Page 9 of Timber Hollow

9

A bar, Jay

nine days to full moon

R olling out of bed feels like an astronomical task. Starting the shower feels just as daunting. I’d rather do just about anything other than go to work today. Well, that is until I am clean, dry, and dressed.

Then I feel much more alive. Coherent.

Standing in front of the mirror, applying eyeliner I hear Jay's distinct footsteps coming up the stairs. How do I know it is Jay? Instinct. Well.. and his scent permeates the air ahead of him.

The door is open, and I am already dressed for work so my decision is made. Our contrasting schedules makes this whole escapade manageable, but I’d like answers now. I am usually gone when he comes home, and vice versa. Which also means I haven’t had a chance to ask him exactly how it had been possible that I woke up with his dick pressed against my spine.

Not that I completely hated the experience.

No, I examine every minute detail of that morning every single day . Almost as if the moment is on a loop in my brain, it replays over and over and over. It has been so very, very long since I've woken up in a man's arms and still felt…. safe . I'd grown so accustomed to the proprietary way Ethan had always touched me. Like he owned my body. The contrast between Jay and Ethan has made it impossible for me to forget the moments when Jay's hands have been on me.

And how very different his hold feels.

"Are you going to tell me what you were doing in my bed, Jay?" I shout as he walks past without turning from my reflection in the mirror, still applying eyeliner.

He barely makes it a step past the door before he turns, halting with an arm propped on the doorframe, watching as I cap the thin tube. Jay doesn’t answer until I turn and look at him.

"It's not like I'd expected you to be there, Artemis. Marcus didn't tell anyone he was subletting." Jay says, and I ignore the sinking stone in my gut, the acrid sting of rejection.

"Mhm. Answer the question, Jay." That is all I fire back. Marcus told someone . I have his keys, there was a note at the stairs when I blundered in here.

"My brother and his girl are back in town for a while. I gave them my bed. I expected yours to be empty. Honest mistake."

Well, now I feel a little bit like an ass. "Oh."

"Won't happen again. I'll sleep on the couch until they go back home." Jay says, brushing the back of his head with a hand.

He is just as uncomfortable with this conversation as I am. Jay’s intense gaze sears into me, searching for something .

I wonder if he found it.

"Where are you going?" Jay asks, changing the subject abruptly.

"Work" Is all I manage to grate out.

" Where do you work, Artemis?" Exasperation is clear in his tone, but there is something else there too. Jay's eyes track my legs, the curve of my hips, the dip of my waist. A smirk pulls at my lips, watching his slow perusal of my body.

I wear a cropped tank top and jeans, and boots on my feet again. It isn’t nearly as devastating as last night's outfit, but it was Fire Night. Ivy told me last night at closing that the night after Fire Night is usually slower, and taking advantage of the natural ebb and flow of business, Ivy made the day after FN a reduced-hours day. I go in an hour later, and come home two hours earlier—which is how Jay and I managed to cross paths today.

Ivy’s profits and margins are much better this way, or so she’d explained.

Something about the way Ivy talks about the bar makes me really, really excited to go to work with her. And that is a foreign concept all by itself. Enjoying going to work? Who am I?

"A bar, Jay," I reply when his eyes come back to mine. While I gather my keys and wallet, I ask "How long is your brother in town?"

"Long enough." He grumbles, and I snort. There had always been some rivalry there, some unspoken opposition between the brothers for as long as I could remember. Jay has always been bitching about Alex in some capacity. I had wondered if the older brother moving away had eased some of that antagonistic nature between them, but it seems not .

"Well. Thanks for …this," I say, waving my hands around at nothing. "But I have to go.. gotta get gas…"

Well, now that I’ve gotten word vomit all over Jay, I think it’s time to go. The only problem is, Jay’s in the doorframe, not moving an inch as I approach it.

"Have a nice shift, Artemis," Jay says, his voice raising the hair on the back of my neck. The warmth of his body presses against me as I pass, forcing me to duck under his arm.

