Page 12 of Screwed by the Minotaur in Hallow’s Cove (Hallow’s Cove #6)

Chapter eight

Lea

It was early evening when I decided to wash up and head out to Killy’s.

I’d spent the rest of the day deep cleaning my new apartment.

It didn’t need as much work as the shop, just a good clean and maybe some new fixtures down the line.

My new bed and boxes had arrived, and I was grateful that the movers took care of the heavy lifting, allowing me to stay upstairs and direct them.

I wasn’t exactly hiding from Rick, but I didn’t want to see him until I was ready.

I poked my head out of the shop to see if the coast was clear and headed toward the town bar. I had put on another dress. Jeans and a T-shirt were my regular go to, or most often, dirt-stained overalls, but I enjoyed dressing up and feeling girly every once in awhile.

I ordered a snakebite from the bar and surveyed the scene.

It was much quieter on a weeknight, but there were still plenty of patrons.

I zeroed in on Rick immediately. He was leaning against the bar, drink in hand, talking animatedly to a very pretty human.

She was blonde and willowy. Tall and lean in a way I never would be.

Jealousy surged in me, making me hot and flustered.

I’d come to Killy’s to talk to Rick—we could at least agree to be civil.

Yet here he was with someone else. Already.

Maybe he was a new girl every night kind of guy.

My stomach clenched at the idea of him having sex like that with someone else.

I was torn between walking up to him and giving him a piece of my mind or quietly slinking away with my tail between my legs.

I had already chewed him out in public once, I wasn’t about to do it again.

I was about to turn and leave, full drink still in hand, when Rick turned to see me.

Shit. So much for slinking away. I chewed my lip as Rick sauntered over, looking too good to be allowed.

“Lea,” he said, almost casual, but not quite. There was something tight around his mouth and a flicker in his gold-flecked eyes that made me wish I’d spent an extra five minutes practicing my resting bitch face in the mirror.

“Rick.” I let the word hang, hoping the weight would do some of the talking for me.

He glanced over his shoulder at the blonde, who was busy at the pool tables, and then back at me. “Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight.”

“Didn’t think I’d see you with a plus-one so soon.” There. That sounded pithy and not at all desperate. Success.

He winced, and I almost felt bad. “She asked for a lumber recommendation.”

“I don’t care if she asked for a damn house, Rick. You walked out of my bed like I was just another girl on your roster, and now I’m supposed to smile and watch you charm someone else like it doesn’t hurt?” I hissed, loud enough for only him to hear.

Rick’s jaw flexed. He looked away, then straight at me, eyes full of that weird, wounded patience I hated almost as much as I craved it. “Lea, what do you want from me?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I shot back. “Maybe common decency?”

“So you want to just pretend it never happened and we’re just neighbors? I can do that.” His voice was low, meant only for me, and the words hit in that place just under the rib cage that never quite healed right.

I folded my arms, clutching the condensation-slick glass like a shield. “Yeah, maybe that’s what I want. To pretend this never happened.” I said, my tone revealing that couldn’t be further from what I wanted.

Rick started to say something—maybe even something real, something I would remember and turn over in my head a thousand times later—but the blonde was suddenly at his elbow again, smiling up at him with a kind of easy, practiced charm that made me want to snap my glass against the bar and see if I could still remember how to use the jagged edge.

She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and then, with the oblivious confidence of someone who’d never had to work for attention, leaned into him and giggled at something he said that I couldn’t even hear.

I was so done. The anger that had been simmering all day finally boiled up, scalding over my self-restraint. Before I could stop myself, I set my glass down with a thunk, all but slamming it onto the sticky surface of the bar, and turned on my heel.

The first few steps felt like walking out of my own skin, nerves zapping cold and electric up and down my arms. I could hear Rick behind me—not following, not calling out, just standing there, letting me go.

Maybe that’s what pissed me off the most: I stormed out like I wanted to be chased, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to actually come after me or if I just wanted to prove I could leave first this time.

Rick

She stormed out, and I just stood there.

Fucking stood there , like a goddamn idiot.

The door slammed behind her, and the silence left in her wake was louder than any shouting match could’ve been.

The woman I was talking to completely disappeared.

I hadn’t been lying. We were just talking shop.

She happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The few patrons at the bar who’d overheard turned back to their drinks, pretending they hadn’t seen the whole thing unfold like some small-town soap opera.

I stared at the spot Lea been standing. The fire in her eyes, the crack in her voice, the way she’d looked at me like I’d broken something sacred.

Because I had.

And now she was gone. Probably packing up her things, figuring out the quickest way out of town, cursing herself for ever letting a minotaur between her legs—let alone near her heart.

Harley gave me a wary look as he slid another snakebite my way. I didn’t even remember asking for it.

“You alright, Rick?” he asked, quieter than usual.

I didn’t answer. Just stared down into the depths of the drink Lea had said was her favorite. She’d told me that story with this half-laugh, half-confession voice, like she’d already decided she wanted to trust me and couldn’t quite stop herself.

