Two weeks in paradise doesn't prepare you for the fluorescent assault of Quick Mart at midnight.
I push through the glass doors at 11:57 PM, my teal uniform already clinging to my skin in a way that feels foreign after days of swimming trunks and nothing else. The air conditioning hits me like a slap, raising goosebumps on my arms. Emily wanted me to take another week off, but I couldn't shake the guilt of leaving them short-staffed any longer, even if my manager believed the back injury story she'd spun.
The familiar smell of hot dogs rotating on their eternal spit and industrial floor cleaner fills my nostrils. Home sweet home, I guess. Except everything looks slightly different, like I'm seeing it through a filter. The Caribbean sun must have rewired something in my brain, because even the dingy tile floor seems duller than I remember.
I'm halfway to the employee door when movement at the register catches my eye.
My feet stop working.
Sienna Fox stands behind the counter, her blonde curls pulled into a messy ponytail, wearing that same teal vest I've got on. She's scanning something for a customer, her brown eyes focused on the register screen, completely unaware that my entire world just tilted sideways.
What the fuck is she doing here?
My heart hammers against my ribs like it's trying to escape. Sienna Fox. The girl I spent four years of high school desperately crushing on while she barely knew I existed. The girl who smiled at me exactly three times in senior year, and I replayed each smile in my head for weeks afterward like some pathetic highlight reel.
I shake my head, forcing myself to breathe. I have Emily now. Emily's even hotter too, and that thought works like a circuit breaker, shutting down whatever residual high school bullshit was trying to fire up in my brain. The weird flutter in my chest dies instantly, replaced by something calmer. More real.
I start walking toward the employee door again, and that's when Sienna's eyes flick up from the register. Her whole face brightens with recognition.
"Hey!" she calls out, finishing with her customer before turning fully toward me. "You're Daniel Anderson, right? I thought I recognized your name on the schedule."
My hand pauses on the employee door handle. "Yeah," I say, then catch myself. "Well, Daniel Sampson now."
Sienna's brow furrows, confusion flickering across her features. "Wait, what?" She tilts her head slightly, those brown eyes studying me with more attention than they ever gave me in four years of high school. "You changed your last name?"
"Got married," I say, and the words feel surreal coming out of my mouth. Like I'm playing a character in a movie about someone else's life. "Took my wife's name."
Her eyes drop to my left hand, landing on the simple silver band that Emily insisted on buying before we left Curaçao. The confusion on Sienna's face deepens, mixing with something that might be surprise or disbelief.
"You're married?" she asks, her voice climbing an octave. "We graduated like... Not even a full year ago."
"Yeah." I shrug, trying to play it casual even though my heart rate is picking up again for entirely different reasons. Talking about Emily makes something warm unfurl in my chest. "Met the right person, I guess."
Sienna leans against the counter, her ponytail swishing as she shakes her head. A smile plays at her lips, but there's something calculating behind it. "Wow. Daniel Anderson, sorry, Sampson, all grown up and married."
I nod, already mentally checking out of this conversation.
"You were the quiet kid, right?" she continues, and there's something in her tone I can't quite place. "Always sitting in the back, never talked to anyone?"
"That was me," I confirm, my hand tightening on the door handle. "Anyway, I should probably clock in."
"Totally," Sienna says, that smile widening in a way that makes her whole face light up.
I push through the employee door and make my way to the time clock, punching in exactly three minutes before midnight.
When I emerge from the back, I walk behind the register where Sienna's still standing. She's organizing a display of scratch-off lottery tickets, her fingers moving with practiced efficiency.
"Are you out of here now?" I ask, assuming her shift ends at midnight.
She glances up, shaking her head. "Nope. They want two overnight people now."
"That's insane," I say, genuinely surprised. Quick Mart doesn't get many customers between midnight and six AM. Having two people here seems like a massive waste of payroll.
Sienna shrugs, sliding the last row of tickets into place. "It's what the boss wants."