The entire encounter makes my wolf want to rub up against him. He smells so good.

I make it three steps down the hallway before Jay speaks again.

"Nice ride, by the way, it's sweet."

I chuckle, turning to look at him over my shoulder as I descend the staircase. "Yeah, too bad she won't be mine forever."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I stole it. Toodles ." I give him a finger wave over my shoulder as I stroll out of the house, the light of the fading day turning everything pink and orange.

Leaves crunch under my boots as I walk the pavers to the lot on the side of the house. The Moon is over the halfway point, which means it is almost time for the Pack run.

Pack run and Full Moon.

I still haven’t decided what I am going to do on the full Moon. Haven't officially made any declaration to the Alpha of my presence, let alone if I am going to stay, or not.

I know Ethan is going to show up eventually, and his return is going to mean drama. Do I want to wait around for him to find me? Wait around and let him drag the Pack into our mess?

Or am I better off cutting my losses and leaving right after the full Moon? One run beneath the canopy of trees I called home, with my Pack before stuffing everything in a backpack and leaving in the middle of the night?

Fuck, my chest aches just thinking about it... No… I want to stay... Want to run with my Pack for more than just one night. Which means, I have to see Magnus Temple.

Which probably means talking to Jay. Telling him I am sticking around. Double Fuck.

My thoughts keep tumbling around and around as I drive to the bar, making everything pass by in a blink.

Coyote Bills isn’t packed like the previous nights, but it is still busy enough that the first few hours of my shift pass in a blur. I order myself my usual lunch order- a plate with fries piled high and gravy on the side. A Dr Pepper completes my meal, and I hold it clutched under my arm so I have a free hand for the door. I am making my way to the back of the bar, to go outside to eat and absorb the light of the Moon before the rest of my shift.

The door back here is also where I take trash out at night, and where our parking is. In my opinion, the best part of being in the back lot is that it is away from the front of the bar, and where patrons go out to smoke. Music filters through outdoor speakers for the patio that only a few people are using, the thunk of darts being thrown into dartboards permeating the music, their laughter accompanying it.

October's chill has descended, fog creeping in along the tree line. The Moon already hangs in the sky, nearly at its fullest point. Goosebumps crawl up my bare arms as I settle on the top of the picnic table, setting my food down and pulling out my phone. Thumbing through messages and doom scrolling to pass the time I eat my french fries– barely paying attention to the contents of the screen. My mind wanders back to my most pressing issue, despite how much I try to refocus on the glowing screen in front of my eyes.

The Full Moon is nearly upon me, and I still haven't talked to Magnus. Will I be able to stay away from the Pack when the Moon rises, and when I hear them thundering through the trees next to me? I don’t know. It had been hard enough on my first night here not to run straight into their midst.

What I do know is that these fries are fucking delicious . Cook had sprinkled them generously with salt and pepper fresh out of the fryer, the outside nice and crispy just as the inside is soft and steaming. I can tell that the gravy is from scratch, likely made from the beef au jus that is also on the menu. It is thick, savory and delectable. A perfect snack to get me through the rest of the evening. I’ll probably end up wanting something else before I leave, otherwise, I'll end up catching a deer and having venison breath for the foreseeable future.

Before Cook leaves for the night I’ll get something from whatever food had been prepped and unused for the night. I’m not picky. Well… for the most part.

Ivy told me before I went to my break that they were going to set up the slapshot bar again, enough patrons had asked about it that she wanted to see how much profit we could bring in on a slow night.

The tip jars placed on the bars are already nearly full, and there is still half the night to go. Any tip handed directly to the server is theirs- no contest, but whatever is put in the jars is split evenly between bartenders and Cook. Slap shots are special- since they were my idea I keep a larger share of the jar, and the remaining tips are distributed to the other bartenders. It is a bonus for them to work the same shift as me. So far, even split between that many people, the patrons of Coyote Bill's tip very gratuitously. I've left with at least a rack each night I worked.

