No doubt, the Unchained women were watching her, waiting for her to do something they could humiliate her about.
Entering the tiny locker-slash-storage room opposite the kitchen, Cilla leaned her forehead against the cold, hard steel of her locker. She wiped at the lone tear that escaped, and cursed.
She just needed to finish her two hours, and then she could go home and just…deal. That’s all she could do. Deal.
A familiar notification sound dinged from inside her locker, and she pushed off it to open the door. She snatched her cell from inside her purse and checked the screen.
Two unread texts; the ding was a reminder that she had texts waiting on her phone.
Deciding to take her ten-minute break, she input her code, opened the texting app, and immediately tensed.
Patriot: Pizza tonight?
The time delivered was an hour ago. The next text came in sixteen minutes ago.
Patriot: And don’t bother avoiding me. I’ll find you.
What the ever-loving hell? Not knowing how the heck to respond, she hovered her thumb over the keyboard and nearly jumped out of her skin when Dana banged through the door.
“What the fuck are you doing back here? Tables five and seven want service. I’m tired of picking up your slack. Just because you want to be a lazy ass, doesn’t mean I’m gonna keep covering for you,” Dana sneered, before slamming back out the door, not even bothering to wait for Cilla’s response.
Dana? Picking up her slack? Cilla snorted, rolling her eyes. The woman did the bare minimum to eek by, which was why her tips were always to dismal. Then she’d whine and complain that Cilla got all the best hours and tables. Well, if she didn’t half-ass everything, maybe Millie would schedule her for the busier times during the week.
Blinking down at her phone, she decided to ignore the text. There was no way Patriot was going to show up at her house with pizza tonight. He was waiting to claim Jaime.
But he kissed you….
Then he forgot about her for days.
What could he possibly want with her now?
