Fuck.
“Does he know where you are?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t think he could have figured it out, but there’s a chance.”
“What do you mean?”
She let go of her necklace to run a finger under her eye. “The guy from the bar. He was in the cafe before and wanted to know my last name.”
I nodded, remembering her telling me that. “You think your ex had something to do with that?”
“It’s possible. I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but he could be Jason’s friend or someone he hired to find me.”
One of the horses whinied behind us, but I barely heard it over the blood rushing through my ears. I was tempted to tell her I’d be glued to her side for the foreseeable future until we knew for sure what was going on with her ex, but I didn’t want to suffocate her, and I definitely didn’t want Avery to wonder what was going on.
“Does Avery know?”
She shook her head. “No. And please don’t tell her. She doesn’t really know anything other than he’s not nice. She’s just… She’s too young, Cal.” Her voice broke again.
I pulled her against my chest, letting my hat slip off her head and fall to the ground. My fingers stroked through her hair, the pieces frizzy from the rain. “I know, baby. We’ll keep her safe.”
I fucking meant it. These two girls were quickly becoming everything to me, and I wouldn’t let anything happen to them, regardless of what it took.
28
Sage
The last seven days went by slow, each day dragging on. I hadn’t spoken to Callan more than a couple times since our conversation in the barn because we were both swamped with work.
I’d taken on a few extra morning shifts at Bell Buckle Brews, working until Avery got out of school. She had a science project that was due in a few days, so we spent every day after we got home working on the assignment. Callan was booked with lessons anyway, so even if we had time to go see him, he was busy, too.
It’d been a few hours since I opened the cafe, the customers few and far between this morning, so when the cowbell above the door dinged, I perked up immediately. Much to my surprise, Erica came strolling in wearing her black pencil skirt and vibrant purple blazer.
“Good morning,” I greeted, straightening my posture. The last thing I wanted to look in her eyes was bored. I didn’t forget that she was under the assumption that my efforts at work were lacking recently.
She surveyed the tables before looking at the counter I’d scrubbed endlessly all morning. Without many customers coming in, all I could do to fill my time was clean, organize, and bake.
“Morning. Not a lot of foot traffic today?” she asked.
I shrugged. “It’s been steady.”
She came around the counter, eyeing the pastries in the bakery case, presumably trying to see if they were fresh or days old. “The place looks good,” she said before disappearing into the back.
I stayed up front, assuming she wouldn’t want me to leave the register, before she called, “Sage, a moment, please.”
Wiping my hands on my apron, I reached for the bell below the counter, setting it in the center of the counter in case anyone came in while I was in the back. I took a steadying breath before heading through the swinging door. Erica was by the oven, peeking inside at the pastries I had going.
“Is there something wrong?” I asked, doing my best to keep the slight waver out of my voice.
“Nope,” she replied, closing the oven door and then moving on to look in the mini fridge below the counter.
She looked in every drawer, wiped a finger along every surface, likely checking to make sure everything was in order. That was what every good manager did. I didn’t need to worry.
And yet…
“If it was something Gemma said—”
“Gemma?” Erica interrupted, rubbing her two fingers together after having checked for dust atop the spare coffee machine on the counter.
“You said you were going to check in.”
She turned on the faucet for a brief moment, running her fingers under the water, then grabbed a paper towel to wipe her hands dry. “Right. Well, everything looks in order here.”
My hand reached for my necklace on impulse, but I forced it back down. “Was it her?”
She tossed the paper towel in the trash bin, then faced me. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
My brows pulled together. Surely she had to remember. “You said someone made a complaint about my work performance.”
The slightest bit of recognition shone when her chin tilted slightly higher in the air. “Ah, that.” She was quiet a moment, crossing her arms as she leaned a shoulder against the cabinet beside her. “I can assure you it wasn’t Gemma who made the complaint, as to keep the peace here in the cafe.”
My forehead creased further as her words didn’t make anything any clearer. “I’m confused. Who filed the complaint, then?”
Her finger tapped her arm a few times as she contemplated telling me. “All I can say is that it was a male who spoke to me on the phone.”
My eyes widened slightly before the worst case scenario started flying through my mind. Was it the guy from the bar, the same man who came in asking my last name? Was that why he’d come in, so his complaint was more viable if he had my full name?
Or could it be Jason?
