Beautiful Sacrifice (32 page)

She inhaled through her nose. “You have always been supremely selfish. I don’t know why I expected tonight to be any different.”

“Don’t come back,” I said before getting out of the car.

“Falyn,” she called.

I leaned down as the passenger window lowered.

“This is the last slap in the face. If your father loses this campaign because of you, we won’t offer to help you again.”

“I didn’t expect that you would.”

I thanked her for the ride and then left her alone, ignoring the sound of my name.

By the time I pushed open the glass door, it was night, and I was exhausted—physically, emotionally, and mentally.

The headlights of the G-Wagon poured through the glass wall as Blaire backed out and then disappeared as she pulled away.

The dining area was dark, and I was alone. I sat on the orange-and-white tiles, lay on my side, and then curled up into a ball before crying myself to sleep.

Someone stabbed a finger into my shoulder, and I winced. The person did it again, and I opened my eyes, raising my hand to protect me from another jab.

My vision sharpened, and I saw Pete standing over me, concern in his eyes.

I wiped my face, sitting up. “What time is it?” I asked, not really expecting an answer.

I twisted the narrow leather band on my wrist to see the face of my watch. It was five a.m. on Saturday morning. Chuck and Phaedra would be arriving at any moment.

“Shit,” I said, scrambling to my feet.

Before I could make a dash for the stairs, Pete grabbed my wrist.

I relaxed my shoulders, covering his hand with mine. “I’m okay.”

He didn’t let go.

“Really. I’m okay.”

Pete touched his thumb to his lips, lifting his pinky in the air.

“No. I wasn’t drinking. The girl Taylor was with in San Diego? She’s pregnant.”

Pete’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and he released my arm. I hurried to the stairs, taking them two at a time.

I jumped in the shower, pushing down memories of the previous evening before they could surface.

I was never so glad to be working on a Saturday. It would be busy, and there was a festival this weekend. There was no better distraction than impatient, hungry customers. Without a phone, Taylor would have no way to contact me, other than coming to the Bucksaw, and I knew he was on second shift that day and the next.

I was conflicted, trying not to cry one minute and fighting anger the next. I worried, knowing he was miles away in the burning woods with so much on his mind. Leaving him alone to deal with Alyssa hadn’t helped matters any, but I had created the mess we were all in. Taylor had made it worse. But his job wasn’t going to change, and neither were our problems. It was time I bowed out for good. One of us had to do it.

I walked down the stairs, tying my still damp hair into a bun at the crown of my head, and I heard Phaedra having a one-sided conversation. I pushed through the double doors and sat on my regular counter in the kitchen, across from the center prep table.

Hector was washing vegetables, keeping his head down, not saying a word. Pete was peeling potatoes, grimacing at me while he worked.

“What the hell is going on?” Phaedra asked.

Chuck was standing behind her with no sign of talking her down. I opened my mouth to speak, but she held up her hand.

“And don’t tell me it’s nothing, that it’s no big deal, or that you just had a bad night because nothing that’s nothing is going to make you curl up in the fetal position on a tiled floor for an entire night.”

I snapped my opened mouth shut. Phaedra could intimidate anyone, but she had never been so cross with me.

“Spill it,” Phaedra demanded.

“When I asked Taylor for the break, he went to San Diego to see his brother. He ended up … with another woman while he was there. He told me about it in Saint Thomas. We’ve been working through it.”

“And?” she asked, unfazed.

I sucked in a breath, feeling a lump form in my throat. “She came to the hotel last night. She’s pregnant.”

Audible gasps came from all four of my coworkers.

I quickly wiped away a few escaped tears.

“She’s keeping it?” Chuck asked.

I nodded.

Phaedra shifted, trying to uphold her stern demeanor. “What does Taylor have to say?”

“I didn’t stick around long after that.”

Phaedra held out a set of keys and tossed them to me. I caught them, recognizing the key chain.

“There is also the matter of your parents dropping off your vehicle. You’ll have to move it. It’s sitting in customer parking.”

“What?” I asked.

“I told them you didn’t want it,” Chuck said. “The key is in the ignition.”

I looked down at the shiny metal in my hands. “My car is here? They just left it?”

“Lord, girl. Aren’t you listening?” Phaedra asked.

“Where should I … park it?”

Phaedra pointed in the general direction of the street. “Next to where Kirby usually parks. Well? Get goin’.”

“Why are you angry?” I asked, wiping my cheek with my wrist.

“I’m not angry, damn it! I’m worried. Beat it. I’ve got pies to make.” She whipped around, wiping her eyes as she marched to the back.

“Want me to move it?” Chuck asked.

I shook my head. “I’ll do it.”

“Falyn,” Chuck said, his voice soft, “Pete finding you on the floor like that is concerning. We wish you’d talk to us.”

“It just happened. I haven’t had time to talk to anyone.”

“You should have called.”

“I gave Taylor back the phone.”

