“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 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 reported 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.”