If I have to slap around some patrons every night to get a grand, shit, there are worse things to do for money. Ivy had extended the offer to any other bartender who wanted to be in the booth with me, but no one else jumped. Naturally, I don’t mind.

Lone wolf, awooo.

You know lone wolves are a myth, Artemis. My wolf stirs, her inky black fur as dark as night within the confines of my mind.

Not true. We are. I am pretty sure only Direwolves communicate with their wolf this way… Almost a separate being, a distinct part of myself, but also herself.

We are Artemis.

You know that is not what you want. I can feel her, her eyes more golden than my brown staring at me from within the bounds of her beastly confinement.

I know nothing.

She snorts, the puff of air through her ephemeral nose makes her fur shift. I continue munching on fries, passing the time by mindlessly scrolling through apps on my phone.

When I finish my last fry, scooping the last bit of gravy up with it, I hear the group playing darts outside hoot and holler. They've been periodically making all sorts of noise, from booing to cheering and badly singing song lyrics that pour from speakers.

I listen to them, cheering and jeering alike. They sound like a family. Like a pack. Suddenly, my fries aren’t settling very well in my gut.

Am I ever going to feel like that? Like I belong somewhere ? Will I ever belong with someone ? The old wound reopens, a ragged hole in my chest.

Probably not. But that won’t stop my poor, hopeful heart from wishing. Shattering into teeny tiny pieces I never have any desire to pick up. Walking around like a ghost. I can feel the cracks now, the splinters that dug under my skin, festering and aching away.

Maybe that is what the old stories meant about it changing your wolf. Maybe it’s just a broken heart.

Well, that's a cheery ass mood to go back to work with. Fuck.

With that extremely depressing thought at the forefront of my mind, and my food gone, I walk back through the door to Coyote Bills, dropping my plate at the food window. I don’t use an apron for slap shots, since I've learned that leaning over the bar so far usually leads to the strings getting caught on bottles or something else. I almost broke a bottle that way just the other day.

The music changes, going from one being played by the jukebox to the PA system that Ivy is in control of. The song change is intentional. We've decided on a slapshot soundtrack so to speak, a song that will indicate to everyone that I am at the booth.

Her voice comes over the PA system a second later, beckoning patrons over to my side of the bar. Before I forget, I grab a piece of gum from the Pack sitting on the back counter, between the taxidermied snake, and the bottle of A?ejo that is half empty. Hopefully, the cinnamon will help settle my stomach.

Men and women alike flock over to my well, after Ivy’s announcement, choosing their order. Last night at close we’d gone over what did and didn’t work.

There are now three rules for the slapshot booth. Your drink has to be from my little menu, freshly printed and laminated this morning. Cash only , and no fighting.

Simple, but effective.

So, tonight I ask them for their order one after another as they walk up to my little section of the bar. Ivy had also found a practically ancient-looking neon sign made to resemble a hand swinging. Where it came from or what its original purpose had been I didn't know. I'd have to ask Ivy when we close.

Hours pass, and all the while I say "What's your drink Darlin'?" over and over. As I pour their liquor, I'd ask "Pick your poison, praise or degradation?" Consent is important, after all.

Then, one after another I tell them Oh, you're doing so well! Or if it is a guy that wants to be degraded, I'd call them princess, and tell them to drink up. There is a careful balance to maintain. Somewhere between attainable and completely off the market. Flirtatious, and focused on my customer but not so far as to invite trouble.

The implementation of the menu, the sign, and Ivy's announcement on the PA system have made a difference in the stream of patrons at the bar. Angel and the brunette are likewise behind the bar, slinging mixed drinks and beers out in tandem. I throw myself into work, focusing on the next person in line and what their order is, so much so that by the time I spot Jay, Saint, and Dante in line, it is far, far too late to turn and run away.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Saint is in line first, his shaggy blonde hair haphazardly thrown into a sort of bun at the back of his head. He swaggers up to the bar, and leans on his elbow as he grins and says "Hey, Tiny."

