Recovery by Nicole Dykes (best time to read books .txt) 📗

liking that I’ve already said more than I intend. “Just out. I’m going down to the bar.”

“You should eat.” It’s matter-of-fact and annoying.

“Why the hell do you all care? You don’t even know me.”

“We would know you if you would calm the fuck down and just talk to us. Tell us more than your name and that you crave coffee.”

I stare at him, annoyed and frustrated. That’s not an option. I don’t want to know them. “No.”

He just stares me down, unafraid to piss me off, which is infuriating. “No? Just no.”

“Yes. No.”

He grins playfully and picks up the plate, poking the pieces of scrambled eggs with his fork and bringing it to his full lips. “Last chance?”

My stomach grumbles at the sight, but pride is one thing I have an abundance of. “Go for it.”

He opens his mouth and takes a bite of the eggs, moaning exaggeratedly, and my stomach flutters at the strong male sound, which is primal and sexy like he wants so much more than eggs. He’s too good-looking. Too sexy. Too everything. I bail as quickly as I can, making my way to the door and jerking it open, going down the stairs and into the tattoo parlor.

Logan is the first person I see. “Hey. You okay?”

No. That man up there is all sorts of temptation. And that is the last thing I need.

“I’m fine. Is the only way into the bar from outside?”

I’m not sure he believes I'm fine, but luckily he guides me to the back room, I think it must be where they relax if they get a break, but the shop is already full this morning. “This is the employee entrance.”

He pushes open a door leading into the kitchen of the bar. “Thanks.”

He nods. “Tommy’s in there already.”

I walk through a swinging door and look around at the bar. It’s small. A hole-in-the-wall really, but I like it. It has a certain charm to it. Wooden booths and a few tables. A wooden bar with whiskey posters surrounding it. And a stage.

A beautiful, small stage with a single microphone up front. I swallow the pain burning up from my belly. The ache I have to stand on that stage and belt out musical notes, to get lost for a moment in the light and music, is too great.

“You sing?”

I look over at Tommy who’s standing behind the bar.

“No.”

His brow furrows, and I know he doesn’t believe me. But I don’t care. I’m not here to get to know anyone.

He shows me the ropes, tells me the basic schedule. It’s nothing out of the ordinary. I wasn’t lying when I said I have waitressing experience. My first fake ID wasn’t to buy alcohol, it was to get a job as a waitress when I was thirteen. They knew I wasn’t sixteen yet, but they paid under the table, and it worked out for us both. Seedy and shady, that’s my life.

They don’t open until eleven, and Tommy tells me I’ll be on the night shift with him for the rest of the week. However today, we’re both taking the easier day shift.

I thank him, and before we open, he cooks us both hamburgers and delicious greasy fries I can’t say no to.

We sit in the booth and eat in silence. I feel oddly comfortable with him. He doesn’t put my body on full alert the way Jase does. None of them do.

For whatever reason, Jase is dangerous to me.

I’m done with my shift at Lyrics and Ink and want nothing more than to go to the bar and check on Mya. But I know that’s not a good idea.

I’m not sure what it is about this chick, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her today. The stubbornness in her. To some people, she may seem cold, but not to me. I see her. I see the pain she wants to hide, that she wants to smash so far down no one can call her on it. She wants to make herself as small as possible so no one will pay attention to her.

But that’s impossible.

Instead of going to the bar, I go upstairs, but she’s not at the bar. She’s in the living room and on the couch with Tommy.

“What are you doing here?” I direct my question at Tommy who looks up from the mindless television they’re watching, something on MTV.

“We took the morning shift. Thought she might need some time to ease into it, but I was wrong.” He winks at Mya. “She’s a pro.”

Mya’s mouth lifts into a small smile before she wipes it away and stands up. “I’m going to my room.”

I want to beg her to stay, dig deeper into who she is. But of course, I know that wouldn’t work with her. She leaves, and I plop down next to Tommy. “Pro, huh?”

He smiles. “She’s amazing. Handles customers well. Even knows how to work for tips.”

I feel a growl bubbling up in my throat at the thought. “What the fuck does that mean?”

He eyes me with suspicion. “Aw, do you have a little crush?”

“Fuck off.”

He, of course, does not fuck off. He laughs, and if I didn’t love him like a brother, I’d punch him for it. I met Tommy and James when I moved here with Finn, but we all clicked right away, formed a bond. And even though James and Tommy were a well-established couple by then, we all moved in here together. I don’t think any of us have plans to move out any time soon.

It just works.

But now, Mya’s here, and everything feels a little off-kilter. I want to know why she’s so closed off. Why she’s so determined not to get to know us. Why she wants out. Where the fuck is out?

She just left Kansas City.

Instead, I just go to my room and lay on my bed, looking up at the shelf full of trophies. I close my eyes and hear the crowd roaring loudly, my teammates