Page 19 of Don't Speak

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

My shower couldn’t be hot enough. In fact, if it burned, I’d welcome it.

Hearing her voice brings up so many painful memories.

Memories I have been running from since I was a kid.

Memories that haunt my nightmares. I hate her.

I hate that she took the one thing I needed most. My mother.

The thought of what I could have had taunts me every time I see a mother-daughter duo out in public.

Every time someone announces they’re getting married and their mom goes wedding dress shopping with them.

When someone announces they’re pregnant and their mother is there by their side.

Watching all the mother-daughter duos getting their hair and nails done or going shopping together.

Sadness consumes me at the thought of what could have been if things had just been different.

If she had been able to control her drinking.

If she had never met Sean. Tears form as I think about everything I didn’t get to have with the person I loved most in this world.

I’m cutting time a bit close today due to the events, so I steel myself, masking the emotions I’m so used to disassociating from, and shut the water off, getting out, and throwing myself together in a presentable manner.

I give Simba his evening pats and rush out the door.

The whole drive there, I try to think of something else other than the witch who ruined my morning, but all thoughts lead back to Dean.

We’re working together tonight, and after my dream, I hope I can keep it together.

Besides, I just met him. I can’t fuck him yet, can I?

Even if I wanted to, he isn’t interested.

He’s just a nice guy. With a darkness that calls to yours.

I pull into the usual spot but head around to the front to walk through the front doors.

Something about descending the spiral staircase just makes me smile, and I think I could use that right now.

Walking through the doors, I begin my descent.

The smooth iron of the stairs feels cool to the touch, and with each step I take, a peacefulness washes over me.

This is why I don’t want to have to leave this place.

I’ve had the longest sense of normalcy here.

With only a few steps to go, I turn around a corner, and there he is, standing behind the bar in a black tee and a pair of denim jeans, shining the glassware.

He looks up at me, his hair the perfect length and his eyes shining with something almost akin to desire.

I chalk that up to my mind playing tricks on me and step onto the floor, walking toward him.

“Wow. I’m not used to people beating me here,” I tell him.

“Yeah, well, I had nothing else going on today. I decided to get a jump start on anything that needed to be done before we open,” he tells me.

Self-sufficiency is really becoming a turn-on.

All of the others I’ve trained, besides Cora, always showed up at least 30 minutes late, and they were slower than molasses at making drinks.

You gotta move quickly if you want to work here.

“Well, tell me what still needs to be done then, boss,” I joke, but Dean’s head snaps in my direction, and the fire that burns in his eyes is back. It lasts for only a second before he tells me, “You can grab these glasses and put them back on the shelf if you’d like.”

So, I do. I grab all the newly shined glasses and head over to the shelves to stock them, making sure the martini glasses are hung by their stem in the holder. Once I’ve finished, I go to take a step back when I’m stopped by a hard body. That’s not the only thing I notice that’s hard.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I was trying to squeeze behind you as you stepped back,” he says apologetically, grabbing each arm to stabilize me.

Heat creeps up my neck at the feeling of his hard cock in his pants. Why is he hard right now?

He seems to know what I’m thinking and quickly steps back. Okay, so maybe he does find me attractive. My heart picks up at that thought.

I play it cool, pretending I didn’t even notice.

The rest of the shift is uneventful. The drinks were flowing, and the music was blaring.

Dean mostly kept his distance from me, only asking mundane questions from time to time.

The whole shift, I couldn’t help but think of the rather large member in his pants and what I’d like to do with it.

I take this thought all the way home with me, scrubbing the bar smell off me and crawling into bed before drifting off into what I hope is a nightmareless sleep.

I know one thing is for certain. I absolutely want to fuck this man.