New Message: Ava Linden:

Where are you?

New Message: Ava Linden:

He's closing the doors in like 3 min.

New Message: Ollie Mulligan:

Where the hell are you?

New Message: Ollie Mulligan:

?????

New Message: Ava Linden:

The test was horrible. I think I failed. Hope everything is okay :(

New Message: Hallie Reynolds

Please come out of there. I love you. You shouldn't cry alone.

New Message: Ava Linden:

Are you missing every final? Are you dropping out? No retakes... remember?

New Message: Thomas (TJ) Jones:

I know you don't want to hear it, but I'm thinking of you today.

New Message: Ollie Mulligan:

Answer your damn phone. You're scaring the hell out of me. I had to fail you!

New Message: Hallie Reynolds:

Wanna watch Pretty Woman and drink wine with me?

New Message: Ollie Mulligan:

I'm coming over.

With my stomach in knots, I swiped each message off of the screen. Everyone I knew had been worried about me and sending messages, but my phone had died the night before. My head was too preoccupied to think to charge it. Then, with the sudden drive to the farm, it was left in my room back at the duplex. That night seemed like a lifetime ago; not a day. As I opened the door to Mulligan's, the phone vibrated once more with another text.

New Message: Ava Linden:

We're going out tonight to celebrate the end of the semester. Want to come?

Hard pass.

Tonight's schedule included a shift I'd been dreading ever since coming home with Ollie. After our very brief conversation in the barn, Ollie became the quiet, brooding type. Just when I'd thought I had seen all of his personalities; this one was new. The man didn't want to argue. He didn't want to yell; he didn't want to cry anymore. Ollie turned himself off completely. By doing this, that apparently meant ignoring me the entire way home—making even Hallie feel awkward for being in the vehicle. Hallie, of course, knew nothing of what had been said in the barn, and when she attempted to start any sort of conversation, Ollie would turn up the radio volume to end it. Hope he had sent a text since dropping me off at home was now diminished. Hopefully, tonight would be back to normal.

The restaurant already appeared busier than usual as I made my way to the kitchen. I sent off a text to Ava, passing on tonight's end of semester celebration. Partying over the tanking of my grades didn't sound like a good time. I was dreading the email of my non-existent scores.

"He's in a mood!" Mikah called out to me just before I pushed through the swinging door of the kitchen. A vodka bottle was being held high in the air, upside down, with a stream of clear liquid pouring into a mixed drink. "You've been warned."

I sighed, wondering just how bad this mood could be. Curiosity was answered with Ollie's heated tone booming from inside the kitchen. It was heard over the sound of the patrons in the restaurant and the music meant to accompany their dining experience. I'd witnessed him get testy in the kitchen before, but this seemed more like irate. Then there was a clatter that sounded like a metal pan being slammed into the countertop. More shouting followed.

"Told you," Mikah said with an eye roll.

I pushed my way into the kitchen, immediately swarmed by the tension between the staff. People moved frantically, panicked. The servers couldn't get themselves and their trays out of the room fast enough, nearly taking me out. I ducked, pivoted, and squeezed my way through to the opposite side of the room to get at the time clock and my jacket.

"You're late!" Ollie said, scolding me.

"No." I pointed to the clock, seeing I still had three minutes to spare. "I'm not."

"Close enough. You're on the hollandaise tonight."

"But I've never made..." By the time I'd turned around, he was gone into the abyss of kitchen staff, finding his next victim. That was Todd, who currently had a bulging vein on his forehead from the amount of stress he was carrying tonight.

The whiteboard showed tonight's special as filet mignon topped with a dill butter, and garlic asparagus with a hollandaise drizzle. This was new. Not only was Ollie in a mood from hell, but he threw a new menu item at us on a busy Sunday.

Great.

After tossing my purse into a locker and donning my jacket, I was hunting for Ollie once more. Probably not the smartest move, but I did not know what I was doing with making hollandaise. I could have Googled the recipe, but knew Ollie would find something wrong with it. As far as I knew, the recipe was pretty basic.

