by Jo Raven
Ev gasps and reaches for me, covers my hands with hers. Now she knows everything about those dark years of my life and doesn’t have to ask who Nick Harris is.
“When? What happened?”
“That’s the thing. I didn’t just run into him.” My hands shake underneath hers. “He followed me. Ran after me, shouting my name.” I swallow hard. “I hid inside a store until he left. Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know, girl. Makes no sense to me.”
Me neither. “He was outside my building, waiting for me to come out. He knows where I live, Ev.”
“Crap. Should we tell the police?” She bites her lower lip, deep in thought. “Hey, wasn’t he at the wedding reception?”
“You saw him, too? I thought I was going crazy.” Shit.
“I will ask Audrey. I see her often, because we have moved close to her.”
“Okay.” My heart is beating uncomfortably fast.
“Maybe he just wants to talk to you,” Ev says, pulling her hands away when a waitress approaches.
“What would he have to say to me?”
She shrugs, then rattles off our order and leans back. “I don’t know. But what would he do if he caught you in the middle of the street?”
Honestly, no clue. I just can’t let him catch me. As it’s become my habit in the last two weeks, I rub the band at my wrist. It smells of leather and faintly, of Jesse.
“What are you doing?” Ev snickers. “Are you sniffing your bracelet?”
I lower my hand hurriedly. “And if I am?”
“Is that…?” She falls silent when our food arrives, then leans forward again. “Is that Jesse’s?” She gives a small, sad smile. “I do that with Micah’s stuff. I’d roll in his scent all night and day if I could.”
My lips tremble, and I press them together. “And if it is Jesse’s? Will you tell me again how stupid I was to fall for him? I know, okay?”
“Oh, girlfriend.” Ev’s eyes look wet, and I don’t know why. “I’m sorry. What if I was wrong for telling you not to trust him?”
“Wrong? You saw what he did.”
“I saw what everyone saw. But what if he’s telling the truth? What if she came on to him and he was only trying to push her away?”
Innocent until proven guilty?
“Now you’re on his side?”
“He’s been telling everyone he didn’t kiss her. Dammit, I love Cassie. She’s my friend, but this time…” A tear rolls down Ev’s cheek. “She’s lusted after Jesse for a long time. She thinks they are alike. That for them both sex is meaningless. She may have pushed her luck with him at the reception.”
A breath is locked in my lungs. Could it be?
“The guys say he hasn’t gone out once since the wedding,” Ev goes on, “that he hasn’t been seen with a single chick. That he looks devastated. That he isn’t acting like himself.”
The thought of Jesse devastated makes my stomach twist.
What if he is telling the truth?
The guy who gave me his one prized possession, who told me he wanted to be with me. What if I’m the one who’s in the wrong?
But what if I’m not? After putting my heart through the ringer once for him, how can I risk it again? I’m still bleeding inside.
I think for the thousandth time about the lion pendant. I really am going to go over to his apartment and give it to him. See him. Let him explain what happened once more.
But how can I be objective about this when I’m face to face with him? My brain stops when I’m near him, when I see his eyes, hear his voice—which is why I’ve been avoiding him. Even hearing the voice messages he’d been leaving me threatens my resolve, so I’ve begun deleting them without hearing them.
But he hasn’t gone out. Hasn’t been with another girl.
My head spinning, I poke at my burger and onion rings, then end up drinking my soda and ignoring the rest. Ev, on the contrary, has been scarfing down everything so fast I’m afraid she’ll choke.
“Hey, slow down. Doesn’t Micah give you enough to eat?” I steal one of her onion rings—because hers look so much better than mine, of course—and deftly snatch my hand back before she slaps at it. “Must be the workout he puts you through every night, I guess.”
She scowls at me.
“Seriously…” I swallow hard. “May I ask you for a favor?”
She chews on a bite of her burger, her golden eyes narrowing. “You want Micah’s diet plan?”
