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Marci bends to help, but, again, I put out an arm.
“I’ve got it.”
“I’m fine.”
But there’s a strange look in her eyes.
Marci’s not fine. She’s so far from fucking fine. Carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. It annoys me that I care, but I do, and I’m starting to think I don’t have a fucking choice in the matter anymore.
After the glass is cleaned, Marci returns to Jayjay and Hannah. I say goodbye to Cash and Savage, then walk out of the back door of Longhorn’s and along the beach toward my cottage.
At home, I fill the bowls of food and water for the stray cat and place them on my back porch, then shut the sliding glass door.
I set up my camera, sit on my bed, and wait for another picture. When I’m done, I head out my door again and start the long walk toward the Heartstopper.
Ten
MARCI
I shouldermy purse and wave goodbye to Hannah and June, then head for the diner’s front door. June’s been drinking mostly water so that she could ferry us home, but Hannah is going to have a headache tomorrow for sure.
I’m going to have one too, but for different reasons.
Jesse. What the actual fuck happened tonight? Today? And why do I care?
It’s so frustrating to be this confused about someone I despise, who’s already caused enough damage in my life. Yet another sign that Taylor iswinning.
I unlock the front door of the diner and enter. The window of the diner is fixed, thankfully—I managed to get a guy out to install another pane of glass this morning, but it cost me way too much, and it compounds the problems I have.
Billy is in need of money. My diner is under threat. And the fact that business is waning thanks to the fall months makes a bad situation worse. I need a minute to breathe and think about it.
Maybe some kind of joint venture with another business? But I’ve tried that before. Or a festival? There’s already the chili pepper festival in summer, but what if I hosted a burger-eating contest? It feels like a good solution, but the fact is, I can’t afford it.
You can do it. You’ll figure this out.
The words are in my father’s voice, and I take comfort from them. I shut the door behind me and start toward the door behind the counter that leads to my apartment. I’m halfway to it when a dark figure steps out of the kitchen.
My heart freezes in my chest, and so do I.
The guy rounds the counter and moves toward me. He’s wearing black. Including a balaclava, but dark eyes peer out at me. He lifts a hand, and something glints in it.
I backpedal and scream, scrambling for the pepper spray in my purse.
The attacker advances toward me, moving fast as lightning, and I’m done.
“Help!” The word is strangled.
A crash sounds behind me, and Jesse streaks past me, heading straight toward the guy with the knife.
“Watch—” I start, but Jesse’s almost on top of the guy.
The attacker’s eyes go wide, and he scrambles away, vaulting over the countertop and running back through the kitchen. Jesse yells wordlessly, sliding over the counter and charging after him.
I tremble on the spot, my hand on the clasp of my purse. I bring out the pepper spray and take a step toward the kitchen. And then another. And then I’m running because that man had aknifeand Jesse doesn’t have a weapon.
I skid around the counter, holding out the pepper spray, my thumb on the trigger, and crash into the kitchen. It’s empty. But the door at the back is open. I run out and spot Jesse at the end of the alleyway.
“Wait!” I scream. “Wait! He’s got a knife!”