I laugh, the sound coming out more bitter than I intend. "Well, it's their money."
She nods, then moves to lean against the counter, those brown eyes studying me again with that same intensity from earlier. "It's so boring overnight, isn't it?"
"Yeah," I agree, thinking about all those shifts I spent alone, counting ceiling tiles and refreshing the hot dog rollers every hour like clockwork.
"I started overnight since you got injured," Sienna says, and there's something probing in her voice. "How is it? Your back, I mean?"
The lie comes easily. "It's healing quite well."
"You want me to look at it?" Sienna asks, pushing off the counter to stand up straighter.
I blink at her. "What, are you like a med student or something?"
"No." She laughs, and it's this light, airy sound that probably made half the guys in our graduating class write bad poetry. "I don't even go to school."
"Then why would you want to look at it?"
Her smile turns mischievous, and she tilts her head in a way that reminds me of a curious bird. "Because I bet it looks gnarly."
I can't help but laugh. "Oh, you're one of those kind of girls."
"What kind?" she asks, her eyebrows raising in mock offense.
"A girl that likes to look at gross stuff."
Sienna shrugs, completely unapologetic. "I guess so. I'm not squeamish about that kind of thing." She gestures vaguely toward my back. "So? Can I see?"
"No," I say, already turning away from her.
Sienna rolls her eyes in that exaggerated way that somehow makes her look both annoyed and amused at the same time. "Does your wife know you're not elite enough to show your coworkers cool stuff?"
The comment catches me off guard. There's something in her tone that feels like a challenge, like she's testing boundaries she has no business testing.
"My wife thinks I'm cooler than cool," I say, feeling defensive for reasons I can't quite articulate.
Sienna's lips curve into a knowing smile. "Oh, so the missus thinks you're ice cold?"
"Precisely."
A sudden bang against the front window makes us both jump. I spin around, heart hammering, and see a figure standing outside in the parking lot. They're wearing a dark hoodie pulled so far forward that their face is completely hidden in shadow. Just standing there. Watching.
"Who the fuck is that?" I ask, my voice coming out sharper than I intend.
Sienna's expression shifts, recognition dawning across her features. "Oh, that's Holly."
The name hits me like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. My entire body goes rigid.
"What?" The word comes out strangled.
Sienna glances at me, then back to the figure outside. "Yeah, we went to high school together." She taps her chin thoughtfully. "Erin from my cheerleading team told everyone that Holly's mom was fucking her dad. Caused this huge scandal. It was all anyone talked about for like a month."
My stomach drops through the floor. Emily. Erin's dad was one of Emily's clients. The pieces slot together with sickening clarity.
"You know her?" Sienna asks, watching my reaction with curious eyes.
"Huh?" I manage, my brain still reeling.
"Holly. Do you know her? You look like you've seen a ghost."
I exhale slowly, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on my chest. "It's a long story," I say, already moving toward the door. "I'll go talk to her."
Sienna opens her mouth like she wants to ask more questions, but I'm already pushing through the glass doors into the humid night air. The fluorescent lights from Quick Mart cast long shadows across the parking lot as I approach Holly's figure.
As I get closer, details emerge from the darkness that make my stomach clench. Her wire-rimmed glasses are taped together at the center with what looks like medical tape. But that's not what stops me cold.
Bruises. Dark purple and yellow, fading but still visible, covering the left side of her face. Her lip looks like it was split and recently healed. There's another bruise peeking out from under her collar.
"Jesus Christ," I breathe, stopping a few feet away from her. "What the hell happened to you?"
Holly's blue eyes, so much like Emily's but completely devoid of warmth, lock onto mine. "Did my mom do this to me?"
The question hits me like a physical blow. "What?"
"Answer me." Her voice is flat, emotionless in a way that's somehow more disturbing than if she'd been screaming. "Did my mother have me jumped?"
My mind reels, trying to process what she's saying. "A few days after my mom kicked me out," Holly continues, her words measured and precise, "I got jumped by a bunch of thug-looking men in masks. They beat the shit out of me and then just left me where they found me."
