Colton walked past without a word. Just a sharp nod and a tight grip on the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder.
I froze. Totally blank. My mouth opened—and nothing came out.
Tessa gave me a look like,Seriously?
“Good morning, Colton,” she said, overly bright.
I dropped my elbow onto the counter, forehead landing in my palm. Smooth.
He didn’t even slow down. “I’m gonna start unloading the dog food. I didn’t get to it yesterday.”
His voice was brisk and clipped. His feet were heavy against the floor, like each step was trying to stomp out his frustration.
When the door to the storage room shut behind him, Tessa turned to me, eyes wide.
“What was that?” I hissed.
Tessa lifted her head slowly. “What?”
I threw a hand in the air, gesturing toward the door he’d just walked through. “‘Good morning, Colton’? That’s the bestyou could come up with? I doubt he’s having a good morning, considering the whole world thinks I’m his parole officer.”
“Well, it was better than the deer-in-headlights impression you gave. You looked like someone unplugged your brain.”
She gave me a pointed look. “And why are you mad at me? Shouldn’t you be mad at him? He didn’t say good morning. Or—more importantly—he didn’t bring us coffee.”
I rubbed my eyes. “I’m not mad at him. Tessa. Honestly. With the way Vanessa keeps dragging him through the mud, I think saying nothing might’ve been the smartest move he made all week.”
Tessa tilted her head. "So what now?"
“I’ll go over after he’s stacked all the dog food. He should be tired by then.”
Tessa smirked. “Smart. Get the tall, strong guy to do all the heavy lifting.”
“Oh, shut up.” I laughed despite myself.
“You should probably get back to work,” I said, reaching for the clipboard.
Tessa didn’t move. “You first.”
I wasn’t in a rush to go over to Colton. I had no idea what to say when I did. So I lingered by the door, pretending to check something on my phone. I’ll just wait until he takes a break. Which, of course, is exactly when he decided to take one.
Colton sat on an overturned bucket near the back of the storage area, with a bottle of water in one hand and his forearms resting on his knees. Sweat clung to the back of his neck, his shirt damp from hauling fifty-pound bags in and out of the supply closet.
I grabbed a plastic crate, flipped it over, and sat beside him. I wanted to make it clear I wasn’t here to push.
I didn’t say anything.
Ryan had this trick. Stay quiet long enough, and the other person would fill the silence.
It worked.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say hello this morning.”
I smiled a little and handed him a fresh bottle of water. “No need to apologize.”
He nodded, eyes still down. “I was so angry, I just needed to blow off some steam.”
I shifted on the crate, turning slightly toward him, trying to catch his eyeline. “Honestly, Colton? I’m impressed with how you’re handling this.”
