Page 34 of Ruck Me Harder

“Is that offer for coffee still on the table?”

“Yes,” I say immediately.

Her eyes dart to mine, then away.

“Yes, coffee,” I repeat dumbly. “Um, my shift⁠—”

I still have two and a half hours on the clock.

“Oh. Right.” Vivienne shakes her head. “It doesn’t have to be now, I guess. It can be… whenever.”

“Now’s good.” Susan’s voice behind me makes me jump. “Tony, get out of here. I can handle the rest of the day.”

“Are you sure?” My voice cracks.

My boss nods. “I’m good. Go ahead and clock out.”

I give Vivienne a small smile. “Give me two minutes?”

She nods, turning to study the wall of photos—successful adoptions. Whenever I’m in a bad mood, I look at that wall of pictures.

Following Susan into the backroom, I glare at my meddling boss. “What’s that about?”

“You need this,” she says, squeezing my shoulder. “Leave Shadow here. You go out with that pretty little thing and take a load off.”

My eyebrows go up. “Excuse me?”

“You’re going to burn out,” she says, same as she did a few hours ago. “You need a break. Seems like she’ll be good for you.”

“It’s just coffee,” I mutter as I swipe my employee badge at the scanner to clock out.

Oh shit. I pull up short.

Coffee.

With Vivienne.

While I’m wearing sweaty, animal hair-covered clothes.

Ducking into the employee bathroom, I quickly wash my hands and face. My hoodie smells a bit ripe and is covered in cat hair, so I swap it for a mostly clean zip-up with the shelter logo from my locker. It’s not like I keep an entire wardrobe here.

I stare at myself in the mirror. Exacerbated by the shitty lighting, I can see the exhaustion on my face. I only have a few hours before I have to head to the steakhouse for another grueling night of serving overpriced food to the privileged elite.

My phone is burning a hole in my pocket, and I pull it out to stare at the photo again. She may have gone out with Al last night, but today, she’s reaching out to me. I have to see this through.

Vivienne is waiting in the lobby, and as I approach, shrugging on my leather jacket, she looks me up and down. Something bright shines in her eyes. Is it appreciation? I certainly hope so.

“There’s a coffee shop down the block,” I say casually. “Does that work?”

She nods. “Lead the way.”

I set a light hand on her lower back on reflex as I escort her outside. She doesn’t flinch away, so I take it as a sign that maybe she doesn’t hate me quite so much as she used to. I don’t know what I did to change that, but I’ll take it.

I’ll take anything she gives me.

Inside the coffee shop, we wait silently in line, but the silence isn’t oppressive. She orders a black coffee and pays before I can get to the card reader, then waits at the end of the bar as I order myself a green tea. We receive our drinks and make our way to a small table in the corner.

“So…” I stare at her from across the table. “You wanted to talk?”