Annelly

Two days since the incident that shall not be named, I still have to brace myself before facing the relentless scrutiny of our small town. Determined to prove there is nothing wrong with me, I lift my chin, steady my nerves, and stride into the dining room for the start of my Monday shift like I haven’t got a care in the world. 

The moment Wendy spots me, she approaches. “Hey… Ben and the guys are in the private room. Your mom wants you to take them.”

“Thanks, I’ll check on them now,” I reply with a smile, grateful for the assignment. Working in the private room offers a small reprieve—a few blessed hours away from the judgmental stares of the locals who watch me like I’m some twisted social experiment, and they’re waiting to see when I’ll finally crack.

I know this is Mom’s doing, her way of shielding me from the town’s relentless gossip until my latest mishap blows over. Something she confirms with a subtle nod when our gazes meet from where she stands behind the counter taking care of a customer. Since our heated—yet oddly reassuring—exchange yesterday, something has shifted between us. She seems determined to prove she cares about what I’m going through and genuinely wants to support me. She’s even gone so far as to switch her opening shifts with another server, ensuring I’m not working the closing shifts alone. 

It’s not much, but for us, it’s a big step—especially since, most of the time, it feels like we’re both actively avoiding one another. I can’t deny that effort matters, though I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it. On one hand, I want to believe this is her way of being there for me. But then there’s that persistent little voice of resentment inside my head, whispering that she’s only doing it to keep tabs on me, to ensure I don’t embarrass her further. 

Honestly, with how unreliable my instincts have been lately, it’s probably best to give her the benefit of the doubt and stop overthinking it—at least for now. If the past has taught me anything, it’s that her true motives will reveal themselves soon enough. For now, my focus needs to be on not reading too much into her actions, so I can avoid the crushing disappointment that always follows when she inevitably lets me down.

Reaching the door to the private room, the relief I felt at getting out of working the main dining room fades fast when I realize who is likely waiting on the other side. If Ben’s here, then so is his team—which includes James, too. 

Pausing for a moment, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, steeling myself and reinforcing the walls around my heart for yet another excruciating encounter with him. 

He hurt me. 

I’m mad at him for it. 

Nothing he does or says will change that. 

With my defenses firmly in place, I push open the door and step inside. The moment I do, before I even see him, I feel his eyes on me. Like the strike of a match, heat flares across my skin as though his gaze is tracing every inch of me, leaving a sizzling path in its wake. I tell myself to ignore it, to stay focused, but the pull is relentless—like a sharp ache low in my stomach, demanding I look at him.

And when I finally give in, the spark that ignites between us is instant, scorching. It darn near short-circuits my brain, pulling my feet to an abrupt stop.

I hate how my body reacts to him. I’m like a moth drawn to a flame, helpless against the lure of those crystal-blue eyes that shine with an almost magnetic pull. They beckon me closer, calling to some primal, vulnerable part of me that longs to give in. 

But I know better. I’ve already been burned, and the sting of that pain is all the reminder I need to stay away. The closer I let myself get to him, the worse it hurts, and no matter how much I might wish otherwise, he’s already left me scarred.

Noting where Ben is seated at the head of the table, I make my way over, deliberately positioning myself so James is out of my line of sight. As I take the drink orders, I recognize all the faces in the room except for a short, older man who must be an Offset Tactical client. 

With his blotchy red complexion, sagging jowls, and stubby frame, he strikes me as someone accustomed to indulging in the decadence his wealth affords. The tailored suit he’s wearing may be expensive, but it’s clear he doesn’t take great care of himself.

When he catches me looking at him, he gives me a smarmy wink that sets every alarm in my body blaring. My heart stutters, my pulse picking up speed as a wave of cold clamminess washes over my skin. A lump of fear rises in my throat, but I force myself to swallow it down, assuming my reaction is just the latest symptom of my ever-growing paranoia.

Stop it, Annelly. You’re safe. You’re amongst friends. Now go! Get out there and do your damn job.

Several minutes later, I return with the drinks, my mind still reeling with unease as I chastise myself for slipping and not keeping it together. Thankfully, the guys don’t seem to notice. They’re engrossed in conversation, their voices blending into a low, indistinct hum as I make my way around the table, placing each glass in front of its owner with practiced efficiency.

When I step up to the unfamiliar man to place his drink in front of him, the air around me shifts. A chill skates down my spine a split second before I feel it—his cold, clammy hand skimming up the back of my knee, sliding higher against the bare skin of my thigh, beneath the skirt of my uniform.

Fear grips me instantly, locking me in place as a cold sweat breaks out across my skin. Every hair on my body stands on end, and a wave of pure terror snakes its way down my spine, spreading through my limbs and leaving me drowning in a sickening sense of freefall. 

 My lungs seize, burning with pain as I gasp for air, but the crushing tightness in my chest refuses to let me breathe. The world around me vanishes, dissolving into nothingness, and suddenly, I’m no longer here.

I’m back in his office. 

Victor’s body looms over me, pinning me to the wall. His weight crushes me as his hands roam, clawing, scarring, defiling—each touch an unbearable mix of terror and agony.

