Page 166 of Faking the Goal

She nods casually.

I stare at her. "You're going back there?"

Her shoulders drop a little. "I have to."

"Trouble, after what happened last night—"

"I know." She rubs her thumb along the edge of her mug, her eyes staying on it instead of me. "Believe me, going back there tonight is pretty much the last thing I want to do. I'm probably going to spend the entire shift looking over my shoulder and wondering if every guy who walks through the door is him." She lets out a quiet breath. "But I need to work, Ken-chan. I don't really get to choose based on what I feel like doing right now."

That takes some of the fight out of me, but not nearly enough.

"So you're just going to keep working there and hope he doesn't show up again?"

Her eyes lift. "What else am I supposed to do?"

"Stay away from that place until the police figure out who he is."

"And then how do I pay rent? My bills?"

"I'll help you figure something else out."

Her expression closes almost immediately. "No."

"For fuck's sake, Trouble—"

"I said no." She doesn't sound angry so much as exhausted, which somehow makes it worse. She lets out a frustrated sigh and looks down at her mug again. "I don't want to go. I really don't. But being scared doesn't pay my bills, so for now I just have to endure it."

My jaw clenches because every fucking part of me hates that answer.

Across the table, Mom's eyes have been moving quietly between the two of us as the argument picks up, and I can practically see her deciding when she's had enough.

Apparently, that moment is now.

"What about here?"

Taylor and I both turn toward her.

Mom looks at Taylor as if she's been sitting on the most obvious solution in the world. "Come work at the Sakura café."

I look at Mom. I hadn't expected her to suggest that, but I'm completely on board with it.

"We've actually been looking for someone to help out around the café," Mom says.

Taylor shakes her head almost immediately. "No. I couldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because..." She hesitates, her fingers curling around her mug. "Look, I really appreciate it, but I don't want you giving me a job because my life is currently a disaster. I don't want to be somebody's charity case."

I let out a quiet sigh. I should've known she'd shut the idea down the second Mom offered. Taylor would rather work herself into the ground and keep walking into a place where her stalker could be waiting for her than accept anything that made her feel like she needed saving.

"Oh, sweetheart, no." Mom shakes her head. "It's nothing like that. We really do need someone. The girl who was helping with inventory quit a few weeks ago, and we've been falling behind ever since."

Taylor's expression eases slightly, but she still looks skeptical.

"We need someone to keep track of the inventory, unpack the new deliveries, organize the stockroom, put the new books out..." Mom starts counting the tasks off on her fingers. "There's always something that needs to be done, and right now I'm doing most of it myself. So you wouldn't be doing me a favor by letting me give you a job. You'd be doing me a favor by taking it."

Taylor presses her lips together, and I can tell she's considering it now, but apparently not fast enough for Mom.