I almost laugh. Owen knows me too well, even through text. We grew up together in Granddad Jim's house after our parents decided parenting wasn't for them, learned to rely on each other when there was no one else. He moved away first, came back recently, and now he's stupidly happy with Ivy, my best friend since childhood.
I'm happy for them. Genuinely. Watching them finally figure out what everyone else could see for years has been one of the few bright spots in my life lately.
I'm also envious in a way that makes me feel like a petty asshole.
*Just tired,* I text back. *Talk tomorrow.*
I pocket the phone and do one final walk-through, checking everything twice because that's who I am now: obsessive, paranoid, unable to trust that anything is truly done. The kitchen is pristine. The prep is ready for tomorrow. Everything is exactly as it should be.
Except me.
I lock up and step into the October night, the air crisp enough to make me pull my jacket tighter. Blackwater Falls is quiet at this hour, most businesses closed, just the streetlights and the distant sound of a motorcycle rumbling through town. Probably one of the Savage Riders heading home.
I still can't quite believe how that opening night went. I'd been nervous when I saw the leather cuts come through the door. Bikers in my nice restaurant… What if they caused problems, what if they scared off other customers? Instead, they were respectful, complimentary, tipped well, and one of them told me if anyone gave me trouble to let them know.
I still don't know what to do with that offer.
Chapter 2 - Maya
My car refuses to start.
Again.
I turn the key for the fourth time, and the engine makes that same pathetic wheezing sound, like it's dying, which it probably is, before giving up entirely. The dashboard lights flicker once and go dark.
"Are you kidding me right now?" I smack the steering wheel with both hands, immediately regret it when pain shoots through my palms, and slump back against the seat.
This is perfect. Just perfect. Cap off a night where my boss shot down my idea without even pretending to consider it by stranding me in the Juniper's parking lot at ten o'clock at night with a dead car and a dying phone battery.
I pull out my cell and stare at the 8% charge remaining. Mom's working the overnight shift, so calling her isn't an option. I could call a tow truck, except I can't afford a tow truck because I'm barely making enough to help with bills as it is. The mechanic's been telling me for months that this car is on borrowed time, and apparently time's finally run out.
"Dammit." I drop my head back against the headrest and close my eyes.
I'm still angry. That's the worst part. I'm angrier about Levi dismissing my idea than I am about the car, which is ridiculous because the car is an actual problem while Levi Harper's inability to see me as anything but a kitchen helper who should keep her mouth shut is just... frustrating.
*My philosophy. My restaurant. My decision.*
His voice echoes in my head, flat and final, like I'd suggested something absurd instead of a special that fit perfectly with Juniper's whole concept. I wasn't trying to take over. I wasn't trying to overstep. I was trying to contribute, to show him that I'm more than just someone who can follow his instructions.
But he won't let me.
Every idea I've suggested over the past two weeks, he's shut down. Every attempt to have a real conversation about food, about technique, about anything beyond immediate tasks, he deflects or ignores. Sometimes I catch him watching me, and I think maybe he's going to say something, acknowledge that I exist beyond my function in his kitchen.
Then he turns away and barks another order, and I'm back to being invisible.
Story of my life, really.
I've spent twenty-four years being invisible to men. The pretty girls got noticed, the thin girls got asked out, and I got to be the "sweet" one, the "nice" one, the one who was "such a good friend." I made peace with it, mostly, and decided my career mattered more than waiting around for someone to see me as more than just the chubby girl in the corner.
But Levi makes me feel visible in the worst way. Like he sees me and actively wishes he didn't.
My phone buzzes with a low battery warning. Seven percent now.
"Okay." I take a breath. "Okay. Think."
I could walk. It's only about three miles to the house Mom and I share on the edge of town. Forty-five minutes, maybe an hour in the dark. Not ideal, but doable. Or I could sit here and wait untilmorning when the mechanic's shop opens, except the thought of spending the night in my car in an empty parking lot is—
Headlights sweep across my rearview mirror.