Page 11 of Absolutely Pucked (Punk as Puck #3)

CHAPTER

SEVEN

KILLIAN

The risk I was taking being in Turenne did nothing except prove that I was a glutton for punishment. And parking my car at the apartment complex where I’d been the first time was an even more ridiculous and self-centered choice.

But I was counting on Ford not looking my way.

I just wanted to indulge in the sight of him.

I had four months to lie low and not nearly enough to pay for a hotel room if I wanted to be able to eat, but I’d slept in my car for weeks after fleeing California.

I could do it for a little while longer.

There was finally a light at the end of my tunnel.

God only knew what I’d look like when I came out the other side, but at least I would be alive.

And I would be free.

I hadn’t known what freedom tasted like in nearly a decade, and the thought was dizzying. Terrifying. I wasn’t sure I’d know what to do with myself when it was all over .

Taking a breath, I stretched out as best I could in the back seat and stared at the roof of the car.

This was my one asset left worth anything.

It had been my first big purchase after getting my promotion, and walking into the dealership and handing over a check with the signing bonus I’d been given had been a rush.

I felt powerful.

I felt important.

Now, I was huddled up under a cheap twenty-dollar comforter I’d bought from a discount shop, in an apartment parking lot, trying to catch a glimpse of the first man I’d ever had sex with. And the only person who had ever made me feel like I was catching fire and wanted to burn.

Reaching up, I traced a crease in the fabric of the car roof with the tips of my fingers.

I hadn’t heard from Damir, but I had a feeling he was pissed at me for the way I took off on him.

It was a dick move, leaving a note and escaping while he was at work, but he would have talked me out of it if I’d waited.

But I was tired of being a burden.

This whole living in my car thing wasn’t sustainable, but it was a start. And I didn’t think getting a random job was going to break the terms of my deal with Daniel. I just couldn’t work anywhere with a reputation that would have done me any favors.

I was pretty sure he and Delia both would have enjoyed watching me sling burgers at some hole-in-the-wall diner.

And frankly, that was becoming more appealing every night I curled up in my seat with sheets in the window and a prayer on my lips that I’d get through the night without freezing to death .

It wasn’t winter yet…but it would be before I knew it, and while SoCal got cold, it was nothing like the deep East Coast with snowbanks higher than my eyeline.

It was best not to think about it now.

Movement caught my eye, and I hunkered down even further, straining my ears for any sound of a voice.

There was no one, but when I was brave enough to peek over the edge of the window, I saw Ford’s car leaving his spot.

I could just make out his profile—the sharpness of his nose, the curls in his hair, the movement of his mouth as he started to sing along to whatever music he had blaring on his radio.

My heart did a little kick-flip. I had no business feeling this way about him.

He didn’t even know who I was, and it really needed to stay that way.

My only real hope about being in Turenne was to do enough work that Tucker might hear me out. I wasn’t expecting forgiveness, but a path forward to being in his life again was better than nothing. I would take whatever punishment he wanted to dish out.

And, in truth, he deserved to know about Delia and the things she’d said. We’d both been wrapped up in her lies.

My phone buzzed a moment later, and I glanced at the screen. I’d applied for a couple of jobs in town, and the text was asking me to come into the little coffee shop up the street for an interview in the next half hour.

Shifting, I leaned over my driver’s seat and grabbed my wallet.

There was no sense in wasting gas on this little trip.

Not when literally every penny counted toward my survival.

Peering into the mirror, I looked haggard, but I was still clean enough from the last shower I’d stolen from Damir’s place before I left, and I could easily hop over to the gym for a guest pass when I needed it next.

Glancing around the car, I let out a heavy sigh, then stepped out and stretched. My body was cramped from being twisted into too-small shapes for a grown adult. The walk was going to feel good, and while there was a huge storm on the horizon, the cooler air felt comforting against my skin.

I locked up behind me, then headed down the street, where I could see the café sign perched next to the bus bench a mile down. Traffic was low, and I kept my head bowed in case Tucker drove by, though I doubted he’d be able to see me from a passing car.

That was my only saving grace, and I hated myself for taking advantage of it. But I didn’t want to speak to him yet. Not before I was ready to confess every sin that had been committed over the last ten years.

