The Hero's Redemption

“I could start working on the apartment in the evenings,” he said.

She frowned. “You shouldn’t have to work twelve-hour days.”

“I can get a lot done in an hour or two.”

“Well…” Erin set down her fork. “I don’t know. What should come first?”

“The outside stairs. Although once I start, I’ll have to work straight through.”

“I should’ve realized they were rotten, too.”

He nodded. “Not sure I’d want to haul something heavy like a new shower stall or bathroom cabinet up those stairs right now.”

“Okay. When we’re done with the paint job, I’ll buy the lumber for you to do that next. And I’ll pay you.” She narrowed her eyes at him until he closed his mouth, ending his protest. “That’s not the apartment. It’s part of the garage, and a safety issue.”

They talked about the rest. She thought he should gut the bathroom, although he could do it over time. “I can get some reasonably priced stock cabinets for the kitchen area, too. And a new sink and faucets. Probably a new refrigerator.”

“Or two?”

Ignoring that, she added, “Plus new flooring.”

“You know, it’s pretty comfortable the way it is.” Paradise. “You can rent it out without doing that much.”

“I could charge more if it’s not so run-down. And it would be a selling point if I end up putting the house on the market.”

Cole nodded. Not his decision. And the longer it took, the longer he could stay.

“I’d still like to tackle the yard before I end up stuck in the house like Sleeping Beauty,” she said.

Relief lightened his mood. It might not be a big job, but at least she meant to keep him on a little longer. Of course, his first thought was that he’d gladly kiss her awake. All he said was, “Blackberries climbing in your bedroom window?”

“Something like that.”

Shortly afterward, he offered to help her clean up. When she refused, he thanked her for dinner and left, pretending he didn’t see the disappointment she wasn’t successful at hiding.

Walking back down the driveway, he pondered the fact that eating with her had been…good. More comfortable than he’d expected, if he ignored the hum of near-painful physical attraction. Unfortunately, he couldn’t picture her jumping him, even though once in a while he thought he saw her sneak a look at his body. Unless he was delusional, he wasn’t the only one pondering what it would be like between them.

He had talked more than he had in years, too, he reflected, although he was less sure that was good. He couldn’t start spouting off to just anyone.

Cole came close to laughing. He’d become accustomed to living in his head. He doubted that would change. Tonight…well, something creaky had loosened, that was all.

Finding out Erin had lost her entire family didn’t surprise him. That kind of sadness he couldn’t miss. If her grandmother was Mr. Zatloka’s age, though, her death wasn’t exactly a tragedy. His mom would have said, To everything its season. No, something else was going on with Erin. The untimely deaths of her parents, of course, but he sensed there was more.

He didn’t see himself asking.

* * *

ERIN’S HEADLIGHTS SPEARED the dark, empty, two-lane highway in front of her. She’d told herself she was going for a drive, nothing more. It wasn’t as if she stomped the gas pedal to the floor every time she went out. Sometimes…sometimes, just being out here was enough.

Her Jeep Grand Cherokee wasn’t anywhere near as big as the van the college had owned, but tonight she could almost hear voices, laughter. They were with her, and yet they weren’t.

They’re waiting.

Were they angry? Why them and not her? She would have given her life in a second to save even one of the girls or Charlotte, all so much younger, so much more hopeful. If she died now, tonight, it wouldn’t bring any of them back. Erin knew that. She did. And yet, the darkness felt like the veil separating her from them.

Her speed climbed.

Did you somehow miss me last time?

* * *

WAITING FOR ERIN’S front door to open behind him and for her to join him, Cole unwrapped his sandwich and popped the top on a soda. This had become habit—sitting together on her front porch, talking in a lazy way, planning the afternoon, while they ate their lunches. He didn’t have to feel grateful to her for providing his food. He could at least pretend they were on an equal footing.