Deploy, Part One (Rawlings #1)(45)

“I do. Either you stop riding my ass, being a dick and glaring at all my friends, or I’m going to lose it.”

“Your friends?” he asked, looking back to her. They had the same friends.

“The other day when I went home early, Atticus was my ride and as I got in his truck I was afraid.” Murdock’s entire body tensed and she nodded toward him. “Because of that. Because somehow I have managed to wonder what you would think or say before any move I make. Just like you were my dad. I mean it. I can’t do that. We’ve both lived here our whole lives. Grew up with those kids. I can’t live looking over my shoulder.”

“You were with a Rawlings?”

“Shut it.”

He shook his head, pretty damn sure her boldness was coming from them. Those high and mighty f*ckers. “And what kind of fun did I miss?”

“Yard work.”

He moved his stare forward and heaved a breath out. She had a point. Her staying away from that family did seem suspicious. His paranoid mind even told him that since the whole town was sure he and Justice were a couple, and she abruptly stopped talking to them—that if they ever did find Declan’s body, they’d have reason to think he kept her away out of fear and guilt.

“I’m not choosing your friends for you,” he said finally. “I will tell you hooking up with anyone right now is not smart. And I’ll tell you we still need to be tight. It may feel like it’s over, but I have watched my dad stretch cases out across the better part of a decade.”

For him, it would not be over until he was sure what was left of Declan and his truck had washed out into the ocean. Which could be never.

“Me and you need to keep this front up. Friends, whatever. I’ve already been telling people we didn’t want anything heavy right now.”

Meaning he had been telling all the girls he was f*cking that.

“Good. Fine,” she said, nodding for him to go. She didn’t want to be alone with him. Something had snapped in him the night of the accident. She’d known it all along but now, after taking a breath and remembering who she was then, realizing who she was now, and where she wanted to go...she was sure the more space, the better.

Every time he had dropped her off late before he had come in and told her boss it was his fault, or if he was really late like today, he’d have his dad stop by for breakfast and tell her boss as much. It was hard to look the Sheriff in the eye and say you couldn’t take his apology.

This time, Murdock peeled out of the parking lot without a glance back.

The diner was slammed. It always was right at six. People were grabbing food before heading out to their construction jobs or church. Sundays were the worst and she had let her boss down.

The anger in his stare when she walked in said as much, him shaking his head as he loaded trays up to be sent out capitalized on the point.

“Do you want me to expo?” she asked, knowing putting the last touches on the plates and loading them up for the servers was the best she could hope for. All the sections were filled by then. At least this way she could still walk away with a few tips. The waitresses would have to give her ten percent of their take.

“No,” he said, sending a tray out and reaching to put another down on the counter in front of one of the single seats. “I’m done. I gave you over three weeks off work. Sent you damn flowers and a card. I overlooked all the dishes you dropped. I gave you sections that others needed more than you only for you to show up late every time you decided to sleep in.”

“Needed more than me?” she rebutted.

Josh, an older man who always had sheen on his widow’s peak and food stains across his white oxford shirt that framed his potbelly, put his hands on his hips. “Yes, more than you. They have kids at home, mouths to feed.”

“Oh, so because I’m not knocked up at seventeen I don’t deserve a good section? And while we’re at it, because I don’t smoke I don’t get paid breaks to go out back and light up because I’m ‘stressed.’”

“Don’t get in my face, girl. You’re already fired. Making a scene isn’t going to help your rep.”

“My rep?” she shouted.

“Yeah,” he said, with a glance at his dining room. “You come in here looking rode hard and put up wet every morning, late, climbing out of one boys truck and the other day you couldn’t get out of here fast enough with another one. I don’t have time for your teen drama. I have people who need this job and the money I give them.”

She wanted to cry, to yell, but it was pointless.

Instead, she ripped her apron off and the cheap name tag and tossed it on all the food that was ready go out, making it trash.

“You’re paying for all for that!” Josh roared.

Out of nowhere, Justice heard the booming voice of Nash Rawlings. “No, I am. It’s my breakfast, and you can keep it,” he said throwing a hundred down, then nodding for those at his table, Chasen and Tobias, to leave.

Nash Rawlings, even at sixty-two, was a commanding man. He stood six four, had broad shoulders and a lean build. His dark hair that he still kept in a short military cut only had traces of gray. His authoritative stare always made you want to stand up a little straighter. His deep voice offered no room for compromise, that is when he did bother to speak. Most times, people seemed to know what he wanted and did so without question.