“Does he know that?”

I nodded.

“So, he knows it’s over then.”

I gripped the keys in my palm, feeling the edges digging into my skin. “He has something far more important to concentrate on.”

I turned for the door, but Chuck called out, “Falyn?”

I stopped but didn’t turn around.

“You should let him decide if you’re his priority or not.”

“It’s not that I don’t think he would choose me,” I said over my shoulder. “It’s just that I couldn’t live with myself if he did.”

After work on Saturday and Sunday nights, instead of waiting for Taylor to come to the Bucksaw after his shift, I would get into my car and drive. I would keep my foot on the gas pedal until I was too tired to continue, trying to get lost and find my way back again.

Monday, I told myself that Taylor would know better than to show up at my place of work, but at eleven thirty, he and his crew arrived.

Kirby, already knowing what to do, sat them at the back table, and Phaedra took their orders. I did my best to ignore them, but Dalton made it a point to tell me hello.

I remained polite, only seeing Taylor from the corners of my eyes. He was staring at me, waiting for me to see him, but I passed by.

“Falyn! Order up!” Chuck yelled.

My feet moved even quicker than normal toward Chuck’s voice. There was no food in the window, so I knew he was allowing me a moment to collect myself. I slipped through the double doors and escaped to my countertop, letting it support my weight as I leaned against it.

“You okay, kiddo?” Chuck asked.

I quickly shook my head. I took a deep breath and then used both of my hands to burst through the swinging doors. If I looked unsure in my decision to end things or showed even a second of weakness, Taylor would be relentless until I gave in. If his post-island actions were any indication, he would never give me a moment of peace.

Taylor didn’t try to make a scene. He ate his food and paid his bill, and then they left.

By one o’clock the next day, I thought that I’d seen the last of him, but he arrived for lunch again—this time, with Trex in tow. Phaedra waited on them again.

I passed by their table, and Taylor reached out for me. “Falyn. For the love of Christ.”

Even though the desperation in his voice made me want to break down, I ignored him, and he said nothing else. Just a few of the closer tables noticed, but Phaedra frowned.

“Falyn, honey,” Phaedra said, “this can’t go on.”

I nodded, pushing through the double doors, knowing Phaedra was heading to Taylor’s table. When she returned, I looked at her from under my brow, ashamed that she had to deal with my problems.

“I told him he can still come in, but only if he promises not to cause a scene. He’s agreed not to bother you.”

I nodded, hugging my middle.

“Should I tell him not to come back?” Phaedra asked. “I hate to be mean to the poor kid. He looks like a lost kitten.”

“I don’t think he would take that well. It’s just for the summer, right? He can’t drive here every day when he’s back in Estes Park. By next summer, if they come back, he’ll be over it.”

Phaedra patted my arm. “I don’t know, baby. From where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like either one of you will.” She scrunched her face. “You sure you can’t try to work it out? I know it’s a mess, but it might be a little easier to fix it together.”

I shook my head and stood up straight before pushing through the kitchen doors and waiting on my tables as if my heart weren’t broken.

I lay in bed that night, swearing to banish every memory of Taylor—the way he’d held me, the way his lips had warmed mine, and the way his voice had softened whenever he told me he loved me.

It was better than the agony of mourning him.

That went on for days, and each day he came in, I would tell myself it would get easier to see him. But it didn’t.

Just like Taylor had said, I had to accept that the constant ache was going to be a part of my day. I couldn’t waste another moment, another tear, on thoughts of him. His life had veered off the path we were on. If he wouldn’t let me forget him, I would learn to live with the pain.

May ended, and June began.

The skies grew hazier every day, and reports on television were circulating the globe. The wildfires in our area were at a peak, the firefighters and hotshot crews seeing more occurrences than they had in a decade. Still, Taylor didn’t miss a lunch—sometimes, coming in as late as two or three, and other days, hurrying in while covered in soot and sweat.

By mid-July, Chuck and Phaedra were considering banning Taylor from the restaurant, but no one could justify it. He never caused a ruckus, he always ordered a meal, he always paid and tipped well, and he was always polite. He never approached me or even tried to initiate conversation.

Taylor would simply show up, waiting patiently for me to give in.

The Bucksaw had been closed for half an hour, and Kirby and I had just finished our nightly duties when Phaedra broached the subject of how to handle Taylor.

“You can’t ban him for loving Falyn,” Kirby said, disgusted with our conversation.

“It’s just not natural,” Phaedra said. “And it damn well isn’t healthy for either of them. He’s got a baby on the way. He needs to be preparing for that.”

I agreed.

“He’s a good kid, Phaedra,” Chuck said. “He misses her. He’ll go back to Estes after the season, the baby will come in December, and he’ll be busy.”

Kirby pouted. “You’re being cruel.”

“Kirby,” Phaedra warned.

“I have always been honest with him. I want nothing to do with adoption,” I said.

“But this is his child!” Kirby screeched.