He’s kept his distance like he promised. I only see him occasionally at meals, and sometimes not even then. When he’s not there, Amanda usually isn’t either, which just fuels my suspicion. I don’t care what he says, that kind of attachment is strange, especially when he’s not even her therapist.
Speaking of therapists, Luke keeps nudging me in that direction. Not pushing, just suggesting. Asking questions, giving me an out with a wink if I don’t want to answer.
But his eyes say he’s ready when I am.
It’s not that simple.
My past isn’t something you just unpack. It’s a mess. A murky, tangled stream full of things that should stay buried. Even brushing up against it brings back memories I’d rather leave alone.
Like the first time I met Reid.
It was at one of the first dive bars I worked at, waiting tables and picking up kitchen shifts when they needed me. Reid was there with a local biker crew—loud, obnoxious, the kind of table I was told to avoid.
But I couldn’t stop looking at him.
He stood out. Not just because he was stunning, but because he was quieter than the rest. Even when he laughed, it never reached his eyes. He was always watching, always alert, his body tight with tension like he was ready for something to go wrong.
I watched him for nights without realizing he’d noticed me.
Then one night, when I took the trash out, he was in the alley, smoking. I tried to walk past like he wasn’t there.
“Aren’t you a little young to be working in a place like this?” he said.
“I’m twenty-one,” I lied, my heart racing. I was eighteen.
“You sure about that?”
"Yeah." Worried he might get me fired, I whipped out my fake ID and flashed it at him. He smirked without even looking at it, his eyes fixed on me instead.
It felt like he could see right through me, like every secret in my head and every way I pretended to be okay was laid bare.
Like he knew I wasn’t.
After that, he started showing up every night I worked. Even when the rest of his crew were nowhere to be found. He’d sit in the corner, drink, and say almost nothing.
Sometimes he’d shoot pool or let one of the women hovering around him flirt for a while. There were always a few.
But I never got the sense he was there for any of that.
I got the sense he was there for me.
I told myself I was imagining it. I almost never caught him looking my way, even when I wanted him to, and he never flirted with me the way the older men did.
Then one night, one of the regulars got too handsy while I was clearing his table, and Reid appeared out of nowhere.
It was like something out of a movie.
One second, I was bent over collecting plates and empty bottles.
The next, a hand slid over my jeans and grabbed my ass. I yelped and jumped back as the table burst into laughter.
The laughter cut off fast.
One of the men was suddenly lifted off his feet and slammed into the wall, a fist cracking his nose before anyone could react.
It happened so fast I barely tracked it.
Reid was just there, right beside me, pinning the guy to the wall, his expression cold enough to kill.