“Not likely. After seeing how hungry he lets you go…” I put down my soda. “No, I’d like you to check a name through the system.”
“The system?”
“Yeah, the social system. Can you do that?”
“What do you think I am, FBI?” But she’s laughing. “I could try, I guess. Ask Audrey’s mother if she could do some digging for me. What name would that be?”
“Helen.” I lick my suddenly dry lips. “Helen McRoy.”
What am I doing?
“Helen McRoy. Anything else you can tell me about her?”
“She was here in Madison, living on the streets, maybe four or five years ago. Then she left and her tracks vanished. I want to know… if she’s dead. What happened to her.”
Ev puts down her half-eaten burger. “Okay. Is it someone you used to know? Does it have to do with Nick?”
“No. Nothing to do with Nick, and I didn’t know her. But she was important to someone.”
Someone I care about. Someone who asked me to trust him.
And no matter how scared that makes me, I think I want to try.
I spend the rest of my day making jewelry and preparing packages for the orders I received. Dizzily I move about the house—telling myself it’s because of the orders that keep rolling in, but knowing deep inside that it’s because of finally deciding to trust Jesse.
As soon as I made up my mind, all the things he told me, the things he did—the things I tried to forget in my anger—return, and I dance around the apartment, glad Kayla isn’t there to see me. She’s gone out to meet with some friends, leaving me alone.
Which is a good thing, because when the doorbell rings and a package is placed in my hands, with a request to sign in order to receive it, I’m in a complete daze.
I sign, close the door and I wander back into the living room where I drop onto the sofa. I zero in on the small card immediately.
“I miss you, Embers.”
The words on the small card blur in my eyes. Oh JJ. I miss you, too.
Turns out I didn’t need to hear his voice or see his face for my resolve to crumble. The memory of him was enough.
I open the box and smile when I see the chocolates. Roses or chocolates, he’d said, or whatever you like.
Heart thumping, I consider calling him right now. I even pick up my cell phone from the table, but no. I need to do this in person, looking into his eyes.
Tonight. It’s his day off, and yeah, funny how I know by heart which are his afternoons and days off, how I’ve stored them in my brain as vital information. I’ll pass by tonight to talk with him and give him the pendant.
Meanwhile, lots of little packages are ready to be mailed, so I leave the chocolates on my bed, grab everything and head out.
My heart is light for the first time since the wedding. Or maybe since ever. Shedding the doubt and anger was a conscious decision. Choosing to love Jesse wasn’t, but it’s all coming together.
I’ve lived the past few years in a bubble, taking no risks, making no moves. Now I’m treading deep water. Taking the plunge was the hardest part. I need to keep swimming and trust in my instinct. In my feelings.
In him.
As I push the door closed with my hip, loaded with two plastic bags full of my packaged jewelry, my cell rings. My thoughts on Jesse, I drop the bags and whip out the cell.
“Yeah?” Breathless, I sit on the top step of the stairs.
“Amber? Is everything okay, were you running?”
I snort. “Ev. No, I wasn
’t. I’m heading to the post office.”
“I’ve got some news for you. About Nick Harris.”
Frowning, I change the cell to my other ear. “What did you find out?”
“Nick has found God.”
I blink. “You’re kidding me.”
“I’m not.”
“He’s a priest?”
“No, not yet anyway. But he’s openly repented in the church he attends about his past ways, and has promised to do only good from now on. He volunteers for charities, helps out with the homeless… You name it.”
“Can’t believe it.” I rub my forehead. I can feel a headache starting. “He was a frigging bully, for chrissakes.”
“A repentant one. Also some awful stuff came out about his family. His older brother bullied him, too, apparently.”
“Not good enough,” I grumble. It isn’t. Wasn’t Asher also bullied by his father? I remember the story Ev told me. But he turned out just fine. “Not even close.”
“I know.” She sighs into the phone. “Anyway. I wanted to let you know, oh and that he works for an event organizer. The one who organized Asher’s and Audrey’s wedding reception. No wonder we both saw him there. He must have found your address on the guest list.”
