Page 73 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
I bit my cheek to hold back the reply I wanted to say—that the two of us had carried the team for the past month. The team certainly had all but spent the past two workdays twiddling their thumbs because we’d already frontloaded all the work for this project.
“I’m going to do what I can, but I have a meeting first thing with HR this morning. And later with Chester.” The VP of the company. I winced. “I can’t guarantee you’ll both be able to keep your jobs.” The sentence pierced me like an arrow. Fired. We could be fired over this.
We were idiots to think we could pull this off. No, I was an idiot to think I could pull this off. People like Hailey and Beck always got away with stuff like this. But not me.
My head drooped to my hands. I was minutes, maybe seconds, from curling into the fetal position.
“I’ll let you know what is decided. But you’ll need to be available should we have contracts to send.”
Great. So, the rest of the vacation would be spent checking emails to see when the axe would fall. A ringing in my ears muffled the rest of the conversation, which was fine. I’d heard enough.
If I got fired over this, would anyone hire me again? How would I buy food? Pay for rent? I pictured my belongings in trash bags stuffed in my Prius, just like how we’d bagged our things when we lived in the van.
After hanging up, Beck knelt in front of me. “Everything is going to be alright. We are going to figure this out. Okay?”
I nodded, too numb to do anything else.
A loud voice outside our yurt made me jump. “If you want breakfast, you better get it now! We leave for Manuel Antonio in half an hour!” I recognized it as Doug’s voice.
“Come on,” Beck said, taking my hands. “Let’s get some food in us. We’ll feel better.” I let him pull me to my feet even though the idea of food made my stomach turn.
Outside, others from the wedding party were mumbling and cursing over Doug’s rooster call wakeup. We lingered at the back of the pack with Gabe. He looked like he belonged with the cast of The Hangover with his mussed hair and bloodshot eyes, which was funny considering I hadn’t seen him touch an alcoholic drink the entire trip.
“Are you seriously going to let that idiot marry your sister?” he groaned, rubbing his eyes.
“Well, we still have three days to stop the wedding,” Beck said. “What did you have in mind?”
Gabe hooked an arm around Beck’s neck, pulling him away from me. “All we do is get him drunk enough to get that tattoo he wanted. When Victoria sees the two-foot geometric wolf across his chest, she’ll kill him herself.”
Beck’s head fell back in laughter. The sight would have made me smile had it been under any other circumstance. I couldn’t help but wonder how he could laugh at a time like this.
But then I knew. He was Beckett freaking Atteridge. What did he have to worry about? If he lost this job, he’d have another one lined up within the hour. Hell, his dad had already offered him one. He had nothing to worry about.
Me, on the other hand . . .
I pictured those trash bags in my mom’s van so many years ago. The Whopper someone had given us after hours of panhandling in the sun. The three of us splitting it. And how hollow my stomach felt after.
Honed in on that picture, I didn’t see the stone jutting out of the pathway. My flip-flop caught on it, and the strap sprang free from the bottom, sending me sprawling forward. I reached out, trying to catch myself on the Welcome to Tranquility sign, but I missed, my arm scraping down its metal edge.
My palms and knees hit the pathway with a jarring thud.
“Are you okay?” Beck asked, rushing over.
“Yes, I’m—”
I sat back, pulling at my broken flip-flop to examine my failed hair-tie hack. But a burning sensation lit from elbow to wrist. I turned my arm over to reveal not a cut but a gash. Blood welled and then dripped onto the rocky path.
Beck’s eyes widened. He grabbed my wrist, gingerly turning my arm over to get a better look, then sucked air through his teeth.
“Shit!” Gabe said. “That’s going to need stitches.”
Beck’s eyes cut to mine. “He’s right. This looks bad.”
“Is everything okay?” Sebastian was coming down the pathway toward us.
“She needs a doctor,” Beck said. “Where’s Nick?”
“Still in bed. I’ll go wake him,” he called with a sidestep toward their yurt.
