Salty

Thirty-Six | A Lonely Chef and Her Dumplings

Thirty-Six | Sloan

After being out of work for a week, I really believed I was ready to get back to the grind of the kitchen. I was thankful to see it was a steady night. The more I could keep focused on the task at hand, the better. School had been an absolute drag. Seven hours of sitting in classrooms, and I couldn't remember anything I'd been instructed on. I felt lost.

The crutches I'd been relying on were now placed in the kitchen's corner, beside the time clock. The stitches hadn't been removed yet, but the foot could now take on some slight weight-bearing activities. At some point tonight, I'd have to give in and use the crutches, but for now, I was doing okay. It was easy to forget the discomfort in the heel's bottom when my heart ached this much. I was determined to be okay, though. If I let myself hit rock bottom again, I probably wouldn't have my best friend to rely on this time. There was no way I could put my heartache on Hallie again.

Fake it 'til you make it, I reminded myself as I approached the sink to wash my hands.

There were six people in the room, and it felt completely vacant without Ollie here to give me a hard time. Without his presence, it felt like a completely different space. Three generations of Mulligans cooked from this very spot. Ollie cooking from anywhere else was just wrong. The pictures hanging above the time clock of his dad holding him up to the stove to stir a pot proved that.

"How are you doing, chef?" Mick's hand landed on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"The foot is okay." I gave a half-hearted smile. "Thank you for asking."

The elderly man's head tilted slightly, and he tried to smile back, failing horribly. We both knew that wasn't what he was referring to. Apparently, Ollie and I sucked at keeping our relationship a secret. I peered over my shoulder at everyone else in the room. They were already fixated on me, wanting to know the same thing as Mick.

"I'm fine," I assured my coworkers, suppressing the tears I'd refused to cry in this room. A deep breath was taken before finishing what I wanted them to hear. "I shouldn't be the one back here running this kitchen, and I'm sorry I couldn't get him to stay for all of us."

"You've got this." He gave my shoulder a little shake before releasing it.

This time he managed that smile I didn't know I needed. Mick's reassurance gave my confidence a small boost for the night. Even if he didn't mean it, I needed to hear it. Years away from graduating, Ollie leaving me this legacy was possibly the stupidest thing he'd ever done.

"Thank you," I whispered. It was meant not just for Mick but for the entire kitchen staff, who were now under my command. They all could have fled when they heard the news Ollie had taken off for Seattle. This would have been much worse without all of them.

The door of the kitchen swung open, and my heart nearly leapt through my ribcage until I realized I was looking at the wrong Mulligan brother. Mikah appeared with a fresh haircut—now undeniably a relation to Ollie. The two looked so similar that, for a brief second, I thought Ollie had walked through that door and come back to me. We shared a look that said a lot. He might not get along with his brother, but Mikah felt abandoned, too. His head motioned for me to follow to the bar, and he swung the door back open and held it.

This couldn't be good.

Limping my way to the door, my arms crossed over my stomach protectively. I was going to ask a question I didn't want to know the answer to. "Have you talked to him?"

"I got back from Seattle last night."

"And?"

It seemed like a silly question to ask. I knew the answer. Ollie wasn't here. This wasn't like he was late for a shift. He would not burst through the door on the other side of the restaurant and rush across the floor to me. Mikah's face said it all. Ollie wasn't coming back.