When I opened my eyes again, the screen had gone dark. A petty part of me wanted to let it stay dark, to let Steven stay in the darkness with it, feeling the heavy weight of his shitty decisions.
But before the thought had even fully materialized, I was already discarding it, typing in my password to wake up my phone. It didn’t matter that Steven was my least favorite person. I would never leave anyone alone in the darkness.
Chloe
You’re not the only one awake at 3 am.
Three dots appeared, winking at me in a wave, then disappeared only to reappear a moment later, like he was second-guessing his words. I didn’t know what surprised me more: that Steven McAllister was searching for something insightful to say, or that I was waiting with bated breath to see if he could pull it off.
No, not just waiting.
Hoping.
Steven
What, the princess isn’t so perfect after all? I’m shocked.
The words replaced the dots, landing like a balloon pop. My head tilted as I stared at the screen for a long moment, my thumb hovering. There were so many ways to respond. I could do the right thing and gently guide him from lashing out to more constructive ways of dealing with his emotions. If I were his therapist, that’s what I would do.
But I wasn’t his therapist.
And he was such a fuckingjerk.
It couldn’t possibly be my responsibility to fix all the man-babies of the world, could it? Certainly not at 3 a.m. when I had my own shit to deal with.
But I wasn’t going to say something mean, either. Because he had texted me first, reached out to me for absolution that wasn’t even mine to give, and that told me exactly where to stick the knife.
So I turned off my phone without another word.
5
STEVEN
What the fuckwaswrongwith me?
6
STEVEN
If the definitionof insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, then I was certifiably insane because for the thirty-seventh time in a year, I walked into Jo’s Coffee knowing Chloe was on shift.
Thirty-six times I had walked through that door since James’s accident, and thirty-six times Chloe hadn’t even taken a breath before kicking me right out again. I had no reason to believe the thirty-seventh time would be any different, but here I was anyway. Looking forward to it, even. The truth was, antagonizing Chloe was the best part of my day.
So maybe I wasn’t certifiable. Maybe I was just an asshole.
In my defense, I figured I’d also apologize for being a jerk last night, since I was already here and everything.
Her back was to me as I pushed through the door, but the bell jangling alerted her to my presence. “I’ll be right with you!” she called without turning around.
“Take your time,” I muttered, knowing she couldn’t hear me.
Halfway to the counter, I squatted down to retrieve a folded piece of notebook paper.Winter is coming!!!it announced at the top with an ominous number of exclamation points,followed by a list of chores. Clean the gutters, re-caulk the windows, board up a hole in the attic where a raccoon had chewed its way through.
Two sneakers, white with colorful flowers embroidered down the sides, appeared directly in front of me. I dragged my gaze up the loose-cut denim jeans to the red apron proclaimingJo’s Coffee! Come for the coffee, stay for the Jo—a funny slogan considering that Josephine Ramirez, the owner, was not known for her cheerful disposition—and kept going until I found a scowling mouth and meadow-green eyes.
“That’s mine.” Chloe held out her palm.
My jaw popped. Chloe was going to climb on a ladder to clean the gutters and battle attic raccoons? No fucking way. But I handed her the list anyway.
