Bonnie Lawrence had always believed that she was destined for one thing: to be forgotten.
When a demon attempts to murder her for this very reason-she starts to resent that statement.
And the two men that saved her may just have the answers to her...
AN:// Hi!!!!! Hope some of you are still reading (especially you Nadine my biggest supporter on here!!) A little delayed because I wrote a chapter of a different story to be submitted for Wattpad's werewolf romance pitch fest, but here's the new chapter finally!
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"Are you sure you're okay to be back at work?"
Bonnie blinked, shaking her head as she pulled her gaze from the white tile above her and over to Isabel, who stood with her arms crossed. For a moment, she thought it might be concern on her features, but as her expression became more scrutinising, she pushed the thought from her mind.
"Yeah, I'm grand. Just got a little distracted," she replied easily, hoping her memory of the demon didn't show. There was a reason she wasn't working nights anymore.
Isabel looked up at the spot on the ceiling, her confusion clear as she stared at the fresh white paint.
"I can see that—that's why I asked." She clicked her tongue. "Clearly the knock to your head caused some damage if that's interesting."
Bonnie wanted to laugh. How had she gone from summoning angels to being back at the bottom of the food chain? Nothing quite like hostility and hospitality to keep you humble.
"Maybe," Bonnie sighed with a shrug of her shoulders. "Guess I better go in the back for a bit where the tiles won't distract me."
Before Isabel could open her pouted lips to disagree, Bonnie turned and strode from the cafe, offering a small smile to customers that she passed along the way.
Isabel could handle three orders—as she constantly reminded her, she was the one in charge. It was time she did some work too.
Bonnie found solace in the stockroom; in amongst the stacked boxes and unrefrigerated condiments that lined the shelves, it was easy for her to feel at ease. After all, this is what she was truly destined for—wasn't it?
It had been two weeks since she'd heard a word from Gremory, and she'd spent every day here, distracting herself.
It shouldn't have surprised her. Even though he swore it wasn't goodbye, she knew it had been. She'd been on borrowed time, given a life for a week in a story so incredible that there was no way she had a place in it. They would leave her behind to age with the ketchup splatters on the furniture, and the oil that clogged up the drains.
Absentmindedly her fingers wove paper straws in and out of eachother, creating knots that bundled her frustration together in irritating wisps of memory before throwing them to the ground.
It depressed her to think how easily she retorted back to this life, albeit the day shift instead of night. Manakel was right in saying that self doubt was the worst weakness.
Had it all been a figment of her imagination? Was she losing her mind piece by piece and trying to fill the gaps with ideas of angels and demons?
She had always had a creative brain, but perhaps Isabel was right and the knock to her head unlodged the part keeping her sane.
