Chapter Text
Otis never thought Ruby Matthews would call him again—let alone at 2:17 AM.
He blinked at his phone screen, wondering if he was still half-dreaming. But no—there it was. Ruby Matthews. And she was calling him. Not texting. Not ignoring him. Calling.
He hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen, before answering.
“Ruby?”
Her voice crackled through the line, sharp but brittle. “About time, Milburn. What took you so long?”
Otis sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “It’s… 2 AM.”
“Is it? Wow, thanks, Sherlock. Look, I need a favor,” Ruby said quickly, her usual confidence a little too forced. “Like, right now.”
Otis frowned, his brain still catching up. “What kind of favor?”
There was a pause on the other end, just long enough for Otis to hear the faint hum of wind through an open window. Ruby sighed, and when she spoke again, her voice was strained but draped in sarcasm.
“My car broke down. In the middle of nowhere. And, no, before you ask, I’m not being dramatic.”
Otis pinched the bridge of his nose. “So… call a tow truck?”
“Oh, brilliant idea! Why didn’t I think of that?” Ruby snapped. “Except, genius, it’s the middle of the night, I’m in the sticks, and every service is closed.”
“Right…” Otis mumbled, still half-asleep but now more awake. “What about—”
“Before you ask, yes, I have friends now. Just not the kind who’ll drop everything and drive out to rescue me at two in the morning. Or, you know, the kind who actually pick up their phone." Ruby’s voice wavered, but she quickly masked it with more sarcasm. “And my mom’s stuck at work, and my dad… yeah, that’s not happening.” She exhaled slowly. “So, Milburn, you’re my last hope. Feels good, doesn’t it?”
Otis stared at the ceiling, contemplating the long, dark ride ahead of him.
“You know I’ll have to bike there, right? I don’t exactly have a car.”
“I know, Otis. I’m not asking for an Uber.” There was a brief silence, then Ruby’s voice softened—just a little. “Look, I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate, okay? But I am. So can you please just… come?”
Otis let out a long breath, already knowing he had no choice. He couldn’t leave Ruby alone on the side of the road, not like this.
“Where are you?” he asked, already kicking off the covers.
“Somewhere between Bridgely and nowhere,” Ruby muttered. “I’ll send you my location. Just… hurry, alright?”
Otis sighed. “You owe me big for this.”
“I’ll buy you a coffee or something,” Ruby said, her sarcasm lighter now, almost playful.
“I meant, like… for life.”
“You wish.” Ruby’s voice was dry, but Otis could hear the relief beneath it. “Just get here. Please.”
The line went dead before he could respond. Otis sat there for a moment, staring at his phone, wondering what kind of mess he was about to ride into.
***
The cold bit into Otis’s cheeks as he pedaled harder, his breath visible in white puffs under the weak glow of his bike’s front light. The world around him was silent—no cars, no pedestrians, just the endless stretch of dark, leaf-covered road and the occasional rustling of branches in the breeze. It was late autumn, and everything felt bleak and lifeless, as though even the trees had given up for the year.
He shivered, pulling his coat tighter around his shoulders as he cursed under his breath. What if he hit a pothole and flew over the handlebars? He could already picture his broken body lying in a ditch, cold and forgotten, until a jogger found him the next morning, stiff and pale. He imagined Jean sobbing, clutching Joy in her arms, guilt written all over her face because she didn’t know he was gone.
“Jesus, Otis,” he muttered aloud, shaking his head as if the cold night air could scatter his thoughts. He wasn’t going to die. But then his mind turned toward Ruby, sitting alone on the side of the road, her car dead and the night stretching out endlessly around her. What if—what if someone else found her before he did? Someone worse. His stomach twisted at the thought. The world wasn’t safe for girls waiting alone in the dark.
He swallowed hard, his legs burning as he kept pedaling. He hated himself for thinking it, but the thought slipped through anyway: If this were Maeve... If Maeve were in trouble... I’d ride to the ends of the earth for her.
The thought lodged itself in his chest, heavy and aching. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about Ruby—he did, more than he wanted to admit. But part of him still wished it was Maeve’s voice on the other end of the line, needing him, counting on him. For all his awkwardness, all his screw-ups, he liked the idea of being a hero—and for so long, that role had belonged to Maeve.
