Page 75 of Thorns and Ashes
I take it from his hand slowly, ringing in the order, but my confusion over his good humor about this wins out, and before handing him back the card, I need to know.
“You’re not angry about all of this?”
“Angry that someone has my crew runnin’ scared and sharing their shortened orders amongst themselves each shift?” He laughs, bringing his hand to his stomach. “Except for Maria, who rightfully refuses to play along, I’ve watched those guys split up their sandwiches like they’re middle schoolers being bullied on the playground every shift for a month, and I have to say, it’s the most entertaining thing I’ve seen in a long time.”
The image he paints brings a small smile of satisfaction to my face.
“I don’t know what he did to piss you off, Tris, but my guess is he’s being stubborn, and you have every right to let him know it. The Captain needs a lesson or two in how to get along with others, and though this month definitely hasn’t made him anyone’s favorite person to be around, I wanted you to know, you’re wearin’ him down.”
Ainsley brings me their order, and I hand him the bag.
“Thanks for letting me know, Chief.” I smile back at him as he takes the bag and nods his head.
As he’s about to turn away, his eyes dart past my shoulder, and he does a double-take. His brows come down as he narrows his gaze like he’s searching for something, or someone. A look of hope flashes quickly behind his eyes before he closes them and shakes his head clear of it, opening them again.
“Everything alright, Chief Mason?” I follow his gaze to the door of the back room.
“Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat. “Thought I saw someone.”
“Right,” I drawl, waving goodbye and barely waiting until he’s gone before I head to the back.
Just as I expect, Rory’s standing on the other side of the door, back flat against the wall like she’s playing a game of hide and seek with her eyes closed shut.
“Oh, yeah.” I cross my arms as my shoulders bounce with laughter, and I shake my head.
Ainsley follows behind me. “I think it’s ‘bout time you explain yourself, lil’ lady.”
Rory peeks one eye open and ping-pongs it between the two of us. “Do I have to?”
“Yes!” We both say simultaneously, ready for whatever little secret Rory has been keeping to herself all these months.
Chapter Seventeen
Levi
Billy walks through the open doors of the bay holding everyone’s food, but when he avoids my eyes, I already know mine isn’t there. My eyes still on the back of Billy’s head, I finish packing my overnight bag, jamming the rest of my clothes and gear inside it. With a frustrated grunt, I pull the zipper shut, nearly breaking it in the process, and hear the chief laugh. I turn my head from Billy to look at him across the table.
“You find it funny that your Captain hasn’t worked a single shift all month with a real lunch?” I drop the bag beside my chair and turn my body to face him.
“I find it funny that my Captain is punishing himself for whatever mistake he made,” he throws back at me as Billy and Mark hand me half of their sandwiches.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I quip, picking at the scraps of my crew’s lunch, lip turned up.
Chief leans back in his seat, laying out on the table not his full lunch but also bonus desserts that someone added. As I watch, he takes a bite of his sandwich, savoring it slowly.
“I’m saying if this was actually about you being hungry, you would have started packing your lunches already. But instead you continue with this charade, hoping whatever it is that happened will blow over, and probably somehow relieve you of whatever it is you’re feeling once it does, instead of confronting your problem head-on.”
I stare at him, brows turned down, pulling at the beard on my face.
He must sense my silent question because slowly his lip twitches up to the side. He makes me wait, finishing his mouthful completely and making a show of wiping his mouth with a napkin before filling me in. “I spent a long part of my marriage avoiding the problems we had instead of fixing them. I’m basically an expert on what not to do. That’s how I know you messed up, and whatever this is, it’s bigger than a sandwich.”
“It’s nothing,” I grunt.
Everyone at the table pauses briefly, looking at me like I must be delusional, and they’re right.
Angela, who’s covering Maria’s shift, whistles. “Men.”
“Hey, we’re not all like that,” Mark argues, but she just drops her chin and stares at him before returning to her meal with a shake of her head.
