Chapter 11: Breaking point

Saturday morning at The Greasy Spoon is loud, hot, and smells of old frying oil. I like it that way. When the diner is packed, I don't have to think. I just move. I pour coffee, clear plates, and ignore the ache in my feet. Here, I am not the girl being stalked. I am just Table Four’s breakfast order.

Then the bell above the door rings, and the air in the room seems to freeze.

I don’t have to look up to know who it is. The laughter is too polished, the voices too confident. I keep my head down, scrubbing a dried egg yolk stain off a counter, but my heart starts to thud against my ribs.

"Look at this place," Chloe’s voice drifts across the room, dripping with disdain. "I didn't know they still made restaurants out of wood and sadness."

I watch from the corner of my eye as the group slides into the large corner booth—my section. Chloe is in the middle, looking like a queen in her designer athletic gear. Next to her is Miller, and then, finally, Jaxson.

He looks different here. He is wearing a dark hoodie, his jaw set tight. He doesn't look like he wants to be there. He looks like a man sitting on a ticking bomb.

"Maya! Service!" the cook yells from the window.

I grab my order pad, my fingers trembling. I walk over to the booth. I do not look at Jaxson. I can’t. I keep my eyes on the little yellow lines of the paper.

"What can I get for you?" I ask. My voice sounds small and brittle.

"Oh, it is you," Chloe says, leaning back and looking me up and down. She lingers on my stained apron and the hairnet tucked behind my ears. "I heard a rumor, Maya. Someone says they saw a girl who looks just like you sneaking around the gym at night. Probably looking for something else to steal, right? First the charm, now... what? Hockey sticks?"

The table erupts in snickers. Miller lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Maybe she was just looking for a better outfit, Chloe."

I stand there, frozen. I feel like I am standing in a spotlight. I look at Jaxson. Please, I think. Say something. Don't let them do this.

Jaxson does not look up. He is staring at the Formica tabletop, his large hands flat against the surface. I see his knuckles turn white. I see the way his chest is heaving with slow, heavy breaths like someone struggling with something. There's visible battle in his eyes.

"I asked what you want to eat," I say, my voice louder now, though it shakes.

"I’ll have the fruit bowl," Chloe says, her voice turning sharp. "And make sure it’s fresh. I don't want any of the garbage you usually serve to people like... well, people like you."

"Yeah, and bring me some extra napkins," one of the hockey players adds, flicking a sugar packet at my apron. It hits me and falls to the floor. "I don't want to get grease on my jacket. It costs more than your house."

I look at Jaxson again. He is clenching his fists so hard I think the table might crack. He is the King of this group. If he says one word, they will stop. But he stays silent. He stays loyal to his friends.

I feel a sharp sting in my chest. I remember the deal. In the school, I protect you. Outside... we are nothing. That is what he had said. But seeing him sit there while they treat me like dirt makes the deal feel like a lie even though it was just for inside school. I think about Leo. I think about how Jaxson watched his friends break my brother’s life. He is doing it again. He is watching.

I turn to walk away, my eyes blurred with hot, angry tears.

SLAM.

The sound is like a gunshot. I spin around.

Jaxson has slammed both of his hands onto the table. The salt and pepper shakers jump. A glass of water tips over, spilling across the booth. The entire diner goes silent. Even the cook stops scraping the grill.

"That's enough!" Jaxson roars.

Chloe flinches, her mouth falling open. "Jax? What—"

"Shut up, Chloe!" He stands up, his massive frame towering over the table. He looks down at his friends with a look of pure, unadulterated disgust. "You think you’re funny? You think it’s cool to come into someone’s job and treat them like they aren't even human?"

"We were just joking around, man," Miller says, his hands raised in a defensive gesture. "Take it easy."

"No," Jaxson growls. He turns his gaze to the player who threw the sugar packet. "Pick that up. Now."

The boy looks at Jaxson’s face, sees the absolute rage there, and slowly reaches down to pick up the packet.

Jaxson looks at me. Our eyes meet but he looks away shame creeping inside them. He looks like he wants to reach out and take the tray from my hands, but he stays where he is, his breathing heavy.

"Order your food and be quiet," Jaxson tells the group. His voice is low and terrifying. "Or get out. I’m not sitting here while you act like trash."

He sits back down, but he does not look at them. He keeps his eyes fixed on the napkin dispenser. The rest of the group sits in a stunned, awkward silence. Chloe looks like she has been slapped. Miller is staring at Jaxson with a strange, calculating look in his eyes.

I hurry back to the kitchen, my heart feeling like it is trying to escape my chest. I lean against the cold metal of the prep table, my breath coming in short gasps.

"Whoa," my co-worker Sarah whispers, peering through the window. "I thought Thorne was a jerk. But that... that was something else, Maya. He looks like he’s ready to go to war for you."

"He’s not," I whisper, but the lie feels heavy in my mouth.

I look at my hands. They are still shaking, but the anger is gone. It is replaced by a terrifying warmth. I shake my head when I realize that the wall I built around my heart—the wall made of Leo’s pain and my own fear—is smashed to pieces.

I am falling for him. I am falling for the boy who watched my brother break. I am falling for the enemy who just chose me over his own kingdom.

I look back through the window. I catch him glancing towards the window. To my direction.