I tapped Ollie's back. When he turned, I was taken aback by the stern expression. Maybe more so by the dark circles under his eyes. Had he slept at all since coming home?

"What do you need?"

"I've never made this," I said, muttering while feeling two inches tall.

"Fuck." He moved past me to grab a pan from above the prep station. He slammed it on a burner, causing me to jump.

"Calm down." I clutched his arm. We locked glances like we'd done a million times in this room. This time, it didn't feel the same. He wasn't undressing me with a single look. This one told me not to touch him. I let go. "You're tired. You're pissed. I get it. You had a rough day yesterday..."

"You know nothing about me!" he yelled, with sapphire blues growing darker by the second.

My eyes stung. We were being watched by everyone in the room. The surrounding silence was deafening. This was harder now. At school, he was nothing more than a prick teacher I slept with. I knew more about him than anyone in this room and couldn't even throw that into his face. This was all a result of yesterday and me knowing something he planned to never share with anyone.

"I know if you don't calm the fuck down, I'm going to walk out of this kitchen in tears. Teach me your goddamn recipe so I don't have to talk to you again tonight. Which is obviously your goal."

Ollie was breathing heavily through flared nostrils. He had a choice to make right now, and he was deciding in his head if the attitude was worth the risk of me walking out of Mulligan's. I understood the not wanting to be pitied, but this was him trying to push me away. Everything he wanted to say to me right now, and vice versa, couldn't be said in front of the staff.

"Melt butter." His chest rose and fell. "Do not boil it. A half-cup to every three egg yolks. Whisk eggs, splash of vinegar. Add the butter and whisk again until your volume doubles. Add salt and cayenne to taste. My taste. Not yours. We don't need half the restaurant choking down pure sodium. Can you manage that for now?"

I didn't answer. I put myself to work and hoped the shift would end without me becoming a crying mess.

>>

I worked tirelessly beside Ollie all evening. The new menu item combined with the busy night had everyone in a tizzy. I'd messed up the first batch of hollandaise. Adding the hot butter into the eggs seemed to turn it into some runny version of scrambled eggs. That mistake was not made the second time. Not to mention, I was assisting with all the other menu items that were going out to the floor. Steadily, Ollie seemed to calm down, focusing on his work instead of belittling his entire staff to where they wanted to walk out on him. I couldn't help but to count the number of times I'd caught him yawning. Sixteen times in an hour seemed excessive.

"Ollie, you're exhausted." I finally turned and crossed my arms when he yawned a seventeenth time.

"I'm not," he somberly told the asparagus he was plating.

"You are. Have you slept at all?"

When he didn't answer, I was convinced. He'd been sleeping poorly before the farm, but he hadn't had a wink of sleep since. Mikah seemed to be right—Ollie wasn't ready to be pushed into that barn. Or was he having an increase in nightmares? I couldn't ask, because he was in no mood to answer. It wasn't the time or the place. That time would have been yesterday on the way home, but we had to hear Willie Nelson's greatest hits, on repeat, for three hours.

"Why the hell is there no band?" The kitchen door swung open so hard that it hit the dishwasher behind it. Mikah stormed through, nearly knocking a server over. He rarely came into the room, let alone allowed anyone to see just how rocky his relationship was with Ollie. "It's Sunday night!"

"I canceled them." Ollie tossed the last plate of the night beneath the warmer. "Customers have been complaining."

"The fuck they have, Oliver! You haven't liked the bands since we started them! This place needs money!"

Ollie turned, looking more awake than he had all night. "It's a restaurant!" His voice boomed so loud that all movement stopped. "People come here to eat! If you let me change the menu, we wouldn't need the bands. You wouldn't know, though, because you avoided the place until your girlfriend wanted you here. Because Shelby needed a reason to still be near this goddamn kitchen like a lost puppy!"

Mikah was moving directly towards Ollie with a fist ready for impact. Horror-struck, I wasn't the only one to gasp with a hand clapping over my mouth. Todd was quick enough to get behind Mikah and get his hands between Mikah's arms and torso to drag him backwards. Once Todd had control, he held him back by one arm and his shirt, reminding him to cool down. It was like the entire kitchen had been ready for this moment to play out.

