The woman he’d saved? Although he’d had no further contact with her, he’d made sure she and her son received assistance. She was now living in a small town in Maine and was taking courses at a local college. He had people check on her now and then. She’d never know of his involvement, but he’d set up support for her and her child so if they ever needed a little boost there would always be someone to step in and help out.
I’m trying to be a better person.
I have a fucking long way to go.
Joanna didn’t belong with someone like him. A smile twisted his mouth as he imagined her standing over Clay and telling him what to type. Was she always that bold?
He was lost in his thoughts when three men stepped out of an alley he’d just passed. “Look what we have here. Going to a party?” one asked.
Without looking up, Bradford said, “You don’t want to do this.”
There was the flash of a blade then another of the men said, “Throw me your wallet. And that watch.”
Bradford assessed the three young men and said, “Fair warning. You come for me and the one with the knife is the first to feel my fist.” He pointed to the next man. “You’ll piss yourself from the ass kicking I’ll give you.” And then the third. “And you’re dumb enough to try to jump me while I’m dealing with them so you’ll definitely get shot. I’m in a really bad mood tonight. If I were you I’d walk away.”
It might have been the scars on his face that lent credibility to his claim or the gun he made sure he flashed as he spoke. He didn’t care which. Or maybe a man who has nothing to lose and no chance of getting into heaven has a certain look in his eye.
The one Bradford was sure would get shot said, “Bring it on.”
“He has a gun,” the man with the knife said.
It was almost amusing to see how quickly the man Bradford guessed would piss himself backed down. He said, “It’s not worth it, guys. Come on, let’s go.”
They hesitated, seemed to weigh their options, then turned to leave. Bradford sighed, took out his phone, and used an app that scanned their phones for their identification. He sent that information along with details of what had happened to his friend on the local police force. Someone needed to make sure those three didn’t simply pick an easier victim.
He was in the process of putting his phone away when it beeped with a message. He expected to see a question from the detective he’d contacted, but instead it was a text from Joanna.
If you’re done pouting by then—we could meet for breakfast. There’s a diner next to J.D. Field Park in Doler, New Jersey. On Log Road. The park has a path that loops around the pond. I know you have all the friends you need, but I’m talking about pancakes with blueberries the size of eyeballs. Hang on, that doesn’t sound as delicious as I tried to make it sound. Anyway, they use huge blueberries.
He imagined her as he read the text. She would be smiling, those beautiful eyes of hers dancing with humor. He gave in to the smile pulling at his lips. I don’t pout.
Good then there’s no reason you can’t meet me.
Not a good idea. Except I don’t eat breakfast.
Never?
Never.
Do you walk?
I do, but I have plans for the morning.
Liar.
He choked on a laugh. He was lying, but he wasn’t used to people calling him out like that. Ask Dylan. I’m sure he’d love to go. He groaned as he read his text. God, he sounded like a jealous teenager. He was right not to get involved with her. She was kryptonite for his brain.
I could ask him. Would you come if he says yes? I could also ask Connor and Angelina. We could go for a little hike, all skip breakfast, and have an early lunch.
Oh my God, this woman has no clue. He was preparing to type a simple, “No.” when she wrote: Please.
What the fuck? Why are you doing this?
I like you.
No. That’s not what this is. And?
And Dylan really was excited for all of us to go to Iceland to see the end of his filming. Can’t you reconsider? I’ll make sure Clay doesn’t go after you again.
She thinks Clay is the reason that trip is on my hell-no list? I’m not worried about Clay and I have no desire to see Iceland.
Dylan will be so sad. He wants to spend more time with you.
Bradford typed, “I don’t give a fuck what Dylan wants” then deleted it. He told himself not to ask, but he had to know. Are you still at the event?
Yes, but I’m in the foyer.
I wouldn’t make Dylan wait too long.
Are you mad at me?
No.
You’re not being nice.
I’m not a nice person.
Wow. That’s lame. So, instead of trying to do better you’re embracing being rude?
Bradford sighed. You can stop texting me anytime you want, sweetheart.
Pretend I just typed a gagging emoji. I don’t know which one that is, but if I did I would have typed it. Men should never say sweetheart unless they mean it and you need to apologize to me. I’ve been nothing but nice to you.
That wasn’t true. She’d also been painfully distracting, sweet enough to make him wish he were a better man, and so damn frustrating he was torn between telling her to stay the hell away from him or asking her to meet him at his place.
I already know she’d ignore the former.
What would she do with the latter?
She added: I’m waiting.
He had to reread her text before that one to remember what she was waiting for.
If I apologize will you stop texting me? Sure, it was a dick comment, but he needed to end the conversation before she caught on to how easily she tied him up in knots.
Wow. No, I’ll stop without an apology. Sorry, I was just trying to help.
Don’t fucking apologize. Not when I’m being an ass.
I’m going to get you a swear jar. Then every time you curse you’ll have to put money in it.
Was she serious? I’d be broke within a week.
Not necessarily. My parents used to let me take a quarter out of our swear jar every time I did something nice for someone. They wanted me to see that mistakes happen but there’s always a way back.
If only life were that simple. Maybe it’s time she gets a taste of who I really am. I was in second grade when my parents died during a drug deal that went bad. No one gave a shit what came out of my mouth back then. No one dares to tell me what I can or can’t say now.
She took a moment to answer. I’m sorry you went through that. Life isn’t fair. I know there’s nothing I can say that could make whatever you’ve been through okay, but I do care.
He didn’t have an immediate response to that. He was a tangled mess on the inside and it was her fault. She made him feel things he hadn’t in a long time and he didn’t like it. Fair enough.
I have an extra jar at home. I’ll make a sign for it.
Holy shit. Don’t bother.
It’s no bother. You might find you like it. I’ll bring it to breakfast tomorrow morning.
I won’t be there.
That’s okay, I will be.
He held the phone up in front of him and shook it. He didn’t text anything after that.
I’m not meeting you for breakfast.
I’ll swear as much as I fucking want to whenever I fucking want to.
I don’t want your fucking jar.