Sent.

I put the computer back into sleep mode and glanced at my watch. It was eleven. I couldn't remember the last time I placed the produce order that early, and I was damn certain I'd never placed that order and the poultry order on the same day. There was time left in the day that wasn't there before. Some mornings—like this one—that was a good thing. Some mornings it wasn't.

"I should have hired someone a long time ago," I told myself with a sigh and dragged my hands down my tired face.

Sloan was only helping in the mornings with prep work, but a few weeks in and she was catching on faster than I could have hoped. Every single thing I taught her got me one step closer to walking away from this place. She was smart—really fucking smart. Yeah, she gave me lip ninety-five percent of the time, but I could deal with that. Sloan was a feisty thing in the kitchen and wasn't allowing any of the guys to give her a hard time. Anything they dished at her, she was giving it back and then some. Maybe they thought I couldn't hear them laughing, but I did. It always ended the moment I walked back into the room. I preferred the staff with their noses down and focused on work. Someday, if this plan worked, it would be hers, and the kitchen needed to respect her.

I spun my phone on the desk, wondering what life away from here would be like. No Mikah, no more memories in Mulligan's, no need to avoid the office at the bottom of the stairs, no Shelby...

I exhaled with that thought. Was that possible? To finally give up hope that she'd come back? It was one of the main reasons I wanted away from here... and soon. And away meant where? Nowhere near Chicago; that was for sure.

The phone lit and buzzed beneath my palm, causing another exhale. There was little doubt it was another text from my mother, verified by tilting the screen and seeing her number. Using my thumb, I swiped the screen to read them, even though I knew exactly what the subject was going to be.

New Message: Mom (Cell):
You haven't said yes, but you haven't said no. I'm expecting you on Thanksgiving and Christmas.

New Message: Mom (Cell): I'm disappointed in you. Maybe Mikah and Kit don't enjoy being here either. Ever think of that? They still come to be with their family.

My throat threatened to close in on itself. I darkened the screen, feeling nauseated. I needed a cigarette.

From the top of the fridge, I pulled down the carton of Marlboros and then pulled a single package free. I'd probably smoke two before starting in the kitchen for the day—one for each holiday that I now needed an excuse for. One cigarette went to the corner of my mouth, with the other tucked safely behind my ear.

As I descended the iron stairs, I knew that getting out of both holidays was dreaming. There was just no way. I'd have to pick one, and the longer I held off on it, the better—meaning I would have to show up for Christmas Eve. That worked better anyway, since Mikah wouldn't be there until Christmas Day. I'd just have to tackle Christmas Eve when it came. Thanksgiving was two days away, and I could fake the flu if Sloan could handle the kitchen for a day. I had faith in her to do that if we kept the menu simple enough. We could do a stew or something simple, keeping a limited menu because of the holiday.

I rounded the bottom of the stairs and patted the pocket of my pants, feeling them flatten. "Fuck!"

With one look, I glanced up the steps and decided it wasn't worth it to run back up them for a lighter. I put the cigarettes into my palm, knowing I'd have to hide them before grabbing a lighter from the kitchen. Mikah mocking me about smoking wasn't high on the priority list right now, and it really didn't look good to customers either, even if there were currently only two booths filled with patrons.

Mikah paid me no mind, and I returned the same attitude towards him. We had nothing to talk about, and that meant this day might be salvageable after my mother's texts.

The kitchen wasn't busy. Mulligan's never was the week of Thanksgiving. The next few days, the staff would be cut in half, which they never minded during the holiday season. Sloan, however, requested being left on as many shifts as she could. No one fought her on that. With classes being on hold for holiday break, she had been working longer hours than anyone.

Today, there was no laughter coming from the kitchen. It actually sounded like a day where I was in charge—a notable contrast compared to how it had been lately. Sloan's knife was hitting the cutting board hard, and I knew instantly something with her was off. Her cheek was caved in, making it look as if she was biting at it.

I removed the miniature culinary torch from the wall to take out to the alley with me, but stopped when I got close to the new chef. She said nothing and kept chopping, not even acknowledging that I was standing beside her. She was cutting potatoes for the truffle fries—her favorite thing on the menu to make and eat. Not today; today something was wrong.

"Take it easy on the potatoes. What did they do to you?"

Sloan's knife slammed down to the counter. She took a step back, still unwilling to look away from the vegetable in front of her. The joke I had made had quite the opposite effect of what I was aiming for. Some days, I enjoyed pissing her off a little. This wasn't pissed, though. This was something else.

"What's..."

"I need a break," she whispered, so softly that I was sure she was telling herself and not me.

