Eight o’clock. Three more hours. God, she was so tired. She seemed to be devoid of energy the last few weeks, which wasn’t surprising since she hadn’t been sleeping well either. Rubbing the back of her neck, she braced the other hand on the bar and stretched her back. Man, she ached all over. A good, long soak in a hot tub would do her wonders. Surprisingly, though she had no energy, her appetite was raging. Elle found she was constantly hungry. As a result, her clothes were starting to fit funny. She’d finally broken down and bought a couple pairs of new jeans and work shorts, but they still didn’t feel right. Too big in the legs but tight in the waist. It had been a long few months. After the run-in with Mike at the grocery, she’d done everything she could to avoid the Carvers. Any time they came to the Roadhouse, if they sat at one of her tables, she begged a co-worker to serve them. Sometimes, she took on two or three tables to get rid of that one. Logically, she knew she couldn’t keep it up, but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.