My feet ached by the time I reached the café. I was in the wrong shoes, and I was going to get blisters, but the pain was grounding. I needed it to feel like this was all real.

Inside smelled like fresh baked goods and brewing coffee, and my stomach rumbled, but coffee shop pastries were most definitely not in my budget. I was currently living off gas station hot dogs and the cheap dollar-store packs of crackers, lunch meat, and cheese.

If I could get a job, I might be able to afford a pay-by-the-week hotel. If I could do that, I might start to feel a bit more like a person again. But God only knew if or when that was going to happen.

“What can I get you?” the woman behind the register asked. She had bright green curls and piercings in each of her cheeks, which made her look like she had dimples.

“I have an interview with…” I grabbed my phone, but before I could open the message again, she answered for me.

“Todd, right? Go have a seat over there in the corner, and I’ll grab him. It’ll probably be a few minutes.”

She didn’t offer me a drink, which was probably for the best. I’d been off little indulgences like caffeine for a while, and if I started now, I’d probably be shaking out of my shoes before the interview was over.

It was bad enough I was in a wrinkled shirt and jeans. Hardly the look of a man who took himself seriously. But it was a café, so I could only hope they were a bit more relaxed than the last law office I’d been at.

The chair squeaked loudly across the floor as I pulled it out, and my body filled with hot mortification. There was no one around to hear it but me, and yet, I still felt like a disaster.

“Relax,” I told myself as I sat. My gaze moved toward the large windows, and I could see the sky getting darker by the minute. The clouds were moving fast, fat and heavy with the promise of a massive downpour, which was likely going to make my walk back to the car very wet and cold.

This was not exactly the good omen I was hoping for.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” I whispered down at my hands. My fingers looked rough, my nails short from biting them and my knuckles cracked with dry skin from the harsh soap I’d been using in public bathrooms.

There were worse ways to be. I knew that.

The few shelters I’d looked into had told me I was one of the lucky ones.

This was a blip in my life—a single moment that would eventually pass.

But if I was ever on my feet again—if I got back a fraction of what I’d lost in the last few months—I was going to do more than sit on my ass in my office and take everything I had for granted.

Glancing around, I saw the barista had come back to the coffee bar. She wasn’t making eye contact, but I wasn’t going to hold that against her. Minutes were ticking by like hours—honey-slow and heavy. Had I been there long? I was too afraid to look at my phone.

I didn’t want to seem impatient. This job—the potential for this job—was everything for me in that moment.

“Mr. Banks?”

I jolted and turned to see a man who didn’t look older than twenty walking up. He still had the marks of youth on his face—a few pimples near his hairline, light copper waves that looked like they hadn’t been washed in a while, and he smelled like he’d just taken a huge bong hit.

I stood and offered my hand, which he stared at, snorted, then bumped his knuckles against my palm.

Wonderful.

“Did you want, uh, a coffee or something?”

I shook my head as I sat back down. “No, thank you.” God, I hadn’t done this in so long I’d almost forgotten what I was supposed to be doing. Cross my legs? No. Fold my arms? Probably a bad move.

Except, was this guy going to notice my body language? His red-rimmed eyes told me probably not.

“So, uh…” The guy pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket, and I realized it was a printed copy of the application I’d submitted. He squinted down at it. “Uh. Killian. Weird name.”

What the fuck was I supposed to say to that? “I had interesting parents.”

He snorted. “Yeah, man. Mine too. Elder millennials, am I right?”

“I…sure.” Whatever. I smiled at him, which felt more like a grimace, but he didn’t seem to notice my discomfort. “So, as you can see, I have a pretty extensive resume, but?—”

“Yeah, bruh. Stanford. Like, what the fuck are you even doing here?”

“Starting over,” I told him. I folded my hands on the table and leaned slightly toward him. “Things took a turn for the worse, and I just need some stability.”

“Right. See, the thing is, my boss said there’s not a chance in hell we can hire a guy from Stanford. No offense.”

My heart sank down to my stomach. This was the first time my degree had betrayed me, but I should have known. I’d put it on there like bragging rights—like I was saying look at me, I’m too good for this job, so you should hire me and consider yourself lucky.

