“Maria,” I say the moment she answers the phone. “It’s Morgan.”
“Oh, Morgan, thank god. I’ve been so worried about you.”
“Worried, why?” I ask, puzzled.
“That boyfriend of yours came in here yesterday. He was looking for you.”
“Wade?” My heart drops into the pit of my stomach, and my gaze moves to Ryan. He’s resting his chin in his hands, watching me intently, so I turn my back and take a few steps in the other direction.
“Yes, him.” She knows nothing of my situation, but the few times she’s met him when he’s come into work pestering me for money was enough for her to know she didn’t like him. She’s probably the only one who didn’t think he was wonderful. “He got so angry when I told him you weren’t here and accused me of hiding you. Morgan, that guy is crazy. You know I’ve never been one to interfere, but you can do so much better than that.”
“I know,” I say, letting out a deflated sigh. “I’ve left him. That’s why I didn’t come into work yesterday. I had to leave town.”
“Oh, honey,” she says, sympathy lining her words. “When you didn’t arrive this morning, I was frantic. I tried to call your phone, but it went straight to voicemail. I thought something must’ve happened to you.”
Tears fill my eyes. Thankfully my back is still to Ryan. I don’t want him to see my weakness. “I’m okay,” I whisper, “my phone was flat. I won’t be coming back to work. I’m sorry to let you down like this, but I think it’s best if I start over somewhere far away from there.”
“Honey, I’m sorry to lose you and I’ll miss you more than you know—you’re one of my best workers—but you need to do what’s best for you. Does he know where you are?”
“No.”
“Good, keep it that way.”
“I have no intention of telling him.”
“If he comes back in, I won’t tell him I’ve heard from you.”
“I appreciate that. Thank you.”
“I have a customer waiting. I have to go.”
“Okay.”
“Be safe, Morgan.”
“I will. Thanks.”
After ending the call, I stay with my back to Ryan, giving myself a few moments to pull myself together. This is really happening. I have no home, no job, and a poor excuse for a bank account. My future looks bleak.
I jump when a hand rests on my shoulder. “Are you okay?” Ryan asks, and I can hear the concern in his voice.
“I will be,” is my only reply, as I reach up to wipe the tears from my face.
I pass him back his phone, but still can’t bring myself to look at him. “Come,” he says. “Let’s go get that coffee.”
We walk in silence all the way to the café, and I’m thankful for that. I’m in no mood for any of his questions, although there’s a part of me that wants to tell him everything. My dire situation is starting to sink in, and as desperate as this sounds, he’s the closest thing I have to a friend right now.
“Ryan,” a middle aged lady says as we enter the café.
“Hi, Sally.” He seems to know everyone in this town by name, and has greeted everyone we’ve passed with sincerity.
Sally puts the cloth she was just using to wipe down one of the tables in the front pocket of her apron before focusing her attention on me. After giving me a pleasant smile, her gaze moves back to Ryan. “Table for two?”
“No, actually, we just want two coffees to go. We’re gonna head down to the river.” Her smile grows as her eyes move from him back to me. I hope she doesn’t think this is a date.
“Nice,” she says. “It’s a beautiful day for it.”
“It is,” he replies.
“Are you new in town? I haven’t seen you around here before.”
“Sorry,” Ryan says, answering for me. “This is Morgan.” I’m glad he doesn’t elaborate further.
“Hi, Morgan.” She extends her hand to me. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
“You too,” I reply. We are interrupted when the phone behind the counter rings.
“Just give me a second, and I’ll be right with you.”
Sally seems flustered when she comes back to us, and Ryan obviously notices that also. “Everything all right, Sally?” he asks.
“Amber quit yesterday—her husband said she was working too many hours—and that,” she says, pointing to the phone on the wall, “was Christy. She just called in sick. I can manage this place on my own in the mornings, but come lunchtime I don’t know how I’m going to cope.”
“There’s nobody else you can call in?”
“Nope.” I can hear the desperation in her voice and I feel bad. “You don’t know anyone, do you?”
Before Ryan gets a chance to answer, I cut in. “I can help you. I’ve worked in the hospitality industry since I was seventeen.” It’s only for a few hours, and I have nothing better to do.
“OMG!” Sally practically squeals. “Would you? That would be amazing.” I turn to Ryan, and the huge smile I see on his face tells me he’s pleased by my offer to help. “Can you start at eleven? That will give us time to prepare for the rush hour. I’ll probably only need you until two.”
“Sounds great.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” she says. She has no idea how right she is; I’m pretty sure I saved my own life yesterday.
“Look at you,” Ryan says, bumping shoulders with me as we leave the café with our coffees in hand.
“What?”
“Offering to help… That was really nice of you.”
“It’s not like I have anything better to do,” I reply sarcastically.
“I’m offended by that comment,” he says, placing his hand on his chest in mock hurt. “You were supposed to be spending your time hanging out with me.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Being escorted around town by the local cop isn’t really classed as hanging out you know.”
He stops to look at me intently, and I immediately become self-conscious. Do I have a milk moustache? I bring my hand up, wiping my mouth just as he speaks. “You have a beautiful smile. You should smile more often.”
I feel my face flush from his words. It pleases me that he thinks my smile is beautiful. I barely even know this guy, but the more I get to know him, the more I’m finding it’s impossible not to like him.
“I haven’t had much to smile about lately,” I admit.
“Give it time,” is all he says.
“When you said you’ve been exactly where I am, what did you mean?”
He shrugs his shoulders and starts walking again. It takes some time before he finally answers. “My stepfather was abusive towards my mother. It went on for years. I guess she was too scared to leave him. It was awful seeing her being treated so badly. She was a good mum and wife. But I was just a kid, and I was scared of him too, but that doesn’t seem to lessen the guilt I still carry around for not protecting her.”
“The night we left, he was chasing my mother around the kitchen table with a metal candlestick in his hand, and he kept lunging at her. He was getting more and more frustrated because she kept evading him. I remember him saying something like, ‘When I get my hands on you, I’m going to cave your fucking skull in.’”
I gasp when he says that. It would’ve been terrifying for them both.
“I was standing in the doorway watching, paralysed with fear, but something inside me knew that if I didn’t do something, this time he was really going to kill her.”
“You poor thing,” I say, instinctively reaching for his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. He looks down at our joined hands, and I see the corners of his mouth curve up, so I immediately let go. I felt compelled to comfort him, but I don’t want him getting the wrong idea.
I see a flash of disappointment cross his face, before he shoves his free hand into the pocket of his jeans. He takes another sip of his coffee before he continues speaking. “The next time he passed me, I stuck my foot out, tripping him over.”
“That was a very brave move for a small child to make.” It makes me feel even weaker for not having the courage to stand up to my own abuser.
“I’ll never forget the look on his face when he stood up and faced me. Anger was pouring off him, and in his eyes was a look of pure evil.”
“I know that look well,” I admit. This time, he removes his hand from his pocket, wrapping it in mine. It seems like the difficulties of our past are bonding us in some strange way. It’s like an unspoken understanding for what the other has gone through.
“I’d never been so frightened,” he admits. “I’d seen a lot in my young life, but that was the first time his anger was directed at me.”
I feel tears sting my eyes as I hang on his every word. I want to grab that small boy and wrap him in my arms.
He stops walking and turns to face me. “He backhanded me so hard, I went flying across the room.” He bows his head, and a lone tear leaks from my eye.
“Oh, Ryan.”
“I was so scared, I wet myself.”
Without even thinking, I step forward, wrapping him in my arms and holding him tight.
“I’m sorry he did that to you,” I whisper.
“And I’m sorry that somebody hurt you as well.”