Into the Fading Twilight (Starlight Grove, #2) (9)

Brae only stared back at me.

The blank stare hurt, too. More evidence of the distance between us.

Shoving open the SUV’s door, I stepped into the sunlight. It still felt decently warm for late in September, but there was the slightest bite to the air that hadn’t been there even a week ago. “Come on, these tips aren’t going to earn themselves.”

Brae hurried out of the vehicle. “You know I can cover you.”

I hated the annoyance that flickered deep. Brae couldn’t cover me. But Dex could. And that somehow made it worse, that this person who barely knew me had been paying my way. Pity money.

Heap it onto the pity job his eldest brother, Wylder, was giving me, and I owed the Archer brothers big-time. The family might’ve had a reputation around town, but they were all generous to a fault. One more generous than all the rest. The one who had given me hope when all of mine had vanished.

I turned to face my best friend, trying like hell to make her see. “I want to work. I’m ready. And if I have to sit in that house one more day twiddling my thumbs, I’m going to lose it.”

“You don’t sit in the house. You disappear and don’t tell anyone where you’re going.”

There was an edge to Brae’s words that hadn’t been there since my return. But I understood. My disappearing acts had to be triggering. But sometimes, I needed to breathe. And I couldn’t do that at the cabin, surrounded by people who were constantly wondering if I was okay.

She reeled in her reaction. “I’m sorry. I—”

“Don’t apologize,” I said quickly. “I get it.”

But I didn’t tell her that I wouldn’t do it again. Because I knew I would. It was the only thing holding me together at the moment. Instead, I headed toward the back door with a Staff Only sign above it.

As I walked, I tugged on the sleeves of my blouse, making sure they covered my wrists—skin littered with scars. Marks left behind from shackles. At least, that’s what the doctor had told me.

They ringed my wrists and ankles, evidence of what had happened to me. Proof that it hadn’t been a nightmare. But it was just one more reason for people to wonder if I was okay. So I hid them the best I could.

My fingers closed around the door handle, and I pulled hard. My biceps struggled with the effort, but the door gave way, and I stepped inside, holding it for Brae. Her face was a careful mask now, but I did my best to ignore it. Instead, I followed her down the dimly lit hall, passing a stockroom, an office, and two bathrooms before stepping into the bar and grill’s main room.

I wasn’t sure if Wylder had had a hand in the décor or if he’d inherited the place as it was, but if he had been a part of it, he had a gift. The large space had booths lining three walls and tables in the middle, all of which were made from dark, warm wood similar to that on the outside of the building.

The walls were dotted with local signs and posters on two sides, most of which had a vintage feel to them. Another wall was covered in license plates from all over the country. I even saw Hawaii represented. And finally, there was the bar. It was a stop-you-in-your-tracks piece of woodworking, a true art form, made all the more striking by the beautiful array of bottles lining the shelves behind it.

Music filtered out through the speakers and into the mostly empty space, a blend of country and rock that fit the patrons I assumed would be there. It was my first time inside, so I couldn’t be completely sure, but it fit with the locals I was starting to get to know.

“Nova.” A deep voice greeted me.

I turned to see the eldest Archer brother striding across the space. Wylder didn’t exactly fit his name. There was a quiet steadiness to him. He certainly wasn’t shy, but he also didn’t speak unless he had something he truly considered worth saying.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention. I’d learned over dozens of family dinners, movie nights, and other occasions that Wylder’s brain worked faster than the rest of ours. It made connections many of us missed. I’d be sitting around a dinner table with him not saying a word, and then he’d come out of left field with a zinger that said he’d been following the whole convo.

I grinned at him as he approached. “Hi. Thanks for hiring me.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me,” he grumbled as he ran a hand through his rumpled, dark hair.

My lips twitched. “I like to thank people for the nice things they do.”

“I needed another waitress,” Wylder argued.

“It’s still nice that you let me be that waitress,” I shot back.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled.

My brow arched. “Not one for thank-yous?”

A hand slapped down on Wylder’s shoulder as a man in his mid-thirties appeared at his side. “Hates thank-yous and praise of any sort. But I’m going to thank him anyway.” The man turned to Wylder. “Thank you for hiring this absolute bombshell of a babe, boss. Especially since Brae got engaged to your brother and broke my damn heart.”

“Aidan …” Wylder warned.

But I couldn’t help but laugh.

“At least you’re still hot and single.” Aidan’s blue-green eyes danced as he winked at Wylder and then turned to me. “Nova, I’m Aidan. Let me be your guide to the Boot. I will set you on the path to big tips with as little work as possible.”