The Hero's Redemption

“Actually—” she inspected him, head to toe “—there is a little more substance to you than there used to be. I remember thinking you looked too lean the first time I saw you.”

“Prison food is lousy.” He settled in his usual spot at the top of the steps, on the right side. “If you can afford it, you can buy snack food at what we called ‘the store.’” He unwrapped his sandwich, as much to give himself a minute as anything, Erin thought. “After I got out, I had to conserve money. I’d probably lost some weight by the time we met.”

Conserve money, she suspected, was an understatement of monumental proportions.

“Truthfully, I’ve been in this baking frenzy. I don’t know why.”

“Mr. Wagner told me you’d taken him some of those cookies.”

Her face brightened. “Oh, did he talk to you? I was hoping he would. His porch steps are squishy, and all I could think was how risky a fall would be for a man that age.”

He gave her an indecipherable look, but only nodded. “I’m going to replace both porches for him.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “He’s not having any of those gaudy colors, though. His Emmie always said a white house is dignified, and he won’t insult her memory by getting fancy.”

Erin laughed. “I can just hear him. Oh, dear. Have I shocked all the neighbors?”

“Mrs. Zatloka likes the colors you painted the house. Even the pink.” He grinned. “Mister is dubious.”

“Ryan’s wife loves the colors. She’s thinking about shades of teal when they paint their house next year.”

“The old folks won’t recognize their neighborhood.”

Nanna wouldn’t have minded. Erin was sure of that. She sneaked a look at Cole, who picked up a slice of the bread. “I hope you like raisins. And walnuts.”

“There’s not much I don’t like. I just don’t want you feeling like you have to do all this for me.”

She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. She shouldn’t feel prickly, but she did. “If you want a loaf, you’re welcome to it. If not, I won’t be insulted. I’m planning to give away a couple more. I’ve resolved to get to know the neighbors. I was ashamed when I met Ryan and realized how I’ve been hibernating.”

“A few of them can use fattening up,” he said with a sidelong smirk.

She laughed, as he’d no doubt intended, then let the silence ride for a few minutes. The fact that he’d readily mentioned prison food encouraged her to ask questions.

“In prison. Was it violent, the way the news makes it sound?”

The look he sent her wasn’t encouraging. But after a minute, he said, “It can be.” Pause. “Except when tensions between gangs are especially high, the worst is when you’re new. You have to…establish yourself as someone it’s not worth messing with.” He looked out over the yard. “I was lucky, being a big guy. I was also young, stupid and stunned, but I took up weight lifting right away, bulked up.”

“Were you in fights?”

Another quick glance. “Yeah.”

Erin rested her chin on her knees. “Did you ever see anything really awful?” Lord. Was this what she’d been working her way around to? Did she need to know whether he could understand what she’d seen, experienced?

This time the silence went on so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer. But he did, his voice rough. “Hard not to. Once I saw a guy get knifed in the shower.”

She pressed her hand to her mouth.

“I knew dead when I saw it. I kept walking, got dressed and was out of there before his body was reported.” His tone was unemotional, yet tinged with darkness. “When they asked, I said I’d left a couple minutes earlier than I really did. Didn’t see a thing.”

“Because if you’d identified the killer—” She could hardly whisper.

“I’d have been dead, too,” he said flatly. Not giving her a chance to say anything else, he surged to his feet, walked down the steps and went up to his apartment.

Erin didn’t move for at least five minutes, but he didn’t reappear. She carried the wrapped loaf of pumpkin bread back into the house.