AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Roman rubs at his brow. “I need to wash my hands.” At my grunt, he smirks. “And get back to work. But yeah, agreed that we want to help Sawyer and Brinlee?”
“Hell yeah,” I mutter.
His smirk turns into a grin. “Let’s do it, then.”
“And after that?”
He shakes his head. “No idea. Do we want them to join the pack? Raise your hand if you think we’re ready to expand.”
When Archer doesn’t move, I take a breath and lift my hand. “I’m in.”
Now Archer is staring at me, a faint smile on his lips. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m sure.”
“That doesn’t make any sense… Ah, fuck it.” He raises his hand, too. “What about you, Ro?”
“I’m in,” he says. “I’ve never felt this sense of belonging with anyone else apart from you two, but those two give me the right vibes.”
Vibes, yeah. I can feel it. And I want it.
The only thing remaining is to get over my own issues, fix my problem, and be worthy of them.
27
SAWYER
Time keeps slipping.
And then rears up and punches me in the face, a sort of weird panic that has me wiping down the counter three times in a row, then checking the coffee machine for the tenth time, then resisting the urge to ask the customers—again—if they need anything else.
How did I lose time and didn’t open the café all day yesterday? When would I have realized if Kyrian hadn’t come to check on me?
Why did he come? Why did he run away later?
Why did he refuse to read what was written under my doorbell?
What’s going on with the sexy McGraw Pack?
Why isn’t Brinlee coming around anymore?
At least, to this last one I have a rational answer. She simply doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore, not after the club fiasco. I wouldn’t, either, if I were her.
Must have been humiliating. Not that being a pole dancer is humiliating, hell, no. That’s not the right word.
Stressful, maybe. Having people you know from the outside world, the real life, enter your twilight world where you thought you were hidden and safe… Safe to be whatever you want to be, whatever you need to be… that must have been hard.
Don’t ask me how I know. I’ve never worked at a club. But it’s like the safety you find in the pages of a book, or in your bed. You’re free to be whatever and whoever you want or need to be, because nobody you know is looking.
And yet the need to help her hasn’t abated. If anything, it’s stronger, and so is my worry about her, and fuck, I don’t know what to do.
Will the McGraw Pack go back to the club? Should I ask them? Should I join in, intrude on her privacy again just to see her?
But of course that’s not the only reason I feel so off.
More time passes. Customers come and go. I take orders. Prepare drinks. Plate pastries.
And then, at some point, Eric opens the door of the café and marches in, making a beeline for me. “Sawyer. There you are.”