“Crap.” Fear shudders through me.
“Look, I got to go now. Come have a coffee with me in the afternoon? There’s this new café near State Street, and Kayla might drop by, too. We can talk about this.”
I get the name and address of the café, and promise to go. Then I disconnect and let out a long breath.
Coffee with the girls is always fun. There will be some gossip and plans to go shopping, or do our hair or watch a movie. I love those girls. Yeah, Kayla has been growing on me, too.
But truth is, I can’t take my mind off Jesse, and I can’t wait for evening when he’s off work to finally see him.
After a morning of running about, mailing my packages and shopping—I love Kayla, but her dinner options are a toss between tortilla chips with dip and ice cream—I’m looking forward to meeting the girls and grabbing some lunch there.
Stomach grumbling, I put away the groceries, drink some cold water, and head back out. Tall trees line part of the street, foliage rustling, throwing dappled shadows on the sidewalk. I pull down my sunglasses and squint up into the bright sunlight.
“Amber!” someone calls, and I stiffen. “Can we talk?”
Nick Harris is striding toward me, dressed in a blue T-shirt with a smiley face on it and white shorts. His handsome face is drawn into a small frown.
His hated, arrogant face, the face that sneered at me and laughed at me too many times to count while he and his minions broke my pens, tore my notebooks, called me names and circulated awful rumors about me.
“Why would I want to talk to you?” I bite out the words, surprised that the tremor inside me doesn’t reach my voice. “Go away, Nick. I’m not weak anymore.”
“You never were,” he says, and I wait for him to catch up with me, not even sure why. “Would you have coffee with me?”
“No, I wouldn’t.” Is he serious? “What do you want?”
“Fair enough.” He smiles, rubs his chin. His blue eyes are clear when he looks back up. “I know I hurt you in the past, Amber, and since I found out you were back in town, I wanted to talk to you.”
“Why?” The million dollar question.
“To say I’m sorry.”
His words hang in the bright sunlight, incongruous and unexpected, despite what Ev told me this morning.
I don’t know what to say, how to react. Is everything okay because he’s sorry? Can I forgive him? He pushed me to the very edge of sanity. He pushed me until I thought life wasn’t what it’s cracked up to be. That ending it might be a solution.
I turn to go, my muscles shaking with the need to start running until I can’t go on anymore. “Good for you,” I whisper.
“Please.” He circles me, holding out something. “My card. Take it. I know what I did was unforgivable. But who knows? Maybe one day you will find it in you to forgive me. If there’s anything I can do for you, all you have to do is ask.”
Okay. Who is this guy, and what has he done with Nick Harris? I take his card, numb, nod, and watch him walk away.
Jesus. With a shudder, I stick his card into my purse and draw in a fortifying breath. I survived the meeting. I faced my bully and didn’t flinch. Didn’t run away.
A smile spreads on my face. I did it. I faced my fear.
With this, I figure I’ve had my dose of unwanted encounters for the day. Things can only get better, right?
So it’s a shock to my system when I arrive at the café on Lake Street and find Cassie outside, by the door.
Blond hair loose, dressed in a long dress, she looks like a fairy.
An evil fairy.
I stop and face her. I’m on a roll. “You. I don’t believe Jesse came onto you. Not for a second.”
She shrugs, her mouth downturned at the corners. “I never said he did.”
I gape at her. Words are failing me. I never thought she’d admit it.
“You and everyone else assumed he was the one who flirted with me and kissed me. You have no faith in him, and you’re right not to.” She pushes off the wall and sighs. “I’m doing you a favor, don’t you see? Jesse is like me: he doesn’t like attachments. He’s not the kind of boy you need.”
“But I’m the kind of girl he needs,” I say, finding I believe the words as they spill from my mouth. “And even more importantly, he’s the boy I love. So I’d appreciate it if you stopped getting in the way.”