"What's your drink of choice?" I ask, trying to ignore the familiarity in his tone, the way his chest looks from under the dark blue button-down shirt he wears. The top few buttons are left open, and even in the dim lighting of Coyote Bills, he looks entirely too attractive for his own good.

"Aw, it's like that? I'll do three A?ejo then." Saint pouts.

My eyebrows shoot into my hairline. A single shot of that is twenty-five bucks. It is only on the menu as a top-shelf option, and no one has ordered it yet. Turning from him to grab the bottle I say, "A man with expensive taste, I see. How do you want it? You want to be told you're a good boy when I slap you?"

"Please?" Saint's green eyes round, making it look like he is giving me a puppy dog pout. I consider it for a moment, pouring his shots into fresh glasses.

"I do like it when you beg," Molten heat blooms low in my belly, my heart racing only a little.

Careful. My wolf paces within my mind, stirred by the tension that is spiraling through me.

Saint slides a crisp one hundred dollar bill across the bar from me, and says "Keep the change."

I quickly cash him out, depositing his change into the tip jar.

Saint goes to grab his shot glass, to hold it but I stop him. "Not yet. When I say. Ready?"

He nods, and I grin. The crack of my palm on his cheek made the crowd gasp, and then laugh.

"Good boy, drink," I say, sliding Saint’s first shot across the bar towards him.

He downs it easily after tapping the bottom against the bar. Saint slams the small glass down, letting out a roar of pleasure. He looks electric, mouthwatering.

Get it together girl, shit.

"You're doing so well. Ready?" Saint nods again, and without a moment's hesitation, I slap him once more, on the other cheek. The right had a perfect impression of my fingers outlined in red, now the left would match.

Saint downs his second shot while I murmur to him in a baby voice "You're so good. Such a good boy." It's an effort to keep myself from laughing since he is a Direwolf and I am giving him very dog-like praise. He swipes his third shot from the bar, guzzling it down, then howling.

I can’t help but laugh at him, letting Saint get away with his slap-less shot.

Dante looks almost annoyed at the whole situation, but I notice his shift, the quick adjustment he makes while his hands are tucked into his pockets.

I grin. "You're next, Dante ."

"Johnnie Walker. Double." He says without preamble, sliding another crisp one hundred dollar bill across the bar. I assume he means for his change to go in the tip jar as well, and he doesn’t say anything to deny it when I dangle his forty dollars above the jar either. So, into the jar, it goes.

"How do you want it?" I ask, counting out his double in my head. Dante is ordering the same amount of alcohol as two shots but in one glass rather than two.

"Don't say anything," Dante says, then taps his cheek twice, waving me on to begin. Well fuck. That seems… boring.

Well, it’s his hundred bucks. If he doesn’t want me to say anything, I won’t.

So, I shrug, wiping my palm against the rag hooked on the edge of the bar. Then, I smack the shit out of his jaw, the impact forcing his head to the side. I couldn’t hit a human like this. Saint and Dante aren’t human though. My palm stings, the flush of his dark skin nearly imperceptible.

Dante's eyes close, the muscle in his jaw feathering. He shakes his head, the muscles of his arms bunching. Then, he chugs his alcohol down in one gulp.

"Thanks for your business." I cheer, giving the brightest and wildest smile I can. "Next."

And that is exactly when I realize that Jay is next, his blue-green eyes swinging into focus as he shoulders Dante out of his way. Jay wears a dark tee shirt, stretched across his shoulders, a and hat on backward. It’s the small smirk on his face that makes my pulse jump when he says "Two A?ejo," Sliding a crisp bill across the bar.

And, it seems that is exactly when all sense leaves me because I ask "What will it be? Praise? Silence? Degradation? How do you want me, Handsome ?" as I pour out his liquor.

