Torn - Part Three (The Torn Series) Read Free Page B

imagining that I would cook with it some evening. A glass to calm my nerves, then I could get ready and go to work and push Mallet and his bookshelf out of my thoughts until I was actually ready to face them.
     
    The bookshelf, the message, the drink - none of them were helping in my quest to get over him. I hadn’t made a single step in the right direction. Not one.
     
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    "Riley." He didn't give me the option of waiting until I was ready. He showed up at the bar right after my shift started, his usually bright green eyes dark and tired. He had a nasty bruise on his cheekbone - my first thought was good , but I immediately felt guilty about it.
     
    "Mallet," I said, nodding at him before turning to a customer at the opposite end of the bar. We weren't busy and I wouldn't be able to avoid him for long. My stomach churned as I made the businessman his drink, wishing I could make one for myself, too. Not while the owner was in his office - I would have to wait until he went home.
     
    Finally, when I couldn't stand to ignore him for any longer, I poured him a beer and slid it his way.
     
    "The package arrived okay?" he asked.
     
    I nodded, fighting tears again. Damn his stupid thoughtful gift. Damn him for showing up at my job. Damn his face.
     
    "We have to talk. Maybe when you go on break?"
     
    "I can't until eight," I said, clenching my fists. God, it was good to hear his voice. Why did I have to be so damn weak?
     
    "I can wait."
     
    Again, I only nodded, unable to bury the emotions that emerged. All he had to do was stay away. I would have been fine, eventually. Now I needed to know things. If he'd won his big match against his brother. If that bruise on his face was from that fight or from another. If he'd managed to patch things up with Surly. I wanted to know everything that I'd missed.
     
    I went through the motions of my job and watched the clock tick on. It was too slow and too fast all at once. I was overly conscious of Mallet's presence, though I tried to ignore him. He tapped around on his phone, struck up short conversations with other patrons, but mostly he just watched me with an unreadable expression. And he absently touched the bruise on his face. It couldn't have been from the fight with his brother - that would have taken place over two weeks ago, unless they'd rescheduled. I itched to ask him but I didn't want to admit that I cared.
     
    The second bartender showed up right on time. My stomach churned as I waited for him to drop off his things in the back and let me leave my post for a quick lunch break. I didn't say anything to Mallet - I just walked past him towards the door and listened to him follow.
     
    "Hungry?" he asked as the door swung shut behind him.
     
    I was too anxious to be hungry. The night air was cold, though, and I didn't want to stand around outside, so I said "Sure," and pointed us towards the little pizza shop across the street. At least they had heat and some empty seats.
     
    We ordered a couple slices and slid into a booth. I was too nervous to even meet his eyes, never mind start the conversation, so I rearranged my pepperoni while he watched. I knew I ought to thank him for the piece of furniture but everything I thought to say sounded lame in my head. And thanking him means I've accepted it, maybe I shouldn't even keep it.
     
    "I heard you quit the band," he said, finally.
     
    "Yeah."
     
    "I'm sorry it came to that. I know you loved being onstage with them."
     
    I shrugged. "I guess." I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. It was like he was trying to read my mind.
     
    "What are you thinking?" he asked.
     
    I stared down at my deconstructed pizza. "I don't know if I can keep the bookshelf."
     
    "You don't like it?"
     
    "It's beautiful," I whispered. "But after everything..."
     
    "Riley. Look at me." I obeyed as if compelled by some outside force. I met his familiar green eyes and was hit with a pang of longing for what we'd