"Your jealousy is showing, Ollie!" Mikah tried to push off of Todd without success. "You're pissed that I put the ring on her finger first! I was the first choice! You finally didn't get what you wanted!"

Ollie's head was shaking wildly, and I was already grasping his arm and pleading with him to not bring up Christmas Eve. "She wasn't even going to say yes, Mikah! She left your room after you asked!" Ollie growled, moving his arm out of my hold. "Ask me how I know! I dare you!"

I wasn't sure which was worse—seeing Ollie break down yesterday, thinking that he killed his dad, or watching Mikah's heart break into a million pieces right before everyone's eyes. A moment ago, he was ready to sock Ollie in the face over a band, but now he had no words left for his brother. Just a shaking head, glossy eyes, and a turned back as he stormed out of the kitchen. If I saw how defeated Mikah was, Ollie saw it, too. The man beside me sank his shoulders, realizing what he'd done. It was exactly what he worried about. He didn't want to be the one to tell Mikah. With a single swing of his arm, Ollie tossed the plate he'd just prepared to the floor, sending someone's filet mignon along with it. The glass plate burst into pieces on impact, littering the floor.

The room scrambled to return to work, acting like the blowout between the two brothers hadn't just happened. Unsure if it was a good idea or not, I placed a hand on Ollie's back to soothe him. He exhaled with the touch, even while still tense.

"Shit," he whispered, clutching his hair. "Sloan, I didn't mean to..."

"I know that's not how you wanted to tell him," I said, rubbing his back and not caring who saw.

His face fell into his hands, and he rubbed at his exhausted eyes. Knowing we were down one plate, leaving someone without a meal, I took a step back to begin another. A scream erupted from my throat. The glass. Pain surged from my foot and up the back of my leg, making my knees shake and buckle.

"Sloan!" Panic-stricken, Ollie pivoted and caught my arm just as I reached out to balance on one foot.

I pressed my eyes shut, feeling waves of spasms spark from the open wound. "How big is it?" I asked, not wanting to know. It felt huge. It felt like at least a half-inch was imbedded into the heel. This was the wrong night to wear cheap shoes.

Ollie carefully took the injured foot into his hand and gave it the slightest turn. The heavy release of air through his nostrils clarified it was a hefty chunk of the plate. It had to be. It had gone straight through the sole of the shoe. The sock within it was already squishy, feeling saturated with blood. Keeping my balance up so I'd stay on the one good foot, Ollie pressed his lips to my temple.

"I'm going to have to take you to an emergency room. No way you can drive home with it like this, and I can't remove it. This is my fault."

"It's not, but it kinda is." I cringed and giggled through it, trying not to add to his stress. He didn't need to be blaming himself. "But it's also mine. I knew there was glass everywhere. I just didn't think it was sticking straight up."

That didn't seem to ease his conscience any. The man was defeated. I held on to him tightly, reassuring him I would be fine, even though the sight of blood and hollandaise all over the floor was making me woozy. The kitchen staff was already on it, cleaning up the mess. Ollie lifted me onto the counter and found a bag to wrap around the shoe to prevent any further spillage of bodily fluids. After the staff assured him they could manage it, Ollie carried me bridal style while a server opened the door to the bar for him.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered again before pressing his lips to my jaw.

"I'm okay. Promise."

I wanted to take that sentence back the second we entered the bar.

I saw Mikah pause the making of a mixed drink from the corner of my eye, hearing him question what had happened. Neither of us answered, because we were currently in a stare-off with the last thing we needed tonight. I could feel Ollie's heart race, and mine was now keeping pace. We were in huge trouble.

"Guess you don't need to worry about missing those finals." Ava's eyes rolled before she disappeared into the crowd.

"Ollie." I gulped.

"I know."

>>

It took two hours in an emergency room waiting area, another hour in a room, a hefty amount of painkillers, shit coffee, and six stitches before Ollie and I could leave. Ollie could barely keep his head up for a majority. His exhaustion was catching up with him. Crutches were now a thing I had to deal with for the next week or two, depending on how the wound healed. It wasn't until Ollie was helping me out of the car that I felt the lidocaine wearing off. The dull ache was returning... meaning it was going to be a long night. Pain meds weren't due again for another few hours.