Internally, I am turning around and perishing on the spot. What the fuck am I doing, flirting with Jay like that? Outwardly though, I keep my grin plastered across my face, my feet still. The two shot glasses before me are full to the brim, waiting for him to place his soft lips on the rim and drink down the tequila.

All three of these fuckers have paid in hundreds, leaving whatever their change was as a tip. Shit. I don’t know if the money is of their own making, or if it had come from their portion of the pack's profit share. Either way, they are paying a pretty penny for the honor of being slapped by me.

Doesn't that just make your pussy purr?

Jay pats his cheek and says "Do your worst" with a sly smile. Well, mother fucker. Giddy up .

I don't waste any time before I smack him with just about all the force I can muster. I may have put more force than was strictly required for the hit. Jay's eyes shift, the silvery sliver of his wolf peeking out from under his lashes for a split second.

My wolf paces in my mind, a low whine slipping from between her teeth. She's not worried— she's excited. A muscle in Jay's jaw feathers, but he does nothing other than hold my gaze as he drinks down the tequila.

When I hold his second shot out, he nods, and I slap him– but this time he groans. My mouth waters.

"Another," Jay says, setting his two shot glasses down much gentler than Saint or even Dante had.

"What's your poison?" I ask as I watch him pull out yet another hundred-dollar bill, depositing it into the tip jar. My eyebrows scrunch together, and his smile turns wicked and sharp, no longer lazy or sly.

"I'll let you slap me again, but I want something not on the menu in return."

"What's that?" The galloping of my heart has turned my palms clammy.

"I get slapped, then you kiss me," Jay says in a dark voice

I raise my eyebrow. "You're gonna let me slap you again just for a kiss?" What is he playing at?

Jay's blue eyes meet mine in the dark club, and I track the movement as he bites his bottom lip. "Mmhm. For old time's sake." His voice is low, growly. It makes me want to shift on my feet, ease even a little of the tension cording my body. My wolf paces relentlessly in my mind.

Finally, I reply. "Fuck it." Leaning over the bar to drop a kiss on the side of his mouth, lingering for a heartbeat. Without warning or preamble I smack both sides of his face one after another. His eyes don’t leave mine once as my palms connect to his cheeks, but he does murmur " fuck" under his breath when I am done.

"Enjoy your night, Jay," I say to him, ignoring the way my heart pounds in my chest, indicating for the next patron in line.

I learned the brunette's name, Jill, as we swapped the empty keg down in the basement. Refrigeration keeps the entire floor at a chilly 35 degrees. O ne of the more recent upgrades to the old bar. Jill is also relatively new here, a friend of Angel's. Jill is shorter than the rest of us, petite enough that I know without a doubt she is human, like Angel. Her teeth begin chattering almost immediately as we descend in the service lift.

Since I've swapped many a keg in my day, and Ivy had shown me where everything is down here when I closed, I volunteered to go down with Jill when she noticed the tap was empty. Coyote Bills boasts a very large selection of on-tap beers, an entire wall of the basement double stacked with the containers. Jill is barely tall enough to reach the coupler, so I tell her to shut the gas line first, and she grabs a stool to stand on top of on her way back over. I'm going to tell Ivy that someone else should change kegs, Jill just isn't big enough.

"So are you from around here?" She asks, watching me disconnect the old keg and join a new one to the lines.

"Yea. Haven't been home in quite a while though." I respond, making sure all the connections are tight. Jill grunts in response, putting her stool back in its corner. Ivy told us to use the service lift, taking the empty keg to the back where the vendor will pick it up tomorrow. The original Coyote Bill had the lift installed in his later years when he couldn't manage to bring the kegs back upstairs on his own. I’d be willing to bet the refrigeration and the lift were installed simultaneously.

Ivy intercepts Jill and me as we're exiting the kitchens after washing our hands.

"Just the two I was looking for. I need a word before you both go back behind the bar." Ivy says, and my gut sinks. Before either of us can ask what she means, Ivy presses on. "A reminder on ground rules. No fraternization with patrons." Ah, fuck. She doesn’t need to look directly at me for me to know that she'd seen the kiss I dropped to Jay's mouth.

