Page 78 of A Barista's Guide to Love & Larceny
“Don’t.” Dani squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “Wyatt. Do this for me. Please.”
When she opened her eyes again, his lips were scrunched to one side, considering. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. But if he interferes somehow—”
“He doesn’t even know what’s going on. Hedoesn’t know,” she repeated at his clear skepticism. “He’s already gone, Wyatt.” Each word was like a paper cut to her soul. “What more can you want from me?”
A moment, then he shrugged. “Okay,” he said. “I won’t tell.”
She didn’t have it in her to thank him. He didn’t deserve it, anyway. “Please go,” she said. “I can’t—please, just go.”
Wyatt reached out to touch her again, but she jerked away, unableto meet his eyes. He made an awkward patting motion in midair, opened his mouth as if to say something, but instead turned and headed in the opposite direction. Dani stood alone on the sidewalk, the rain plastering her clothes to her shivering body, her heart well and truly broken.
Twenty-Eight
Dani slept for the entire weekend. She went against her personal code and called out of her Friday night shift, the first time she’d ever done so at Quarter Cast—or rather, McKenna did it for her. Thank the gods she was at least being paid for her treason against Kass, so she could afford to miss a shift. Or two. Her best friend also found coverage for Saturday night so Dani could lie comatose in peace.
There was no peace to be found, of course—only the exquisite agony of knowing that things between her and Kass had ended in the worst possible way: with him thinking she’d only dated him to gain some kind of proximity to his father. That she’d used him. She didn’t eat, didn’t study, and barely acknowledged McKenna, who whispered updates to her from the bottom of her ladder: Oliver, who’d tried to visit, now had a functional third charm, but they were worried it wouldn’t last, so McKenna was wildcrafting plants in the forest for new decoctions and infusions. The graft Oliver had been working on had finally proven successful, and they were both hopeful.
Dani registered these reports as good news, but it wasn’t until dinnertime on Sunday that she finally found the necessary energy to slither out of bed, and it was only because she didn’t have someone to cover her shift this time. She didn’t want to find out what happened when she called out twice in one week.
As soon as she got home, though, she was right back under the covers, rising only for classes the next day. She couldn’t muster the motivation to attend the Monday meeting with Silva and the crew,and let McKenna make an excuse about her being laid up with the flu. Later, McKenna reported softly to her that she hadn’t missed much, just a review of the week’s tasks, and the only one relevant to Dani was the appointment to be fitted for their gala gowns on Saturday.
“Babe,” McKenna said, standing on the ladder to Dani’s bed, “you need to eat. Can I bring you something from the dining hall?”
Dani just rolled away from her.
Life went on in much the same vein for several days: class, work, languishing in bed, eating cheese and crackers when McKenna force-fed them to her. Thanksgiving was coming up, but the university paid the holiday little due other than giving students Thursday off classes, so it barely registered as a blip on Dani’s radar. She’d run out of tears by Monday, but she certainly hadn’t gained anything back in terms of willpower. There had been neither sight nor sound of Kass, of course—at Quarter Cast, on campus, or in her inbox. She didn’t expect there to be.
She didn’t deserve there to be.
On Wednesday night, her evening off work for the week, there was a knock on the door, which McKenna answered.
“Hold on,” she heard her best friend say in a hushed tone. “I’ll ask her.”
The ladder creaked as McKenna climbed a few rungs.
“Dani,” she said, “someone’s here to see you.”
Curiosity got the better of her—and maybe some false hope, too—so Dani sat up as the door opened to admit Katya, carrying a plate wrapped in foil.
“I heard you weren’t feeling well,” the girl said stiltedly. She clearly wasn’t well-versed in expressing sympathy. “I brought you some cookies.”
Something about her sincere attempt at a thing that clearly brought her discomfort moved Dani, both emotionally and physically; sheclimbed down the ladder and invited Katya into her hovel underneath the lofted bed. She watched Katya as she set down her plate, unwrapped it, and handed her a cookie filled with jam and dusted with powdered sugar.
“What?” Katya asked as Dani stared at the proffered treat. “I like to bake. It destresses me.”
“No, I think it’s nice,” Dani said. “It’s very analog of you. Thanks.” Unexpectedly, her stomach rumbled, so she accepted the cookie and took a bite.
“You’re not really sick, are you,” Katya said after Dani had finished it and was helping herself to a second.
Dani paused mid-chew. She glanced over at McKenna, who was allegedly reading on her bed, not looking at them.
“No,” she said finally. “No, I’m—I just went through a breakup.”
“Ah,” Katya said. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. It does. Thanks.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t want it to happen?”
