“Charlie—” Levi starts, but Conner cuts him off.
“Asshat Conner Daniels? Am I missing something? Wait. This is Charlie?” he asks Levi, hooking his thumb over his shoulder to point right at me. “Charlie, as in your best friend Charlie, who never wants to hang out at our place?”
“That’s the one,” Levi quips. His long gait eats up the distance between himself and the rest of us.
“You never told me Charlie was a girl,” Conner accuses.
Throwing my head back toward the ceiling, I laugh dryly. “Of course you would say that. You’ve been making fun of my gender since I was in freaking elementary school.”
“Wait, what? What are you talking—”
“Don’t act like you don’t remember, Asshat Conner Daniels. I went home bawling my eyes out on the bus more times than I can count because you refused to let a girl play kickball at recess, insisting that my tennis shoes from Payless were trash, and I should work harder on growing my hair out––and some boobs––to help cover up the fact that I have a boy’s name. Any of this ringing a bell?”
The blood drains from his face while it seems all of mine has rushed to the surface, turning me into a giant red tomato.
“Shiiiiiiit,” he mumbles under his breath.
The reverberating sound of Levi’s hand slapping down on Conner’s shoulder is the only noise in the whole place, echoing louder than a cracking whip in the silent bakery.
“Let me walk you out.” Levi doesn’t give him a choice. He simply shoves Conner out the door with the pink box still in his hands.
Once he’s officially taken out the trash, Levi rounds the counter without asking for permission and pulls me into a hug behind the register.
“You’re a badass, Charlie. You were a badass in elementary school for putting up with his shit, and you’re a badass right now for standing up to him and telling him to go to hell.”
My emotions flood through me from all sides, but I try to force a thick swallow to keep them in check.
“Thanks,” I choke out, wrapping my arms around his waist.
“Listen. I know how much you hate the guy, but I promise he’s not who you remember. He was a dick in grade school, but then he moved away and got some better friends who were good influences on him. I’m not saying that what he did to you was okay; I’m just saying that even if he comes in here every day from now on, you don’t have to worry about him being a jerk to you ever again. And if he is, you call me. We clear?”
Sniffing, I nod against his warm chest. “Yup. Crystal.”
“Good. Now, where’s my chocolate eclair?”
Chapter Six
Levi
After stepping off the elevator and onto Montague Enterprises’s floor, I stride toward my cubicle only to find a contrite Conner leaning against my desk.
When he sees me, his shoulders hunch even more. “I screwed up.”
I want to laugh at the pathetic guy in front of me, but I restrain myself. “Yeah. You kinda did. What were you doing there, anyway?”
“I already told you. I saw the Get Baked box on your desk yesterday. Then, while on my way to work, I saw the sign and figured a cinnamon roll or something sounded good.”
“And that’s it?” I push.
“Yeah. That’s it. I had no idea your friend worked there, and I sure as hell didn’t know that your best friend happened to be the kid I was an ass to in elementary school. Did you know?”
Grabbing my chair, I let the legs roll across the carpet flooring before collapsing into it. “Yeah. I knew. But I didn’t really think you guys would cross paths. And on the off chance that you did, I didn’t think either of you would recognize each other, so it was pointless to worry about it.”
“But she knew we were roommates? And she was cool with that?”
“We might be friends, but she doesn’t own me,” I clarify. “Besides, you’re not the little shit you were back then, and you’ve had my back since college.”
“Speaking of which,” he drops his voice until it’s barely above a whisper. “I need your help.”
My gaze narrows. “No.”
“Come on—”
“Not happening.”
“Please? I just want to make it up to her.”
With a dry laugh, I pick up a blue pen and start rolling it between my fingers. “You don’t understand. Charlie is one of––if not the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. She’s held onto this grudge for the past ten years. What the hell makes you think she’ll let it go for you?”
“I felt something with her, man. I don’t know what it was, but—”
“Let it go, Conner. It’s not happening.”
A sense of unease tightens my lower gut, but I refuse to address where the hell it came from.
Instead, I click the tip of the pen with my thumb as Conner continues his pathetic begging. “Come on, man. Just give me her number––”
Raising my hand, I cut him off. “No. You’re one of my best friends, but I would never betray Charlie like that.”
“Dude, I’ll do anything. I gotta see how this thing between us plays out.”
“It’s already been played. And you lost. Now get back to work. I’ve got shit to do.”
Clenching his jaw, Conner presses himself up from the desk and disappears down the hall. I know I pissed him off by refusing to hand out Charlie’s number, but I honestly don’t give a shit. Besides, Charlie’s not into dating. And even if she was, she could do so much better than Asshat Conner Daniels.
The next week goes by in a chaotic blur. Rubbing my eyes, I stare at an official document on my desk then glance at my cell that’s been pushed aside.
Before I can be a coward and talk myself out of it, I dial my mom’s number. It rings for a solid ten seconds before her tired voice echoes through the speakers.
“Hey, baby. How are you?”
“I’m good, Mom. Have you gotten the results back from the MRI yet?”
“Well, we haven’t proceeded with the MRI.”
“Why not?” I ask, pinching the bridge of my nose as a migraine threatens to take over. I need a break. I need my mom to be healthy. I need her medical bills to disappear. I need the awkward silence that’s been my constant companion around Conner to go away. And I need another damn eclair.
“There have been some issues with the insurance, so the doctors are trying to figure out how we should move forward.”
“Mom.” My tone is sharp, and I take a deep breath to keep myself from snapping at her any further. “If you need the MRI for the doctors to diagnose you properly, then you need the MRI. Screw what the insurance company is willing to pay.”
“Honey.” The sound of her soft sigh almost breaks me. “I can’t afford to pay for the MRI out of pocket, but I’m in good hands. We’re figuring out how to move forward, so don’t worry about me. How’s your new little project going?”
“It’s fine,” I grit out, glancing back down at the jumbled numbers scattered around my desk. “Look. I know you don’t want to talk about it and that you don’t want me taking care of you. But we need to do what’s best for your health. And if that means paying for shit out of pocket, then that’s what we’re going to do. Schedule whatever tests need to be done. I don’t care if I have to move back into my childhood bedroom to help cover the cost. We’re going to get this figured out, okay?”