The lock had been turned twice, and Lainey had checked it a third time anyway.
Stubborn isn't weak, she thought. It sounded like a lie she was practicing.
At 12:20 headlights dragged across the gravel, and her heart did that stupid thing again.
Lainey: Not again.
Axton: Open up. I brought coffee, not paperwork.
He held up both cups like a peace offering from a man who didn't own one.
She unlocked the door. Her hands were steady, which felt like a small fucking victory.
Lainey: You could have left it on the step.
Axton: Step back and I'll take it with me.
He set the cup down and did not step back. Neither did she.
He was too close. Close enough that she smelled cold air and coffee and something warm underneath it, like skin.
Her pulse jumped, hard and wrong, like her own body had turned on her.
Something moved behind his eyes, and his jaw tightened like he was holding a door shut.
Axton: Your heart's going crazy.
Lainey: You're standing in my face.
For one second he leaned in, and she did not move away. She wanted, and she had no fucking name for what.
Then his whole body went stiff, like he'd put his hand on a hot stove.
Axton: Drink it before it gets cold.
Axton: And don't look at me like that. I'm not one of your problems.
He was out the door and into the dark before she could say a single fucking word.
She stood there with her heart slamming and her face hot, hating him and hating herself more.
At one in the morning, a woman with curly red hair and a canvas apron banged on the glass.
Clover: Hi. I'm Clover. I'm the new night help. Nobody told you, did they.
Clover: Bastards. They said eight. It's one in the goddamn morning.
She laughed at her own bad timing and shoved the warm bag across the counter.
Clover: I brought too much dinner. Sit. You look like you haven't eaten since Tuesday.
Lainey: It's Wednesday.
Clover: Then you're ahead of schedule.
The fries were hot and too salty, and Lainey ate them like she was getting away with something.
It was the first food in weeks that didn't come with a bill or a lecture attached.
Clover: So the owner's a scary bastard with a nice truck, huh. He came by earlier, didn't he.
Lainey: How do you know that?
Clover: I know the truck. Everybody does.
Clover: Look. If your mother or that ex of yours shows up, you call me. I'm not scared of either of them.
Lainey opened her mouth to say she was fine, and the lie stuck in her throat.
Her phone buzzed against the counter. Rent, Friday. She didn't have to read it to know.
Clover: Hey. Eat first. The rest can wait till morning.
She ate. She drank the coffee a man who couldn't stand to look at her had brought.
For one hour the lot felt less like a trap, and she let herself want it, which was probably the most dangerous thing she'd done all night.