"Okay?" I questioned, watching her blinks increase in speed. "The potatoes can wait..."

The sentence wasn't even out of my mouth before she was rushing to the alley door and pulling her jacket off. She tossed it to the hook where it didn't catch. Instead, it fell to the floor, where she left it in her rush. I received a few shrugs from the guys, who obviously had felt the change in the room, too. The one time I wanted them to speak, they all went silent. Useless.

"Todd, take over the potatoes," I said, unsure if my newest chef had fled the premises completely or just needed air.

Sloan didn't have a coat on, and Lake Michigan wind had been ruthless all week. Chicago was on the verge of its first yearly snowfall. I didn't see where she had brought a coat with her today; so, I grabbed mine and didn't put it on. There was a knit cap and gloves in the pockets if needed.

I opened the door to the alley and spotted Sloan immediately. She hadn't gone far and had been smart enough to place herself near the duct where hot air was escaping from the restaurant's linen dryer. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her legs with her head bowed. I knew the signs of those deep breaths she was taking, having taken quite a few of them out here myself.

I didn't know if she wanted to be alone or not, but would not give her the option to choose either. Stupidity wouldn't play a factor here—there was one reason she was like this today, and it was something to do with Steve and her depression. I dropped myself beside her and then covered her with my coat, which she instantly pulled to her chin.

"Sorry," she whispered, as if someone else would hear us. There wasn't another person in sight. "It won't happen again."

I rubbed my icy hands together for a little more heat, resting my elbows on my knees. "It's okay if it does."

She sighed. I understood more than she knew. The bad days didn't exactly give you warning. They were not something that you could plan around on a calendar—except for Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve, in my case.

"If you..." I stopped myself, not knowing if I should finish the sentence.

Sloan and I were on good terms, but our history was a little fucked up. I was ruthless towards her and was about to offer an ear if she wanted to talk. That wasn't really part of whatever this one-night-stand, student/teacher, co-worker relationship was.

But when Sloan looked up to hear what I was going to say, and I saw just how empty and tired she looked today, I couldn't stop myself. "Want to talk about it? Is that something that helps?"

"I..." She hugged her knees tighter and stared blankly down the alley. "I don't know. I don't talk about it." Her head shook no as she said, "I've never..."

That was fine. I could sit here with her and not talk too.

"Can I ask you something personal?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Sure."

Sloan cocked her head and placed her cheek on her shoulder. Her bangs tumbled into her face—something that annoyed the fuck out of me in the kitchen but found oddly cute as she watched me.

"You said a girl fucked you up."

I forced a smile that lasted all of a few seconds and clutched my hands together. I had mentioned Shelby to Sloan in a moment of weakness, and somehow, I knew she would be brought up. If Sloan hadn't learned of my breakup from the guys in the kitchen by now, it would be nice to control the gossip before it happens.

"I fucked up first," I said, taking the initial blame. "I chose work over her, thinking that her threats of leaving me would stay just that... threats. Until one day I came home and her shit was gone."

Shelby didn't understand the life of a chef. You get in while you're young, travel the world, work your ass off, and it doesn't pay off until you get your own restaurant. I worked twice as hard, took more classes, worked more hours, traveled any time I could, and left Shelby at home. She was ignored. I didn't blame her for needing out. It didn't mean that I didn't still love her.

"How long did you two date?"

"Since we were fifteen. She, uh, moved to the farm across the road. My siblings were closer in age to each other, and I focused on our farm. When she moved in, that changed."

Sloan nodded and shifted her head so that her chin was now on her right knee. It was cold out, but she didn't seem to mind.

"What about you and your husband?"

"You know he wasn't really my husband."

"You married him, and you loved him. I'd say that's a husband."

Her jaw quivered, but she stopped and collected herself with another deep breath. Maybe I shouldn't have asked. She said she didn't talk about this with anyone, and I was prying.

"Young," she finally answered. "There were four of us around the same age in a group home. Hallie, TJ, Steve and me. We were split for a bit. Hallie and TJ went to a school together, and Steve and I did too. Hallie and TJ eventually were adopted by two different families while Steve and I were in and out of foster care. We were best friends, but nothing happened between us until after the wedding. It was too late after that."

I couldn't stop my lips from curling downward. I turned away to hide it from her, knowing how pity just made things worse.

"How old was he?"

"A month shy of twenty-two."

Jesus, he was a kid.

"I'm so sorry." They were words I was saying a lot to her lately, and I knew they meant nothing to her.