Fuck, fuck fuck. My face heats, more with embarrassment than shame.

Of course, she'd seen it. Of course, she'd seen me practically throw myself at Jay.

Jill rescues me without even knowing it. "I'm sorry, he asked for my number and he seemed like a nice guy. I didn't see the harm in it."

"I know. But what you don't know is that after he left the bar, he went outside bragging about how he got the bartender's number without any effort, and then all those guys came inside and began harassing Angel for hers. See how it gets out of hand so easily?"

Jill ducks her head and mumbles a yes . Ivy meets my eyes and raises her eyebrow like ' Care to add anything?'

"I'm sorry, I didn't think that applied to my boyfriend." The lie slips out easily. Fuck. This is an incredibly stupid solution.

Ivy's eyebrows raise. "Boyfriend? Oh. Didn't realize you had one. No, the rules don't apply to boyfriends but try not to kiss him again while you're behind the bar. Please." Ivy says, and I immediately feel guilty for lying to her.

"Consider it done," I reply, tying my apron around my waist. Won’t be happening again anyway. That particular lapse in judgment cannot happen again.

"Jill, can you go buss some tables? George is getting behind out there." Ivy orders and Jill scurries away without any more encouragement.

"Anything else?" I question when Ivy continues staring at me, my gut laden with stones.

"Yeah. Your boyfriend is out there asking for you." Again, that eyebrow of Ivy's is raised, and I swear that she can tell I'm lying.

I nod my head, pressing my lips together. "Ah. He's a little…" I don't finish the sentence. I don't know what to say. Thankfully, Ivy nods and waves me off.

It doesn't take long to find him among the crowd. Jay, Saint, Dante, Alex and a woman I presume to be Alex's wife are all crowded around a booth, plates of apps and fries scattered across the table with an assortment of drinks. Dante sits on the edge of the booth and spots me approaching first. He taps the table in front of Jay, tilting his head in my direction.

The weight of Ivy’s eyes on my back is tangible, watching Jay and I interact. This is so dumb. So incredibly stupid. I didn't have to lie to her. Silently, I'm screaming— begging Jay to play along. I'm totally fucking fired if she catches me in a lie. Particularly one as blatant as that had been. And I need this job. Want it.

Jay stands up when I stop in front of their booth, and he says "Hey, Artemis,"

Before he says anything else I interrupt him." Hey, you're my boyfriend. Okay?" Jay's eyebrows scrunch together, but he must have seen something on my face because he immediately smiles that lazy self-assured smile he'd worn after discovering it was me that he woke up next to.

"Sure, anything you want." That is all Jay has to say, but his eyes flash. A glint of something in the blue-green depths.

"Great." I gulp. With my heart pounding and fingers trembling I take that final step towards him, stretch the tiny distance to his face, and kiss him full on the mouth.

Jay doesn't hesitate. Immediately, his arms band around my ribs, hands fisting in my hair. I lose myself in the feeling of Jay— for one single heartbeat. Jay groans into my mouth, pulling me closer to him and I whimper back, a sound he swallows greedily–and then, it's too much.

I pull away, stepping away , and say "Thanks..." I have to clear my throat twice before my voice sounds normal. "Uh.. I'll see you around?" Jay lets me go, even if his eyes shift, that sliver of wolf peering through—for only a moment.

Fuck.

Fuck.

FUCK.

After closing the bar down with Ivy, I collapse into the driver's seat of the Corvette and dial Sam's number. She answers on the third ring. The Bluetooth connection to the car is automatic, so I just drop my phone into the cupholder when it clicks over.

"Hello?" She answers, her music chirping softly in the background. It's easily after eleven there, but Sam is a night owl, practically nocturnal.

"You will never believe the fucking day I've had," I begin, shifting gears and driving away from Coyote Bills. It's a quick trip from the bar to the old Grimes place. Enough time to rant to her before I get home. "No, let me rephrase. A couple of days."

