"Yeah. How'd you know?"
"I've been doing some research, pulling in all kinds of favors." His mouth tightened. "You'd think with all my connections, I'd be finding a new job. But no, allI'mfinding is a load of garbage." Under his breath, he added, "I should've applied to the sanitation department."
I winced in sympathy. "That bad, huh?"
"The worst."
"But what about Bluefield Bank? You said something about Lexie's references?"
The guy nodded. "Yeah, she's gonna lovethis.When they called her old boss, he told them that she was a great employee."
"Oh, but—"
"Whenshe was sober."
My jaw dropped. "What?"
But Mitchell wasn't done. "And here's another one. He told Lakeside Distributors that Lexie had questionable hygiene."
My nose wrinkled. "Seriously? What does that even mean?"
"Gotme," the guy said. "But it wasn't a mark in her favor. I can tell youthat."
By now, I felt like throttling him – and I didn’t mean the messenger. I mean theotherguy, Cole Henster, the monster who'd brought my sister so much misery. "So heisout to get her?"
"Not justher," Mitchell said. "The guy's been blackballing a bunch of us."
"But why?" I asked.
"That's what I'm gonna find out." He gave me a serious look. "But if it makes you feel any better, your sister's in good company. He's done it to just about everyone who quit."
Hearing this, Ididn'tfeel better. In truth, I felt worse – although to be fair, my mood hadn't been terrific even before Mitchell had shown up. But now, as I considered what he'd just told me along with what I'd seen on the other side of the fence, I came to a horrible realization.
Men – especially hot, successful men – were not to be trusted.I'd known this. And yet I'd let down my guard anyway – first with Bryce and then with the monster across the street even if he didn't know it.
To think, just the other day, I'd been willing to consider that he might not be all bad.
I'd been such an idiot.
As my thoughts churned with new worries for my sister, I couldn't help but wonder what was happening right now between Bryce and Natalia.Was she still clinging to him? Was he still smiling at her?
Were they still laughing?
Had they been laughing at me?
Just then, I heard a sound – an awful sound that I hadn't heard for two whole years. It was the sound of me crying.
It wasn't a loud, sobbing sort of cry, but the quiet sniffling sort that sounded more pathetic than anything. Even worse, I was doing it in front of a stranger.
As Mitchell stared down at me, I could practically read his thoughts.He hadn't signed on for this.
Through my sniffles, I managed to say, "Sorry, I'm not usually a crier." I looked down and realized with a start I was still holding onto Mitchell's arm.
But just as I went to let go, he said in a surprisingly gentle voice, "Do you need a hug?"
Did I ever.With a little nod, I reached out and clung to him with one arm – the onenotholding the glass of eggnog.
Thatone I held slightly out to the side to make sure I didn't slosh it all over myself – or even worse, on somebody who was just trying to do a good deed.