"There's no way," I say, shaking my head firmly. "Your mom wouldn't do something like that. She doesn't even have connections to people who would."
Holly steps closer, closing the distance between us in the harsh fluorescent glow spilling from Quick Mart's windows. Her fingers reach up to touch my face, cold against my skin.
"Poor Daniel," she murmurs, her voice dripping with something between pity and mockery. "The timing is just convenient, isn't it?"
I jerk back from her touch like she's burned me. Her hand drops, and I catch the flash of annoyance that crosses her bruised face.
"So you don't think she did it?" Holly asks, her tone flat.
"Honestly? No." The words come out more certain than I feel. Emily wouldn't. She couldn't. Could she?
Holly shakes her head slowly, and something in her expression makes my blood run cold. "My mother told me she'd kill me if I came between you two again."
"I don't believe you," I say immediately, but my voice wavers.
She just stares at me. Her blue eyes boring into mine with an intensity that makes me want to look away. The silence stretches between us, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the buzz of the convenience store lights.
"I only did the things I did to you because I love you," Holly says quietly.
The words make bile rise in my throat. "I have to go back to work, Holly."
"Fine." She turns away, already pulling her hood back up. But she pauses, glancing back over her shoulder. "See you around, Dad."
The word hits me like a slap as I watch her walk away into the darkness of the parking lot, her figure disappearing into the shadows between streetlights.
My hands are shaking when I push back through the glass doors. The air conditioning feels arctic now, raising goosebumps across every inch of my skin.
Sienna's at the register, watching me with undisguised curiosity. "Everything okay? You look like you're about to puke."
I take a deep breath, forcing my features into something resembling composure. The shaking in my hands gradually subsides as I shove them into my pockets.
"Yeah, all better," I manage, my voice steadier than I feel.
Sienna leans against the counter, studying me with those brown eyes that used to make my teenage heart race. Now they just make me tired. "So you're married, right?"
"Yeah." The word comes out flat.
She twirls a strand of blonde hair around her finger, and there's something calculating in the gesture. "Are you fucking Holly on the side?"
The question hits me like a physical blow. My chest tightens, and for a moment I can't breathe. Images flash through my mind unbidden, Holly in the bathroom, the blackmail, the video, everything I've tried so hard to compartmentalize and forget.
I sigh, the sound coming from somewhere deep and exhausted. "No."
Sienna tilts her head, and a strange smile plays at her lips. "That's too bad. She was always cute in high school."
"I'm not a cheater," I say, the words coming out defensive and sharp.
Sienna laughs, this light sound that makes her ponytail bounce. "Fucking doesn't have to be cheating, you know."
The statement hangs in the air between us, and my brain immediately goes to Emily. My escort wife. My beautiful, silver-haired goddess who fucks other men for money and comes home to me afterward. The irony of Sienna's words isn't lost on me.
"What?"
"Me and my boyfriend Zach," Sienna says casually, like she's discussing the weather. "We're swingers and we have an open relationship."
I blink at her, processing this information about my high school crush that I definitely didn't need or want. "Cool," I manage, already turning away to start my shift duties. The coffee machine needs cleaning, and suddenly that seems like the most important task in the world.
"Wait," Sienna calls after me. "You don't have any questions?"
I pause, my hand on the coffee pot. "No?"
"You're not going to tell me I'm weird?" Her voice carries something like surprise. "Or how creepy it is?"
I turn back to face her, genuinely confused by her expectation. "Your life is your business, not mine."
Sienna's entire expression shifts. That calculating look disappears, replaced by something softer, almost pleased. A smile spreads across her face, genuine this time rather than teasing.
"Hmmm," she says, studying me with renewed interest. "You seem to get it."
She nods slowly, like I've passed some test I didn't know I was taking.
I just shrug and go back to the coffee machine, trying to ignore the weight of her gaze on my back.