But Maeve wasn’t here. Ruby was. And for all her flaws and snark, she had called him. That counted for something, didn’t it?
His legs burned as the bike rattled over loose stones on the uneven road, and he gritted his teeth against the chill that seeped through his coat and into his bones. He imagined Ruby sitting there, cold and miserable, maybe regretting ever calling him. Would she still be there? What if she got tired of waiting and started walking? What if—
Before he could spiral further, the dim glow of headlights appeared in the distance. There. He spotted the sleek shape of her car parked at an awkward angle on the shoulder of the road. Relief flooded him, though he was too tired to feel it properly.
He rolled to a stop just a few feet from the car, chest heaving, his thighs screaming from the ride. Ruby was leaning against the hood, arms crossed, looking every bit as sulky and irritated as he imagined. She wore a short jacket, which was clearly no match for the freezing night, and her breath puffed out in short, annoyed bursts.
“Finally,” Ruby muttered as she straightened. “What’d you do, stop for a nap?”
Otis slumped over his handlebars, trying to catch his breath. “You’re... welcome,” he gasped, his voice ragged. “I just... biked through the seventh circle of hell for you.”
Ruby rolled her eyes, brushing hair from her face with a sharp exhale. “Whatever. I thought you were faster.” But her arms tightened around herself, and Otis noticed how she was shivering slightly, hugging herself for warmth. She glanced around, unease flickering briefly in her expression before she masked it with more sarcasm. “So... what’s the plan, Tour de France?”
Otis gave a weak laugh, wiping sweat from his brow. “Get on the bike and... pray we don’t die?”
“Ugh,” Ruby groaned, glancing at the bike with obvious distaste. “You mean I actually have to ride on this thing?”
“It’s that or... sleep in your car and hope no serial killers stop by.”
Ruby let out a dramatic sigh but climbed onto the back of the bike, shifting uncomfortably as she tried to balance herself. Otis felt her hands awkwardly grip his coat.
“Don’t pull me off,” Otis muttered.
“No promises,” Ruby shot back, though the tension in her voice had eased just a little.
They sat there in the cold silence before Otis broke it with a quiet, lingering question.
“Ruby... why do you have to work all the way out here? Why not somewhere closer?”
Ruby hesitated for the briefest moment, her voice dropping just enough to sound almost honest.
“You know why.”
Otis nodded slowly, the pieces falling into place in his mind—the moment he first saw her in that mall café in Bridgely, the way her confidence crumbled the second their eyes met.
***
It was two weeks ago, on a chilly Sunday morning, when Otis, Eric, and Aimee boarded a bus bound for the Galleria at Bridgely. They weren’t planning to buy anything—just look at overpriced clothes and makeup, mostly for Eric’s amusement.
Inside the brightly lit halls of the Galleria, every shop window gleamed with expensive displays: designer bags, perfumes, high-fashion coats that looked more like art pieces than winter wear. Eric was in heaven, hopping from store to store, touching everything and marveling at things he knew he could never afford.
“This lipstick alone costs, like, half my rent,” Eric exclaimed dramatically as they walked out of yet another luxury boutique. He turned to Otis and Aimee, eyes wide with disbelief. “Where do people actually get money for this stuff?”
Otis shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Rich parents?”
Eric rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s not us. We’re gonna need to invent some miracle serum or rob a bank if we wanna look that good.” He sighed. “Let’s take a break—I’m starving. Food court?”
Aimee wrinkled her nose. “Nah, let’s try that café over there.”
They turned toward the small, chic café nestled at the corner of the mall, surrounded by greenery and softly glowing lights. Just as they approached, Otis stopped in his tracks.
There, walking briskly between tables, wearing a black apron over a crisp white shirt, was Ruby Matthews.
For a second, Otis thought he was imagining things. Ruby? Here? Working? It didn’t fit with the image she so carefully crafted at school—the Queen Bee who always looked perfect and never seemed to lift a finger.
He stood frozen, just watching her as she balanced a tray of coffee cups with practiced ease, her expression cool and focused.
Eric followed Otis’s gaze, then gasped dramatically. “No way. Is that... Ruby Matthews?”
Otis flinched. “Eric, shh.”
But it was too late. Eric’s voice carried, loud and excited. Aimee’s eyes widened as she spotted Ruby too, her lips parting in surprise. “Oh my God, it is.”