The lights of the duplex were all off. Hallie had left a note this morning that she was planning to work a long shift to make up for missing work on Friday. It was for the best that she was gone, anyway. She'd work herself into a frenzy over this injury, no matter what time of day it was. And currently, it was two in the morning.

It took Ollie multiple attempts to find the house keys buried in my purse before I told him of the spare key beneath our welcome mat. The door was unlocked and opened to an eerily quiet home. I could turn on the light, but the thought of going up the stairs with crutches didn't seem as doable. I could barely get the full groan out before Ollie was taking the crutches out from beneath me. I grabbed his broad shoulders to steady myself.

Soon I was in the air, wrapping myself around Ollie with my front to his. He made me feel like a feather as he held me with one hand and the crutches both in his opposite. It reminded me of the first time we'd gone up the stairs at Mulligan's, and how we had avoided kissing at all costs. This time, he pecked his lips against mine.

"What are we going to do about Ava?"

With little enthusiasm, his head shook no. "I don't know, and I'm not interested in overthinking that tonight."

"Okay. What about Mikah?"

"Or that," he muttered, finally making the landing of the second floor.

With his hands full, Ollie allowed me to open the bedroom door. I was dropped to my one good foot upon entry, where I retook the crutches. I'd never used them before and already despised them. The hallways at school would be a challenge. Not as big of a challenge as Ava, who had ignored every text I'd sent while in the waiting room of the hospital. First thing tomorrow, I needed to talk to her privately. One mention of what she saw tonight could land both Ollie and me in hot water. I was sure she hadn't seen Ollie kiss my jaw, but it also didn't look good that he was carrying me. No one knew I worked for Ollie, let alone was sleeping with him.

Not caring I was still dressed, I dropped onto the bed and threw the crutches to the floor. I was told to keep the foot elevated. Ollie was on top of it, lifting the foot and shoving a stack of clean laundry beneath it. My eyes were already fluttering closed, because of a lot of codeine, but Ollie removing his shirt was enough to jolt me upright.

"What are you doing?" The panicked tone was not hidden. I was definitely panicking.

"Unlike you, I can't sleep in my clothes."

"No." I lifted a hand to halt him. "You can't sleep here."

His brows lifted high on his head. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Sloan!"

"Ollie, I mean it."

There was no way he was getting into this bed with me—Steve's bed. Hallie was one thing. The man I was sleeping with less than a year after losing my husband was not an option. That was an insult to Steve's memory; I wasn't ready for it and likely never would be.

"I haven't slept in days," he argued. "A lot of that is because of you. It's two in the morning, an hour back to the city, and you have no way to get to class tomorrow without me. It's one night."

"Then take the goddamn couch!" I motioned to the hallway that led to the stairs. "You have been an asshole to everyone all day. Your moods are tiring. Don't be salty about this. I'm not ready for his bed! Take the couch."

"It's just a bed, Sloan!" Ollie yelled so loud I was sure the neighbors in the other duplex could hear. "It's an object!"

The knot in my throat was accompanied by blurred vision. It was not just a bed. Ollie stood above me, waiting for me to cave in a moment of weakness that would not happen. This bed was off limits. If my foot wasn't currently bandaged, it would be down.

With a shaking head, Ollie grabbed his shirt and stormed out of the room. I couldn't grab the stupid crutches fast enough. When I got them beneath me, they were catching on all the clothes littering the floor of the bedroom. I gave them a toss, hobbling my way to the hall. By the time I got to the stairs, he was throwing open the front door.

"Ollie! Don't go. You're too tired!"

He stopped, peering up the stairs at me as I gripped the railing. "You're right. I am tired. You're not ready for whatever this is, and you tried to tell me that repeatedly. You just said it again. I didn't listen last time, and now I am. I stupidly thought I was ready for this, too. Mikah was hard enough to compete with. Steve doesn't even give me a fighting chance, and I don't have it in me to try. I'm tired."

And with that, the door slammed behind him.