Page 64

Is Bryce that type of person, though?

Two weeks ago, from what I knew about her in passing, I’d have said it’s unlikely. Now? My gut reaction is to expect the best from her. The caring actions that I’ve seen from her over the past few days have me wondering if everyone’s too quick to judge her. Myself included, even if I’m not someone who naturally expects the worst of a person.

What a stressful life that would be.

Bryce might look and act tough, but I’m certain there’s so much more hidden below the surface, and I wouldn’t mind being the one to test that theory.

I think I’ve already decided that I will be.

“I said I needed oat milk. Not regular. Are you incompetent, or can you follow a simple instruction? Redo it.”

The cruel tone is all wrong for a place like this, a soft, comforting coffee shop nestled into the only busy street in all of Cherry Peak. While I may only remember having heard this voice once before, there’s no mistaking the owner of it.

Peakside Pamila scorns the sweet barista with a jabbing finger and square-shaped nail hovered above the counter. The barista looks mortified, her ears and nose tipped with red as she shakes like a leaf behind the cash register.

Not only is it too early for this type of behaviour from anyone—let alone a grown woman—but it’s completely uncalled for. I kept my mouth shut at Peakside when she insulted not only Bryce but me as well. It wasn’t my place to start an argument in such a public setting when I didn’t even know half the storybehind her disgusting comments, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t wanted to.

For the first time in my recent memory, I contemplated what it would feel like to slap a woman across the face. I’ve never turned to violence for anything. Not when I was an angry child and Johnny would pull my hair and pinch me when he didn’t like something I’d done or later on when he’d use our sisters against me to get what he wanted. He was always the more impulsive twin. I enjoy thinking things through so I don’t wind up in situations that I won’t know how to maneuver my way out of.

But seeing Bryce upset because of someone else’s ignorance and hatred? That pushed me further than I’d been pushed in a long, long time. I felt . . .stabby.

If I hadn’t been shoving all my focus into keeping her from jumping over the bar and doing something that would have absolutely crushed our night, maybe I would have been the one to stand up to Pamila instead of Poppy.

Is it normal for me to have been jealous of Poppy in that moment? I don’t even know anymore.

Not having been the one to stand up for Bryce has unsettled me a little. It feels like it should have been my job.

There’s an odd burning sensation in my chest, and I linger behind Pamila, not going back to Delaney yet. My body is on a different wavelength than my brain. If it weren’t, I’d be doing what I always do and leaving this to the people involved instead of butting in.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make you a new one now,” the barista rambles, her sneakers squeaking on the floor as she rushes off.

Pamila chuffs at her and waits at the counter with her nose in the air like she’s the queen of goddamn coffee or something.

“You know, it costs nothing to treat people with kindness.”

I know my eyes have blown wide at my outburst. It’s so unlike me that I’m not prepared for her to whip around and glare at me.

“What did you say?”

My swallow is thick, but I attempt to play off my nerves with a shrug. “She didn’t mean to mix up your order. I’m sure if you had noticed it wasn’t right and asked her nicely, she would have still fixed it for you. Instead, you chose to belittle her.”

“Mind your own business, Daisy Mitchell.”

“You’re a bartender. Do you appreciate it when customers speak to you like this when you make a mistake?”

“I don’t make such stupid mistakes.”

I fold my arms over my chest and keep my head high, not allowing her to make me feel weak. “Lucky you. Not everyone is as perfect.”

She scoffs coldly and faces forward, opting to give me her back instead of responding. It’s sad, really. How angry people can get at others over problems with such easy fixes. I feel bad for her. You have to be incredibly upset with your life to take your pain out on others this way.

Something angry and not yet sated pinches at me. An urge or pull that might as well be forcing my jaw open with eager fingers.

“Just a bit of advice, Pamila, but from now on, I suggest you keep your snide remarks inside when it comes to Bryce. She’s not a person you want to be attacking like that.”

Fascination lining the dark, ugly brown colour of her eyes, Pamila gawks at me over her shoulder. “I’m not afraid of her or her sidekick, Poppy.”

“Good. Be afraid of me.”