Ruby turned—and saw them.
Her eyes locked with Otis’s for a split second, and the brief flicker of panic was quickly replaced by a glare so cold it could freeze water. She blinked once, like she was deciding whether to pretend they didn’t exist or march over and dump a latte on their heads.
Otis groaned inwardly. “Let’s go somewhere else,” he muttered, already turning to leave. “She’s going to hate us for this.”
But Eric grabbed his arm, grinning mischievously. “No way. We have to eat here. This is, like, a once-in-a-lifetime sighting.” He nudged Aimee. “We’re staying, right?”
Aimee shrugged. “Yeah, why not? I’m hungry.”
Before Otis could protest, Eric dragged them to a table right in Ruby’s section. They sat down awkwardly, trying too hard to look natural.
Ruby stood where she was for a second longer, arms stiff at her sides, her jaw tight. She looked like she was physically restraining herself from walking out of the café on the spot. But there were no other waiters around, and a table full of customers meant tips. So, after a sharp exhale, she adjusted her tray and marched toward them.
When she reached their table, she gave them a tight, forced smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“What do you want?” she asked flatly, her voice as cold as the autumn air outside.
Otis sat frozen, staring at Ruby’s piercing glare, feeling like a kid caught stealing candy. His heart thudded in his chest. Eric, on the other hand, looked far too eager to stir the pot, his grin wide with mischief. Aimee sat between them, fidgeting with the strap of her bag, her expression torn between discomfort and curiosity.
For a moment, no one said a word. The air between them was thick with awkwardness. Otis wanted to say something—anything—to diffuse the tension, but his brain had shut down entirely.
Eric, predictably, broke the silence first.
“So… where’s the menu?” he asked with casual enthusiasm.
Ruby’s eyes narrowed, but she reached for a laminated menu and slammed it down on the table with a sharp thud. Otis flinched.
“There,” Ruby said coolly, her words clipped. She turned sharply on her heel, clearly intending to leave as fast as possible.
But Eric wasn’t done. “Wait, wait!” he called after her, leaning back in his chair. “What do you recommend?”
Ruby pivoted slowly, fixing Eric with a withering look. “It’s a place like this. Everything’s high quality. Not like those cheap dives where they push whatever’s about to expire.”
Her tone was biting, but Eric only grinned wider. “Nice. I’ll let the others know,” he said with a wink, enjoying himself far too much.
Ruby shot him a withering look. “Be right back,” she added sarcastically, striding off before anyone else could respond.
Otis leaned toward Eric immediately, panic evident in his eyes.
“Okay, we have to leave. Now. Before she spits in our food.”
Eric waved him off, chuckling. “Relax, Milburn. She’s not gonna poison us. Not while she’s working. Probably.”
“Probably?” Otis hissed, gripping the edge of the table.
Aimee, still playing with her bag strap, glanced nervously toward the counter where Ruby stood, arms crossed, glaring at them as if daring them to stay. “She does look… kinda mad,” Aimee muttered.
But Eric was undeterred. He raised a hand and gave a playful wave toward Ruby, who responded with an exaggerated sigh before marching back over to their table.
Ruby planted herself in front of them, arms folded. “Decided yet?”
Eric grinned. “Yeah, I’ll have a coffee. And for them too,” he said, gesturing at Otis and Aimee, “and… what’s that one?” He squinted at the menu. “The uh… pain au chocolat?”
Ruby blinked, her expression flat as a pancake. “It’s ‘pahn oh shoh-koh-lah.’”
“Right, that one. And a couple of those.” Eric pointed at another item on the menu, struggling again with the name. “Uh... finan…cier?”
Ruby gave him a stare. “Fee-nahn-see-ay.”
“Yeah, those too.” Eric beamed. “See? We’re fancy now.”
Ruby rolled her eyes, scribbling down the order with sharp, irritated movements. As she turned to leave, her gaze flicked over their shopping bags—or rather, the lack of them.
“So… didn’t buy anything, huh?” she asked, her tone drenched in mocking sweetness. “Guess the Galleria’s a bit out of your price range?”
Otis, still cringing from Eric’s pastry pronunciation massacre, felt something rise in his chest—a strange urge to defend himself.
