Page 38 of Blades Out
"I heard. Everyone's been talking about it." She wiped down the counter between us, movements less hurried now. "First time working during a game. I'm a little nervous."
"It gets chaotic." I wrapped both hands around the cup, anchoring myself. "Loud. Crowded. Don't let anyone rush you."
She nodded, glancing up at me properly this time. "I'll try to remember that when I'm drowning in orders."
The corner of my mouth twitched. Almost smiled before I caught it.
"You always take it black?" She gestured toward my coffee, curiosity replacing the fear that had been there moments ago. "No sugar or anything?"
"Always."
"That's very..." She paused, searching for the word. "Straightforward."
"I like things simple."
"I noticed." Her lips curved slightly—teasing, gentle. Nothing mocking about it.
Something warm unfurled in my chest. Unwelcome. Dangerous.
I shifted my weight, searching for something else to say that wouldn't send her retreating back behind that professional mask.
"You settling in okay?" The question came out rougher than intended. "With the job, I mean."
"I think so." She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Still learning where everything is. And Jenna's been patient, even when I mess up."
"You're doing fine."
Her eyes widened slightly, like the compliment surprised her.
When was the last time someone told her she was doing well?
The thought sat heavy and bitter on my tongue.
"Thank you." Softer now. Sincere. "That—actually helps."
Silence stretched between us, but different from before. Less suffocating. Almost comfortable.
This is dangerous.
The realization hit sharp and clear. Because I didn't hate this. Didn't hate the way her guard lowered when I kept my voice steady and calm. Didn't hate the glimpses of who she might be underneath all that fear and exhaustion.
I should walk away. Should take my coffee and leave before this became something neither of us could take back.
Instead, I stood there like an idiot, searching for another safe topic just to hear her voice again.
You're in trouble.
The words are you okay climbed halfway up my throat before I choked them back down. Because I had no right to ask.
She glanced toward the door again. Third time in as many minutes. Quick, nervous movements that sent her ponytail swinging against her shoulders.
Something tightened in my gut.
Her fingers found the hem of her sleeve, twisting the fabric between her thumb and forefinger. Restless energy that didn't match the careful stillness she tried to project everywhere else.
"I should probably—" She gestured vaguely toward the espresso machine. "Get back to work. Before the morning rush hits."
The smile she offered flickered like a candle in the wind. There and gone. Fragile.