Looks like the strangeness of the day isn’t yet over, but damn, saying those words to the bitch’s face sure felt good.
Chapter Twenty
Jesse
Weaving through the familiar narrow streets and back alleys, I try to ignore the feeling I’m being followed, because that’s just… paranoia. Nobody’s behind me when I turn.
Except for a tall shadow that vanishes behind a dumpster.
Still… No. Just no. Get your shit together, J.
Jason is having a quick smoke behind the Golden Dragon, a new Chinese restaurant near his usual spot. He gets up when he sees me, a dark brow arched, and whistles. “Man, who pissed on your parade?”
I pull out my pack of smokes and light up, then rub at the stubble on my chin. “Aren’t whores supposed to be sensitive and empathic and not ask such stupidly blunt questions?”
“Really?” He looks impressed. “I guess I never got the manual that came with the job. Neither did you, from what I recall.”
I give him a half-hearted grin and suck the bitter smoke deep into my lungs. I’ve smoked so much in the past two weeks my mouth tastes like acrid ash and my voice is rough like sandpaper.
“What brings you over here?” Jason’s eyes glimmer over the lit end of his cigarette. “In my empathic whore role, I’d ask if it’s woman trouble, but not in your case. So what’s up?”
I frown. “And if it is? Woman trouble?”
He laughs long and hard, choking on smoke. “Okay. That was a good one.” He throws his cigarette to the ground, steps on it, and coughs. “Almost got me there with the serious face, dickhead. One day, though. I have hopes for you, pretty boy.”
One day that has come and gone.
“Just checking on you,” I mutter. “S’what friends do.”
“Yeah, well. We’re doing okay. Though I was gonna come find you. Rumor has it you reported Simon.”
“I did.”
Jason does a double-take. “The hell you did.”
“What? You said I should. In fact, if memory serves, you said if I don’t do it, more people will get hurt.”
“Shit. I thought it was just rumors.” He shrugs. “Not that it makes any fucking difference.”
“What do you mean?” My cigarette has burned to the filter, scorching my fingers, and I throw it away. “A difference to what?”
“To Simon knowing you repo
rted him.”
I was about to pull another smoke and I almost drop the pack. “What the hell do you mean, Simon knowing? How could he know?”
Jason shakes his head, not a hair moving out of place in his perfectly styled hairdo. “Had you followed? Followed you himself? Happened to be there when you entered the police station? Fuck me if I know.”
I remember the feeling of being watched at the station, and out, on the street, and suppress a shiver. “Why would he be following me?” The scars on my arm ache. I rub one of the deeper ones absently. “How the fuck would he know where to find me? It’s been years since the attack.”
Jason shoots me a shrewd look and cocks his head to the side. “You tell me, J. You never told me much about that night, or what happened afterward. You and Simon, you have history, don’t you?”
I press my lips together and lean back on the wall, kicking a foot up to rest on the smooth surface. “History. Sounds dirty.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Time you told me the story. It’s been years, man.”
I sigh. These are things I never told a soul. I hedge, rub my face, search for my smokes in my pocket.
Jason waits me out, until I start talking.
“That night wasn’t the first time Simon came to me,” I finally say. “Somehow he’d decided I’d be a good fit for his gang. So he cornered me again and again, insisting I join. I said no. I don’t do gangs, guns and drugs.”
The rules Helen set for me before she vanished.
Jason is leaning forward, brows lifted. “Go on.”
“That night… he wanted me to submit to him.” I open my mouth to say more, but the words fail me. Dammit.
Jason lets out a low whistle. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
I nod.
“Holy shit.” He fumbles for his pack of smokes. “Didn’t know he’s batting for my team.”
“Maybe he isn’t. See, it’s about control and dominance, or some shit like that.” I googled it on Gage’s laptop one night when I woke up drenched in sweat, my mind playing the events of that night in a never-ending loop of horror.