Sam laughs, then says "Tell me." A crunch through the speaker tells me she already has snacks.

"Okay so first of all— you'll never guess who I'm bunking with— and who I woke up with in my mother fucking bed."

"Who?" Sam gushes, then crunch crunch crunch on her snack.

"Jay motherfucking Temple."

" The Jay?"

"Naturally." I grouse, rolling my eyes even if she can’t see me.

"What happened!" Sam demands, I can tell she’s practically frothing at the maw to get answers out of me.

"Nothing that interesting. It was intense— but nothing happened ."

"Okay, boring. Don’t think I missed how sad you sound about that by the way, but please– go on." Sam drawls, saying "What else, then?"

"So tonight at work guess who shows up?"

"Jay motherfucking Temple?" She chirps cheerfully.

"Jay motherfucking Temple!" I agree. "And do you know what he did?"

"Haven't got the foggiest." Sam snarks, making me chuff a laugh.

"He and his friends all ordered top-shelf shots, and tipped very generously ."

"Okay, what's the problem there?" Crunch crunch crunch, Sam says everything around a mouthful of whatever she’s eating.

" Then, Jay put a hundred dollar bill in the tip jar and said I could slap him if I kissed him."

"HE DID NOT!"

" He most definitely did."

"Tell me you did it!" Sam hisses into the phone, and I know she’d fly out here to strangle me if I said no.

"Of course I did it. Not full on the mouth, just the corner. But I still did it." The entire world beyond the reach of the headlights is dark. Quiet. Sleeping.

"Fuck thats hot."

"Shut up. That's not all."

" Oh ?" I swear Sam is going to slither straight through my phone speaker to gossip with me.

"My boss saw me, because , of course, she did. And because I'm a fucking imbecile I lied to her when she prodded about it, saying that Jay is my boyfriend because fraternization with the patrons isn't allowed."

"Oh boy, okay… so that's not bad. No one has to know— you can go in tomorrow and say you broke up." Sam offers, and I feel even more dumb.

"Sure. That would have been optimal. Except that Jay had been asking for me, and of course, Ivy watched me go up to him."

"And?" Sam asks, and I feel like I have ice in my veins, adrenaline flooding my system just thinking about the kiss. Still, I navigate easily through the streets. I'm nearly back to the apartment now.

"I walked up to him and said ' Hey you're my boyfriend' and fucking kissed him!"

Sam squeals into the phone, exploding with laughter. Had I been holding the device to my ear, I would have been deafened.

"Stop that! This is not funny!"

"Yes, it is. This is FANTASTIC!"

" Sam!" I chide, needing guidance.

"What? You're doing amazing all on your own." She replies, offering absolutely nothing else. "Ethan has been asking about you by the way. His bribe to give you up is to set me up with some rich friend of his." She tells me, and her voice drips with disdain.

"I'm sorry he's bothering you," I reply. Guilt weighs heavy across my shoulders, sinking into my gut like acid. I never wanted her to be pulled into Ethan's focus.

"I don't care. You're clearly doing much better away from here." Sam says softly, and I wish that we could have this conversation in real life. It would be much more fulfilling face to face, rather than three thousand miles apart.

"How long until he tracks the car, do you think?" I ask as I turn down the street to the old Grimes place.

"I'm not sure he's aware that he has that ability, to be honest." Sam chortles, making me laugh too.

"That does sound about right." I agree, pulling into my parking space at the apartment. There are a few cars here already, but the house itself is dark.

"I am happy for you, you know. You sound…. so much happier."

"Thanks, Sam. I think you'd like it here too, ya know." I reply, tracing the leather stitching on the steering wheel.

"You think so? Maybe I'll come visit."

"You should, but I think I'm gonna let you go. I'm itching to go for a quick run before I crawl into bed."

"You do that. Bang any hotties you see on your way."

"Shut up. Love you."

"Love you."