The Hero's Redemption

If she intended to rent out the apartment in the future, it would need work. The impulse might have been charitable, but he wouldn’t have to feel indebted to her. She’d been careful that way, he thought, treating him like a man who deserved his dignity.

She gave him the key, which he tucked carefully in his pocket. How long since he’d had a key that opened any door?

“Will you let me drive you to pick up your stuff tonight?”

Cole’s instinct was to refuse help he didn’t absolutely need, but she knew his real circumstances now. “I don’t have much.”

“Why should you have to walk?” she asked simply.

He dipped his head, choking a little on another “Thank you.” As he returned to work, Cole realized that this gave him an address that would satisfy his parole officer. If the job was going to last even a few weeks, it would be enough, at least for now. Except that meant the parole officer would be calling Erin, which Cole hated.

Live with it, he told himself, locking down the angry sense of outrage and humiliation he’d felt from the minute the jury foreman had said, “Guilty as charged.”

* * *

THE DRIZZLE NEVER did let up. Working in the apartment, Erin heard the on-and-off buzz of the circular saw in the garage below. She started with the kitchen, scrubbing the sink, the stove and the inside of the refrigerator, which—to her astonishment—hummed when she plugged it in. She cleaned the countertops, the interior of the cheap cabinets, the floor. She vacuumed the sofa and wiped cobwebs from corners with a broom. The television didn’t come on. She’d have to see that cable service was hooked up for the apartment, anyway. Cole wouldn’t be happy to have her buying a new TV, but if she offered a furnished apartment down the line, she’d have to include one, so why not now?

The bedroom didn’t take long, except for mopping the vinyl floor. She bundled up the rag rug, curtains and mattress pad and started a load in her washing machine at the house. Exploring Nanna’s linen closet, she found a set of worn but soft flannel sheets in the right size. She’d have to buy a bath mat to replace the one she’d thrown away, but had plenty of towels to supply the apartment.

She persuaded a reluctant Cole to accept a sandwich, pop and potato chips for lunch. When she suggested he come inside to eat, he said, “I’m wet and dirty.” Carrying their meal, she trailed him to the garage, where she hopped up on the workbench and he sat on a pile of lumber. Instead of pushing him to talk, she reminisced about her grandparents and long-ago visits. He didn’t seem to mind.

By the time he was ready to call it a day, he’d built the framework of her new porch with pressure-treated beams and four-by-fours resting on the original concrete blocks. He agreed she should make another trip to the lumberyard in the morning.

“This costing more than you expected?” he asked, not quite casually. He pulled the seat belt around himself.

Erin started the engine, eager for the heater to kick in. “No, if I’d had to hire a contractor, I’m betting the job would’ve cost a whole lot more,” she said frankly. “In fact, I’m bumping up your pay.”

He shook his head. “Not when you’re letting me stay here, too.”

“That’s a separate deal—”

“No.” Completely inflexible.

She put the gearshift in Reverse, but kept her foot on the brake. “Has anybody ever told you how stubborn you are?”

“Could be.”

“Hmph.”

Giving him a suspicious, sidelong look, she could swear she saw the corner of his mouth lift. Even the idea that he’d smiled made her heart feel weightless. Which was dangerous territory. Falling for an ex-con because he had gorgeous blue eyes, sculpted cheekbones and awe-inspiring muscles would be incredibly stupid. Always law-abiding, she’d been the quintessential good girl and was now an educated woman, a college professor.

Had been a college professor. Every time she thought about returning to the classroom, she hit a concrete wall. Couldn’t see through it or around it. She’d had no success imagining what she might do instead, either. To keep her heart from racing and panic from prickling her skin, she reminded herself that there was no hurry. She wasn’t spending any more money working on the house than she would have paying her former mortgage. She could afford a year off before she had to worry about the future and still have investments, thanks to the inheritance from her parents and Nanna’s savings, too. By then… But she hit the same blank wall when she tried to see any future.