An Unlocked Mind (Secrets #2)(36)
Vic’s expression was hopeful, and Rob had a hard time believing it was real. He wasn’t about to question it, though. The time he’d spent with Vic had flown by too quickly, and Rob hated the fact that it was finally over.
Tell him that. “I had a great time. I wish I could stay longer.” They weren’t just glib words. He meant every single one.
Vic grinned. “Me, too. I’m on holiday, and it would be nice to spend some time with you.”
The admission rocked Rob to his core. Someone actually wanted to spend time with him? How fucking awesome was that?
But now he was back in Manchester, his weekend officially over. By the time he got home, it was already after five o’clock. He had to work tomorrow, but he didn’t care. The glow of his time with Vic would carry him through the week until he could see Vic again.
That realization was enough to tell him that there’d been an irrevocable shift inside him.
JUDGING BY how little Rob had seen his boss, Mr. Peterson appeared to have relented in his mission to find Rob the worst possible tasks, and as a result, the days had flown by. When he wasn’t at work, he was curled up in his armchair or in bed, reading Vic’s book. He loved every page and couldn’t wait to talk to Vic about it. He wondered what Vic would say when he handed it back, along with his copy of a Grisham novel. He wasn’t sure why the thought of talking about the stories excited him so much.
Maybe it’s because we share something in common. The sight of all Vic’s books on the numerous shelves in his lounge was proof that Vic was as much into reading as Rob. More than that, he’d enjoyed their conversations. Vic was proving to be a very interesting man.
Friday morning Rob rolled out of bed, took a lingering shower, then slipped into his uniform. His apron carefully rolled up and placed into his backpack, he stepped outside to be greeted by sweet birdsong, a blue sky, and sunshine. It was such a glorious day that he decided to walk to work.
When he arrived at the supermarket, he pulled the shopping trolleys that were locked together in one long line, guiding them toward the main doors. He spied a young mother coming out, struggling with three bags of shopping in one hand while she tried to soothe the crying toddler who clutched her other hand.
“Here, let me carry your shopping,” he offered, leaving his trolleys and walking toward her.
She rolled out a heavy sigh of relief. “Thank you.” She handed the bags over and led the little boy to her car, Rob following behind. He couldn’t deny how good it felt to be doing something for someone else. Once she was pulling out of the car park, waving cheerfully at him, Rob resumed his task and pushed the trolleys into the store, ready to start his day.
“Rob? Can you step into my office, please?”
Rob blinked at Mr. Peterson. “Can I put my backpack away first and put on my apron?” The sight of Mr. Peterson, glaring, his arms folded across his chest, sent a shiver of apprehension through him. He couldn’t think what the problem could be, but Rob wasn’t about to make him wait. “Yes, sir.”
As they walked through the store toward the office, Rob noticed several staff members staring at him, only to look away when he turned in their direction. It was weird. Though he wouldn’t describe any of his coworkers as mates, he still got on okay with them, so he couldn’t imagine what was going on.
Mr. Peterson pushed open the door to his office and then pointed to the chair. “Sit there.”
His brusque manner was creating all kinds of disquiet within Rob. He sat down, his hands folded in his lap, wondering what the hell was coming his way.
Mr. Peterson closed the door and took a seat at his desk. He pulled out a folder from one of the drawers and placed it next to the phone. When he raised his chin to look at Rob, his eyes were cool. “Rob, do you know why you’re here?”
“No, sir.”
Mr. Peterson sighed. “Right. Last weekend someone came into the store and made some very distressing allegations that involve you. We looked into it but couldn’t corroborate the claims, so Head Office has instructed me to speak to you about them.”
“Claims… about me?” Rob’s head was spinning. Who would say something about me?
More worryingly, what would they say that would cause such a reaction from his manager?
Mr. Peterson opened the folder and removed the top sheet. He pulled a pair of dark-framed glasses from his pocket and perched them on his nose. He scanned the paper for a moment before speaking. “I’m not going to beat around the bush. In 2010, did you unlawfully remove items from these premises without paying for them?”
What the fuck? The accusation ripped through Rob. It had been a couple of times when he was a kid. He hadn’t done it since.
“Rob?” Mr. Peterson stared at him, his gaze narrowed.
I could deny it. There’s no proof. No one else knows except for….
Realization sent icy fingers skittering over his skin. There was only one way Mr. Peterson could have known, only one person who could possibly have told him—Jamie.
Fuck. That son of a bitch.
Rob must really have pissed him off for him to resort to this. Well, fuck him! Rob would deny it and that would be the end of it. It would be his word against Jamie’s.
Only….
Weariness stole over him. Rob had more than enough lies in his past without adding to them. He was trying his damnedest to be a better person, especially since Vic seemed to see him that way. Yes, he could deny it, say it was nothing but lies, but if he did that, would he really be any different than he was all those years ago?