"You didn't do it." Sloan shrugged. "Cancer sucks. Insurance companies suck even more. They caught it in stage two. It was treatable. Work fired him because he was too sick, and we couldn't get him on my insurance fast enough. No one was going to pick up a policy with a pre-existing condition. Especially lung cancer. Basically, we married and got him hospice care."

Stupidity washed over me, and I began mentally cursing the cigarettes in my pocket. Her tossing them into puddles and ripping them to shreds made a little more sense now. It was one thing to dislike smokers and another to hate that they were willingly breathing something deadly into their lungs. Yet a kid who likely did nothing to instigate his diagnosis died from cancer.

My mouth turned sour at the thought of lighting one up out here.

"You didn't really answer my question, you know?" Sloan said. "Your girlfriend left, but you didn't get her back?"

I shook my head. "She moved on about a week later."

"Ouch." Sloan's face scrunched, causing me to chuckle over a subject that had never once made me laugh.

"Yeah."

"How long ago was that?"

"Almost two years." It felt like a lot longer to me. It felt like a lifetime since I held Shelby in my arms. "I, uh, found out she had a new boyfriend during my dad's funeral, and I couldn't handle it. I was bad for a while. Too many blows at once."

"Oh." Sloan sat up straight. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you lost your dad..."

I held up my hand, shaking my head. The discussion needed to end there. "Not your fault, either. It just... it wasn't the time or place for it. I see her often and it's hard. I spent more than half my life with someone."

"I get that," Sloan said, agreeing.

She shivered with a blast of cold air. I couldn't blame her. I was freezing my ass off, too. In a move that I wasn't expecting, Sloan expanded the coat to cover us both. I looked back to the door, hoping no one intruded on us while Sloan needed a few more minutes to collect herself.

"What triggered today?" I asked, careful not to push her too hard.

I had days like this too, and it was never nothing that would set it off. For me, it was nightmares. Sometimes it was more than that; sometimes it was something Shelby would say, or something with the business that would trigger it. It was easy and very unhealthy to turn it into rage. Smoking and anger... my coping mechanism.

"Todd asked if I was bringing my husband to the holiday party." She giggled. A sniffle followed it and had her gliding a cheek over my coat. "Stupid, right? It was a simple question, and all I had to do was say that I wasn't married. The answer got stuck, and I panicked. He just needed a head count, because his girls are making cupcakes."

I felt like a piece of shit for not warning the staff. Who would think that someone this young was a widow? Shit, I couldn't even imagine being divorced at twenty-two. The way she said it, though... it implied that Todd knew she had been married. One other person would know that, and it was Mikah. He likely caught the tail end of the conversation with Hallie. I hated Mikah, but even I knew it was an honest mistake. The holiday party for staff was a big deal and always had been. It definitely wasn't something I enjoyed anymore, but others did, and understandably so.

"I can talk to them. Would that help?"

"I'm just not going to go," Sloan said. "Easier to say zero than explain my shit-show of a life. I'm not good at those kinds of things, anyway. Family things."

I couldn't agree more. I still didn't want her to be left out. The staff really enjoyed it and everyone was loving the addition to the kitchen.

"Doesn't have to be a spouse, Sloan. It's an excuse to get drunk on my dime. Bring your friend Hallie and enjoy yourselves."

For the first time this morning, Sloan's smile was genuine. The sight of it allowed me to breathe a little easier. It didn't stop that impending doom of the holidays with my family, but this got my mind off of it for a few minutes at least. Maybe hearing how shitty life could get so fast should have made me want to see my family this week, but it didn't. If I was really honest, I could tolerate Mikah over Thanksgiving. He wasn't the issue. Knowing my mom would call me on my bullshit, I quickly sent off a text using stiff fingers to my mom—informing her I hadn't felt well this week and that I would see her on Christmas Eve for sure. It wasn't far from the truth; it had been eating at me and making me feel sick.

"I'm not ready to go back in," Sloan said, admittingly. "I burst into tears a lot and this stopped it. I'm still on edge, though."

"You take as long as you need. Todd hates making fries. It's good for him."

I dropped my legs out straight and offered Sloan the hat I brought along with the coat. She accepted it, putting it over her bandana, followed by a goofy smile that made me laugh. The blue knit hat was huge on her and refused to stay above her eyes. She giggled after a few failed attempts with it. I tugged it down a little further in the back and lifted the fold in the front a little higher, finding a beautiful set of soft, green eyes beneath.

"This really helped. Guess talking works for you... eh, chef?" Her smirk was cute.

"Guess so." I shrugged, feeling warmer with the smile she'd caused me to break into. "Never tried it before today."