Page 30 of Don't Speak

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I’m cleaning the last few glasses before restocking the shelves when Dean walks in for his shift. I haven’t glanced up at him yet, but I can just feel his presence. As if he can sense something wrong, he asks, “Hey, Nikki. Everything okay?”

“Just fucking peachy,” I say, angrily rubbing the same spot on the already-clean glass in my hand.

He slowly strides up to me, a smirk gracing his face as though my current mood amuses him. He places his hands on top of mine, stopping me from continuing to frustratingly clean it. He takes it from me and places it on the bar before taking my hands again.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he says calmly.

“Look, we barely know each other. I know we’ve fucked and all, but I don’t think we’ve quite hit the stage of being emotionally vulnerable with each other,” I tell him, attempting to pull my hands free, but he just grips them tighter, unafraid of my lashing out at him.

“Don’t pull away from me, little lioness.

Tell me what is wrong. I know we don’t know each other well, but I’d like to think after the other night, we’re more than just strangers,” he says, and I glance up at him, my eyes connecting with his.

The seriousness in his words reflects to me in those stern eyes of his, and I don’t know how to explain it, but I do feel like I can trust him.

After years of abuse, I’ve gained a pretty good sense of reading people.

Just as I go to open my mouth, Ben walks in, and we quickly part ways, pretending that we’ve been working this whole time.

“Hey, guys. Ready for tonight?” he says, dropping his clipboard on the bar and pulling out envelopes. It’s payday, and Ben still works with old-school checks.

“Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be,” I tell him, taking the envelope with my name on it from him. Dean takes his and places it behind the bar.

“Awesome. I’ll be here until about 11pm, but I need to leave early to take care of something. Let me know if y‘all need anything until then.

“Thanks, Ben. Everything okay with Sarah and the baby?” I ask in concern. He doesn’t usually leave that early.

“Uh. Oh. Yeah,” he says before adding, “everything is fine. I just have to wrap something up.

He seems a bit twitchy today. Like he’s anxious about something. I hope everything is okay.

“Thanks for the check,” Dean says, breaking me from my curious thoughts.

“Yeah, sure. No problem, Dean,” Ben responds before picking up his clipboard and walking back to his office.

Once he’s gone, we’re alone again. The rest of the crew are mostly on time, but some are late arrivals. Dean and I are the only ones who show up early, apparently.

“Now, back to what we were talking about,” he says, changing the subject abruptly.

“I don’t like talking about my feelings, Dean. If you haven’t noticed that by now.”

“Yes, but I also get the feeling you just really need to vent. So come on. Let me have it. I’m a great listener,” he says with a smirk.

“I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into,” I tell him. “My life isn’t all rainbows and sunshine.”

“Is anyone’s?” he questions.

“In comparison to what I’m about to tell you? Yeah, actually.”

He looks at me as though he’s ready for anything I’m about to tell him. I feel comfortable in this moment, which is not something I’m used to feeling. I hope my instincts aren’t wrong about him. I don’t think I can handle another betrayal.

So, I tell him. I tell him about Sean’s escape from prison, about what I endured as a child into my teen years—minus the details—about my mother, and about the mysterious photos showing up on my front porch.

It all flows so easily. Information I’ve told a select few just spews from my mouth without hesitation.

I am honestly shocked with myself by the time I’m finished talking.

He just looks at me, not in a judgmental way or in disgust. He’s looking at me as though he sees me.

He stands from the chair he was sitting in, takes one look around, and walks up to me, slamming his lips to mine.

The hairs on my arms stand straight up, and my nerve endings feel like they’re on fire with his touch, and it’s like electricity dances across my skin.

It feels like all the air has been ripped from my lungs before he pulls away.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Thank you for what?” I respond in confusion, stunned by the kiss.

“For trusting me with your story,” he says before taking a few steps back.

“You’re not… disgusted by me?” I question.

“Why would I be?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Because most people are when they find out someone has a lot of fucked up baggage,” I tell him.

“I could never be disgusted by you, Nikki,” he growls, his demeanor changing quickly as though I offended him by insulting myself.

My cheeks redden, and I return to the bar, ensuring the last few tasks have been completed.

“Do you have any idea who is sending you the photos?” he asks me.

“No. They’re always just dropped on my porch. I’ve been meaning to install security cameras, but I just haven’t gotten around to it.” His body shifts when I tell him that last part.

“And they have me in them?” he asks.

“Yes. They include you in them. Umm, if you wanted to come over after work tonight, I could umm… show you,” I tell him awkwardly, thoughts of the other night creeping back up into my mind.

“Yeah. I think I’d like that,” he says, looking at me with heat burning in his eyes.

I flush again, turning around to hide the smile on my face.

What is it with this man? Why am I letting all my guards down with him? I think this is my brain telling me THIS is normalcy. I’m just so used to people breaking my heart, this isn’t MY normalcy.

Dean shouts to Michael, the bouncer, to open the doors for the night.

“Let’s get this night over with then,” he says, placing his hand around my face and using his thumb to glide across my bottom lip. My breath hitches.

“Sounds like I have a date later.”