I fight. I struggle with everything I have. To my relief, I manage to get free, only to collapse on the floor in a panic. Terrified, I frantically kick away, scrambling backward on trembling limbs until my back slams against the wall behind me with a bone-jarring thud. The impact is so strong and unexpected that it forces out the little air I have in my lungs in a piercing scream that rips its way from my throat. 

No! This isn’t real. It can’t be real!

And yet here I am, reliving the nightmare I thought I’d already escaped. But if I did, then why can I still taste the putrid flavor of his tongue in my mouth? How is it that I can feel the rough, soulless grip of his hands bruising my skin? 

I can’t escape.

God, why can’t I get away?

“No!” My scream shatters the silence as I beg between ragged sobs. “Please, stop! Please… let me go!” 

“Christ, Annelly, it’s me.” His voice cuts through the suffocating haze, sharp and pleading. “You’re safe. You’re okay.” 

James’s words pierce through the nightmare, pulling me back from the edge of that dark abyss. His voice feels like a lifeline, a tether guiding me out of the horrors of Victor’s office and back to the here and now. Back to Ruby Creek and the safety of my family’s diner.

Because I got away that night.

Thank God I did get away.

As the panic begins to recede, I take in the space around me, noting that, unlike Victor’s office, the room is bright with light. I’m surrounded by white walls that are lined with mementos and pictures from the 1950s that my parents spent a lifetime collecting. 

As the present comes into sharper focus, I notice I’m in the hallway that separates the private room from the main dining area. Not trapped. Not alone fighting to survive a monster, like the adrenaline pumping through my blood would have me believe.

And yet, nothing anchors me as much as the warmth of James’s arms around me. I’m sitting sideways on his lap as he cradles me against his chest on the wooden bench we use as overflow seating. His strong hold is steady, unyielding, and somehow more comforting than anything I could imagine. It’s why I let myself sink into him, allowing the safety of his embrace to fight off the last remnants of the panic still coursing through my veins. For one precious moment, I absorb the heat of his body and the solid weight of his arms. His soft, masculine scent surrounds me, and I take it in greedily, finding solace in the unexpected way it calms me. 

But as awareness creeps back in, so does the shame. Embarrassment wells up inside me, tightening my chest once more. The words I’ve been holding back rush out in a trembling whisper. 

“He touched me… he touched me.” The desperate, broken tone of my voice barely sounds like my own. “I swear, he touched me.” My words crack as they spill out, a plea for him to believe me. This time, it’s not my imagination. This time, I know it happened.

My arms tighten around his neck as I bury my face against his shoulder. Tears slip free, silent and unrelenting. Desperate for his anchoring warmth, I hold on, hoping it’s enough to quiet the storm brewing inside me.

“I saw…” he rasps, his voice raw with emotion. He pauses to clear his throat before continuing in a firm tone that’s laced with fury. “I saw what he did. That bastard won’t get anywhere near you again. I swear it.” 

His words are a hiss against the top of my head, his lips brushing my hair as if sealing his vow of protection with the tender gesture. Then he pulls back, his arms steadying me while those piercing crystal-blue eyes search my face, scrutinizing every detail as if to reassure himself that I’m truly okay. 

Even clouded with anger, his eyes hold a power that steals my breath. They’re captivating—dangerously so. They command my every thought, stirring a flutter deep in my belly that I haven’t felt in far too long. But just as quickly as that warmth blooms, it’s doused by a cold, hard reality—the memory of the intense pain he caused me when he walked away, effectively ending whatever it was that existed between us.

What the hell am I doing? This is exactly why I need to stay far away from him. 

“I shouldn’t be here. I can’t be near you,” I murmur, the words trembling as they leave me. My voice is raw, a whisper of pain I can’t disguise. I try to push away from him, but the weight of the last several minutes has left me drained, my strength no match for the toll of it all. 

His arms don’t loosen right away. Instead, his brow furrows, confusion flickering across his face as his eyes search mine. “Why?” he whispers back, his tone soft, imploring. It’s not just a question—it’s a plea, a quiet, desperate request for me to reconsider.

“Because you...” I pause, my chest aching as I carefully weigh my words. Is it even worth saying? The thought alone feels like pouring salt into my own wounds—the ones he so callously inflicted. “You don’t want me…” My voice fades, trembling, as a single tear slips free, carrying the sting of his rejection.

“Annelly...” he groans, the sound full of anguish, but it’s followed by silence. 

Regret clings to him like a shadow, thickening the air between us. As if my words have cut him too, he releases his hold on me. When he helps me back on my feet and then steps away, the ache inside my chest nearly shatters me. If I ever had any lingering hope that things might have changed, his retreat just crushed it. His actions say it all—he still doesn’t want me. The sheer humiliation is what finally jolts me into action, giving me the strength to stumble away from him and put precious distance between us. 

“Please,” I say, my voice trembling but firm as I back away from him, inching closer to the main dining room and my escape. “If you care about me at all, stay the hell away from me.” 

The weight of my words lingers in the air, heavy and resolute. I don’t wait for his response. Instead, I turn and walk away—from him, from my mom, from the diner, and the Ruby Creek residents watching me with wide eyes. 

As mom told me yesterday during our talk, it’s time I do what’s best for me.

So I’m going home. 

Hopefully, to sleep the rest of this godforsaken day away.

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