Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
"Lachlan's right," I say before thinking about whether it's my place to get involved. This is their business after all, and I'm just an employee, not a partner. With all eyes now on me, I decide to continue. "Men like that smell weakness from across the city. They live for exerting power and watching people buckle. I know it's not great to be in conflict with someone who seems so powerful, but men like that don't expect people to stand up to them. If he wants this place, your only option is going to be to take him head on."
Lachlan nods. "Dawn's right. We need to get back out there now. It's busy and we can't take our eyes off the business. But tomorrow morning, we need to meet to discuss our strategy. This isn't going to go away. We have to be prepared."
Thomas and Mitchell nod, and Lachlan strides out of the office. In the doorway, he turns to Thomas. "I'm not going to be of much use with my hand like this. Can you take over behind the bar?
"Sure."
And just like that, everyone goes back to work.
The show must go on.
The whole evening, I'm watchful. I do my job to the best of my abilities, but my eyes don't rest in one place for long. Half of me expects Jeffrey to come back and make more trouble. The other half keeps a concerned eye on Lachlan.
As we're closing up, I find him in the office, resting his forehead in his hand, propped against his elbow on the desk.
"Everything okay?" I ask.
He straightens and nods once. "Aye. I am."
"Do you feel like taking a walk?"
His dark eyes drift to the doorway, considering. "Alright."
"We can go down to the beach, if you like? My feet are hot. They could do with some cool water."
Lachlan nods, almost solemnly, and I let him lead the way because he's that kind of man, but as we hit the sidewalk, he steers me gently with a hand at my back until he's walking nearest the road, even though there's hardly any traffic at this time.
"Thank you, for earlier," he says, glancing from beneath lowered lashes. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
"It's okay," I say, quickly.
"No, it isn't." Lachlan's tone is firm, but he's momentarily distracted by a need to look both ways as we cross the road. "It's never okay to lose it like that. I hate that about myself."
"You didn't hurt anyone," I say. "Only your poor hand."
"Witnessing violence is damaging." His uninjured hand goes to the back of his neck and massages it.
"It is," I say. "But I'm a grown woman and I can tell the difference between a violent bad man, and a man who's frustrated."
"I can't control it," he says, shaking his head. "It's like a flash flood. It just hits me."
"I feel that way too, sometimes."
He glances at me, brow lowered. "You smash walls with your fists?"
"Maybe not smash walls," I say, holding my hands out. "These wouldn't be effective. Too small. I just mean that sometimes, I can't control my temper. I really try, but there have been times when I've said hurtful things and regretted it so badly after. There have been times where I've lashed out and damaged my possessions."
"If I could get rid of my temper, I would."
"That's what makes you a good man, Lachlan."
I don't ask him the questions that bubble against my tongue. Did he see violence as a child? Was he physically abused? Our relationship isn't like that, at least not yet. But I see that in him. A kid who's witnessed too much and who holds life tightly within strict boundaries so that he never feels out of control. A kid who hates that he has a similar instinct to someone who hurt him.
When we get to the beach, I sit on the sand to untie my shoes and slide off my socks. This late, the warmth of the sun has seeped out of the sand, leaving cool dampness in its wake.
Lachlan folds his big body the same way, removing his sneakers and stretching out his long, muscular legs, leaning back on his elbows and gazing at the dark, swirling ocean.
I push up, jogging down to the shoreline, hissing as the chill of the water bites against my skin. I walk in until my calves are submerged and tip my face up to the star-filled sky.
It's hard to feel important when you look around at the world and realize that you’re just like a fleck of sand or a spark of light within the infinite universe. It's at moments Iike this, I chastise myself for dwelling too much on my own problems.
I should help other people. Reach out to the community and play a role in shaping it.
All of that would make me a better person.