I was too humble not to admit that now.

“I’m more than capable of working a coffee bar.”

He laughed. “Yeah, bruh. Me too.” He sat back and pushed the application toward me. “Still a no go. Sorry.”

I wanted to scream. Or cry. Maybe put my foot through the thin wooden panels lining the walls of this place. Instead, I took the application, though I wasn’t even sure why he was giving it to me, and I stood up.

“Thanks for the opportunity.”

He shot me finger guns and didn’t move or say goodbye as I walked around him and headed for the door. The other barista didn’t so much as look up at me, and now I understood why. Public humiliation number…I didn’t even know anymore. Five thousand sixty-four?

I was infamia—the unwanted—in the customer service world, so where did that leave me?

I had no idea what I was going to do next. I could try again, of course. There were plenty of places hiring around here, but how many times would I go through this? How many people would think I was a joke. Or lying. Or…worse.

The tiny spark of hope I’d been given by that conversation with Daniel began to fizzle out. Dread took its place. And darkness. My chest felt like it was caving in, and I needed to take a moment to breathe.

There was a bus bench, filthy and covered in grey globs that had once been pink chewing gum. I sat anyway. What did it matter these days? I couldn’t give up. That’s what Delia wanted. That’s what gave her the rush of power over me. But I didn’t know how to fix this.

If I called Tucker, he’d probably laugh in my face and tell me this was well deserved. If I knocked on Ford’s door and let him see me like this—shaved, hair cut, the same face as the friend I’d betrayed—he’d probably punch me.

What did that leave?

Scrubbing at my eyes, I stood back up and began the walk to my car. I at least had that. My one saving grace. Shelter, if nothing else. Even if the apartment complex told me I had to move, I could do that. I could roam around, nomadic and lost, until Daniel’s ticking clock counted down to zero.

Half a block up the street and five minutes from my car, there was a crack of thunder. Something in the air shifted, and I knew what was coming. The skies opened up, and freezing sheets of water drenched every inch of my skin before I could finish a single, complete breath.

Because of course that happened. Karma wasn’t broken today. I was.

I was shivering by the time the apartment complex sign came into view, and all I could think about was climbing into my car, stripping naked, and curling up under my blanket. It was my one comfort.

Except the universe wasn’t done playing games with me because as I turned the corner and looked for it next to the dumpster, the only thing I saw was an empty space and a single bag lying in the middle of an oil stain with half my clothes dumped out.

A scream lodged in the back of my throat.

This wasn’t my car being towed for illegal parking. No. There was also broken glass on the ground and my phone charger lying in the pile of what was left of my things.

I stared, my entire body numb from the shock and the cold. And then something bubbled in my gut. A cry?

No.

I doubled over with laughter, my knees going weak before they lost strength completely. I fell onto the pile of broken glass, and I felt it tearing into my skin, though in the moment, there wasn’t any pain. There was just the harsh reality that I was entirely, completely, epically screwed.

The laughter turned into sobbing a moment later when the truth was unavoidable. I had nowhere to sleep, no real money to live on, and no job. My hands scraped along the dirty asphalt as I gathered my things back into the bag.

The zipper had been broken, but everything still fit. Sort of. I tucked the charger into my pocket, and when I stood, I felt the warm trickle of blood falling down my calves. I could deal. I shuffled toward the sidewalk, then stared at the one door I told myself I had to avoid.

But what choice did I have?

All I could do was confess, prostrate myself in front of Ford, and beg for a single moment of charity. I had a feeling he’d give it to me. It would cost him, but I wasn’t ready to roll over and give up.

Not yet.

I just needed a single moment of kindness, but I wasn’t sure if that was too much to ask.

Luckily for us both, when I knocked, he didn’t answer. He wasn’t home yet, which meant I got a moment to think. A moment to figure out if I really should be here in front of his door with a request on my lips I had no right to make .

I slid down the wall beside his doormat, tucked my knees against my chest, and buried my face in them. I could smell car oil and the faint hint of coppery blood from where the glass had torn at my skin.

However long it took Ford to get home, it was going to feel like an eternity.

But I would wait for as long as I needed for this one last surge of hope.