“Well,” Otis said, shifting in his seat, meeting Ruby’s eyes directly for the first time. “In order to buy expensive things, someone’s gotta work hard for them.” He tilted his head slightly, adding, “Like… waiting tables.”
The corner of Ruby’s mouth twitched, her expression flickering between irritation and something else—maybe embarrassment. Whatever it was, she didn’t like it. With a tight, angry smile, she snapped her notepad shut. “I’ll bring your order in a minute.”
And with that, she stalked off, her apron fluttering behind her.
Aimee leaned toward the boys, her voice low. “She’s gonna get it done fast. Bet she just wants to get rid of us.”
Eric nodded approvingly, still grinning. “Yeah, but this is the best fun I’ve had all day.”
Ruby returned to their table with a tray in hand, moving with graceful efficiency that surprised Otis. Despite her clear irritation, she carried herself with a kind of poised confidence, balancing the cups and pastries without so much as a wobble. She placed everything down in neat, precise motions—three coffees, two pain au chocolat, and three financiers—as if daring them to find a single flaw.
Otis couldn’t help but watch her, admiring the way she handled the job with such smooth precision, even though she was obviously miserable serving them. It was strange to see her in this setting, yet somehow, she fit—as if this version of Ruby had existed all along, just hidden beneath layers of designer clothes and attitude.
But the tension between them lingered, thick and heavy. Ruby’s eyes flicked between them like a hawk watching prey, as if willing them to choke on their food. Otis could barely bring himself to sip his coffee, let alone touch the pastries. Every time he glanced up, Ruby was staring—sharp, unblinking, and ready to pounce.
Eric, meanwhile, was having the time of his life. He sipped his coffee with a satisfied hum, munching on his pain au chocolat as though Ruby wasn’t glaring daggers at them from across the room.
“This is good,” he declared cheerfully. “Really good.”
Aimee took a bite of her financier, examining the texture like a food critic. “Not bad,” she mumbled, chewing thoughtfully. “Still... I think mine are better. These need more almond. And maybe a little more butter.”
Otis gave her a sideways glance. “You bake financiers?”
Aimee smiled. “Of course. I love baking fancy little things. It’s like art you can eat.”
When they finally finished, Eric leaned back in his chair and waved cheerfully at Ruby. “Check, please!”
Ruby strode over briskly, her expression carefully neutral, though her eyes glittered with something close to contempt. “Hope you can afford it,” she said, her voice flat but pointed. Without waiting for a reply, she spun on her heel and headed back to the counter.
Otis sighed, running a hand through his hair. “That went well.”
Eric snorted. “She was rude. I don’t feel like tipping her.”
Aimee shifted uneasily in her seat. “I don’t know… not tipping feels kinda harsh. But tipping her would feel like charity, don’t you think?”
Otis frowned. “Yeah. She’d hate it if she thought we were giving her a pity tip.”
The three of them fell silent, mulling it over. Otis didn’t want to make things worse, but at the same time, leaving without tipping felt wrong. After all, this was Ruby’s job—like it or not, she’d earned the tip.
Eric sighed dramatically, digging into his pocket. “Fine. Let’s just leave a standard tip.”
They quickly counted out the money, enough for the bill and a modest tip, and left it neatly on the table. Without another word, they slipped out of their seats and made their way to the exit before Ruby could return.
***
After Ruby’s quiet “You know why,” neither of them said anything for a while. The night seemed darker, the cold biting deeper with each passing minute. Otis gripped the handlebars tightly, his legs burning with every push of the pedals, but the silence between them felt heavier than the freezing wind.
Otis glanced over his shoulder briefly. Ruby sat stiffly behind him, her hands barely resting on his sides, as if touching him too much might somehow bruise her pride.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. “So… are your evening shifts always this long?”
“No,” Ruby muttered, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Usually not. I got stuck tonight. Emergency or something.”
Otis nodded, not knowing what else to say. His breath came out in short clouds as the temperature dropped even further. After another long stretch of silence, he spoke again, this time quieter:
“Well… I guess now I know how you afford all the clothes and makeup.”
Ruby’s grip tightened slightly. “Shut your mouth, Milburn,” she snapped, her words sharp but tired. “Just shut it and keep driving.”
Otis decided not to push it. He focused on the road, the rhythmic churn of the bike’s wheels the only sound filling the cold night.