I’d spent years playing it cool. Sleeping around. Keeping things light. Because the truth was, no one had ever made me feel seen. Not for who I was underneath the muscles and the horns and the player reputation. They wanted the idea of me. Not me.

But Lea… she looked at me like I was more. Like she was trying to figure out every hidden part of me without even realizing it. And it terrified the shit out of me.

Because I wanted her to figure me out. I wanted to let her in.

And now she thought I didn’t give a damn.

I slammed back the rest of the drink and scrubbed a hand down my face.

My pride was bleeding out all over the bar, but it wasn’t just pride.

It was fear. It was longing. It was the bitter, aching realization that I might have just met the only person I’ve ever really wanted something real with—and lost her before I even had a chance to try.

I left the bar by midnight, the old wound throbbing somewhere behind my sternum.

The world felt too tight, the air too sharp.

I didn’t want to go home, so I let my feet carry me in slow, angry circles around Main Street.

By the time I passed her window, the new shop was dark but not empty.

I could see the faintest glow through the second-story glass, a silhouette moving behind the curtain.

Lea, probably unpacking boxes or crying or both.

My stupid heart did a little stutter-step at the idea.

I wanted her. There was no denying it. But I was also so fucking pissed—at her for lying, for the mess she’d made. I wanted to yell at her for it as much as I wanted to hold her again.

So I went to her.

I didn’t think. Just turned on my heel and marched up the steps to her place, feeling the anger and heartache and fuck-it-all coil tight in my gut.

The door to the shop was unlocked, boxes stacked high in the gloom.

I took the stairs two at a time, every step vibrating the frame of the old building.

At the top, I stopped. Raised my fist to knock.

Lost my nerve, then knocked anyway—harder than I meant, loud enough to startle a banshee.

The door swung open, and there she was.

Lea stood in the half-light, curls natural, cheeks flushed, wearing a threadbare T-shirt and leggings. She looked so much herself it almost broke me. She was caught off guard, mascara faintly smeared from earlier, hands braced on the door.

“Rick,” she said, voice low. “What the hell is going on?”

I stared at her. I didn’t know if I wanted to yell or apologize, or collapse in her arms and let her fix every broken thing in me.

For a second, I just stood there, breathing hard, the haze of Harley’s cheap whiskey mixing with the hot mess of everything I’d been trying to tamp down for days.

“I need to talk to you,” I said, and even to my own ears it sounded raw.

She looked me up and down, eyes raking over my face and catching on the half-buttoned shirt, the smell of bar, the nervous tremor in my voice. She waited, arms crossed over her chest, daring me to do something—anything—besides stand there and glare.

I stepped inside. I half expected her to slam the door in my face, but she let it hang open, like she wanted an escape route, just in case. Maybe she did.

She beat me to the punch, her voice clipped. “If you’re here to rub in that you’ve already moved on, don’t bother. Message received, loud and clear.” She folded her arms tighter, like she was keeping the rest of herself from leaking out.

The anger in me flared—instant, white-hot, and sharper than I meant. “You lied to me,” I shot back. “Don’t play hurt like I’m the asshole here. I thought you were leaving. I gave you exactly what you asked for.” My hands went to my hips.

Lea’s eyes flashed, wounded and fierce all at once.

“I never lied to you.” She huffed, like she’d been holding that in all day.

“And anyway, what was I supposed to do? Announce that I might actually want something real with you, after you made it very clear that you only do flings?” She held my gaze, and I could see her jaw tremble, even as her voice got stronger. “Would that have made it easier?”

“Yes!” I bellowed, and the echo came back at me off bare wood and drywall, rattling down the hallway. “You didn’t think to maybe mention you bought the building next to mine?”

She laughed. “You think I came into this town with some master plan to trap you?”

“No—I don’t know!” I shouted before I could stop myself. I realized I was pacing like a bull in a corral. I was standing right in front of her, so close I could see the flecks of green in her brown eyes.

For a second, neither of us moved. The air between us was electric—anger and longing and something else, something thicker, roping us together even as we both tried to break free.

She just shook her head, the movement small and precise. “You’re not even sober,” she said, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Come back when you are. Try using your words then, instead of just shouting.”

That stopped me. For a second, I wanted to slam something—put my hand through drywall, smash the old light fixture over her head. Instead, I just stared at her, my jaw clenched so tight I could taste blood in the back of my mouth.

“I’m not drunk,” I spat, but it was a lie. The whiskey haze made everything feel sharp and unfocused all at once.

“Don’t come here if you’re going to talk like that,” she said, voice growing firmer. “If you want to yell at me, do it sober.”

I blinked, head swimming. “I thought—”

“I don’t care what you thought,” she cut in. Her voice cracked, but her stance didn’t waver. “I’m not going to discuss anything while you’re this drunk. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.”

Her apartment door clicked softly behind me, but its sound reverberated through my skull like a gunshot.

I staggered up to the apartment, the stairs a crueler enemy than anything Lea could conjure.

The night blurred in streaks of whiskey and regret, and by the time I collapsed onto the bed, I couldn’t tell which was burning more.