After a few more minutes of riding, the wind picked up, colder still, and Otis felt Ruby shiver behind him. For a moment, she hesitated—then, with a frustrated huff, she clung to him closer, wrapping her arms around his waist.
Otis didn’t say a word, though a part of him was secretly glad. The warmth between them was faint but welcome, a small comfort in the bleak cold. His hands and feet were going numb, but at least now they weren’t freezing alone.
They rode in silence again for a while, the only sounds the faint hum of the wind and the squeak of the bike’s tires on the road. Then, out of nowhere, Ruby broke the quiet.
“So… how do you feel now that Maeve’s gone?” she asked softly, her breath warm against the back of his neck.
Otis felt his stomach clench. He hated the question. It was too personal, too raw.
“That’s not fair,” he said, gritting his teeth against both the cold and the awkwardness. “How come I’m not allowed to ask you about your job, but you get to ask me about Maeve?”
Ruby’s voice was calm, almost amused. “Tell you what, Milburn. I’ll answer your question… if you answer mine.”
Otis sighed. “Fine.”
Ruby adjusted herself slightly on the seat, pressing closer to him for warmth. “My mom can cover the basics,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter now, less defensive. “But all the stuff I want—the clothes, the makeup, everything else—I have to take care of that myself. And obviously, I can’t work in Moordale. Everyone would know.”
Otis nodded slightly, her explanation sitting with him in a way that made him feel something close to respect. Ruby was doing what she had to do, and as much as she hated being seen like this, she kept going.
Now it was his turn. He exhaled slowly, his breath forming clouds in the air. “Maeve and I... we decided not to text for a while. Give each other space.” He paused, struggling with the words. “It’s hard, but... it’s what we need to do to live our lives properly. I mean, that’s what we agreed on.”
Ruby rested her chin on his shoulder again, the movement so subtle it could’ve been accidental. “Did you sleep with her?”
Otis tensed, the question catching him off guard. He kept pedaling, the bike wobbling slightly. “Uh... yeah. Yeah, I did.”
Ruby’s voice was unreadable. “How was it?”
Before Otis could think better of it, the words slipped out.
“It was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Otis knew it was a mistake. He winced, wishing he could pull them back, but it was too late.
Ruby didn’t say anything.
The silence between them thickened, heavier than the cold night air. Otis felt Ruby shift behind him, her arms tightening around his waist. He cursed himself silently for his stupidity, wondering what she was thinking, what she was feeling.
After a moment, he heard a sniff—soft, almost inaudible.
Otis clenched his jaw, his heart sinking. He told himself it was just the cold. Just the wind making her sniffle. But deep down, he knew better.
And for once, Otis kept his mouth shut.
They rode the rest of the way in complete silence, the cold settling deeper into their bones with every passing minute.
When they finally reached Ruby’s house, Otis coasted to a stop at the front gate, the bike wobbling slightly as they slowed. Ruby climbed off the back without a word, her movements stiff and mechanical, like she was forcing herself not to feel anything.
She adjusted her coat, avoiding Otis’s eyes. "Thanks." The word was short, clipped, as if it had cost her something to say.
Before Otis could respond, she turned and walked away, her boots crunching softly on the gravel path leading to her front door. She didn’t look back.
Otis stayed where he was, his hands gripping the handlebars, watching her disappear into the dark. The porch light flickered on as Ruby reached the door, and she slipped inside without hesitation, the door clicking shut behind her.
Otis sat there for a moment longer, feeling like a complete fool.
He replayed the conversation in his mind, cringing at his own words. Why did he have to be so honest? He could’ve just said it was fine. He could’ve lied. But no—he had to tell her the truth about Maeve. And now Ruby was never going to forgive him.
With a sigh, Otis adjusted his grip on the handlebars and turned the bike around, the tires crunching softly against the gravel as he rode away.
***
Ruby stood by the window, watching as the dim glow of Otis’s bike light disappeared down the street and into the night. She stayed there, still and quiet, her hands resting on the windowsill, the cold from the glass seeping into her fingers.
As the last trace of his silhouette vanished into the darkness, she let her guard slip. A single tear slid down her cheek, warm against the chill of her skin. She didn’t bother wiping it away—it didn’t matter if no one could see.