When everyone’s gaze swung in his direction, Jason couldn’t even pretend he hadn’t spent hours weighing the job. “I want to, but only if I’m the right guy for this.” He wiped both hands on his jeans. Sweaty palms surprised him. This was a low-risk situation. Saying no would be easy enough. He had no obligation to say yes.
Except he could help people who needed it.
He could do something that mattered without upsetting his mother or getting a degree in accounting.
And he could get a taste of what this career might be from the inside. If he hated it, he could save himself time and money.
But if he enjoyed it and was good at it, he could go on and get the degrees he needed while he worked.
He shrugged. “I guess I could give it a try.” When Reyna’s frown turned into a scowl, he cleared his throat. “Sorry. I tend to downplay things when I’m nervous, but I’d very much like to have this job. I’ve been floating along because none of the usual paths fit me. It’s frustrating. For years, I’ve had work to do, a clear job, but now... I can understand how people get into trouble. I want to help. This is where I’d like to take my shot.” He shifted in his seat. “I’ve had a few ideas I could run by Michelle or Eric. Small groups for Concord students going to Sawgrass or set up monthly for anyone who wants to drop in, whether they have a job or need a different one. Just a place to talk about the transition from military work to civilian.”
Reyna nodded while Brisa sparkled at him. It was hard to call what she did a smile, because it gleamed.
“Do you have time to follow me back to my office?” Eric asked. “I brought all kinds of information on the programs you’ll need for job counseling, but I didn’t bring a thing regarding social work.” He clapped a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Believe me, a guy with your background could do so much good in this case.”
Jason tapped his foot on the floor and wondered if it could be that simple. “I have a job.” He tasted, no savored the words.
“And I’ll help you pick some classes for the fall semester. Registration opens on Friday.” Eric leaned back. “Unless you have them chosen already.”
“Keep me out of the language building,” Jason muttered. Whatever happened between him and Angela, he didn’t want to put it on hold for an entire semester because he was reading British literature.
“Well, Spanish would be a big help, but okay. You don’t have to learn a new language.” Eric rubbed his hands together. “Introduction to Social Work is happening this fall. That could be a good place to start. I’m not teaching it, but it gives a good foundation for all the things you can do with the degree.”
Jason offered him a hand to shake again. “I had that one on my list. I’ll do it, professor. Thanks so much for the suggestion. If it’s all right, I’ll drop by on Friday when I’m at registration.”
Eric shook hands and then stood. “Do you need my office number?” He rummaged in his pockets. “Why do I never have a business card when I need one?”
Jason waved a hand and very obviously did not look at his therapist. “I’m sure I can find it.”
Eric pointed at a box near the desk. “We can talk over what I brought, too. There’s a paper with websites listed, and several books you can loan out to people who need direction on where to start job hunts, résumés, that kind of thing. If you have a minute, take a look at them.” He gave a quick wave and then stepped outside into the heat.
Brisa stood. “Want to see your office?”
His office? Jason glanced quickly around the room, as if someone was going to jump out and yell “surprise.”
“It’s the shared space I showed you. For all of our programs, I have that office set aside so that my contractors can meet with their clients in a neutral space.” Reyna pointed down a short hallway opposite the door. “It’s a desk. There are filing cabinets. I’ll give you your own locked drawers, but it’s not your office.”
“Our office, I suppose I should say,” Brisa said over her shoulder as she led him down the hallway. “Until Reyna agrees I’m here to work instead of to desert her when she needs me most, I won’t get my own real estate, either. So far, only Sean and Reyna rate their own dedicated spaces, but we can dream, right?”
She flashed the megawatt smile at him again and then strode out confidently like a model.
Jason stopped inside the door, hands on his hips as he surveyed the space. It was clean. Minimal. The desk was modern to match the decor, and a computer was set up right in the middle.
“It doesn’t have a lot of personality, but it will get the job done.” Michelle was propped against the doorjamb behind him. “Congrats on the job.”
“I can’t believe it’s that easy. I should buy a lottery ticket today,” Jason said.
“Everything is coming up Jason.” Michelle stepped inside. “It would be a good day to go after the brass ring, the final frontier, the moon.”
Jason absorbed that as he moved to sit behind the desk.
Michelle arranged an imaginary hat on her head. “Therapist hat. How does the fact that Reyna, a decorated veteran with nothing but the highest honors, respects you enough to ask you to come work here...” She studied his face. “How does that make you feel? She knows your whole story, right? The accident. The amputation. The difficulty you’ve been having getting your life started. Is there a piece she’s missed?”
“You know I understand that this is a problem I created in my head, this expectation that other people would pity me or worse. I’ve let it mess up my life enough already.” He drummed his fingers on the desk and realized everything he was saying was correct. It had all been in his head. All of his problems loomed large enough to keep him stuck in one place in fear, but they were mostly imaginary what-ifs that were never going to come true. “The next time I visit my therapist, I need to talk to her about the ways I shoot myself in the foot, do dumb stuff to protect my delicate feelings from something that might never come.”
Michelle pretended to make a mental note. “You aren’t all that unusual, you know. So many people do that, tell themselves they can’t want something, whatever it is that you’re thinking about now, because they’re afraid of how badly it will hurt if they’re disappointed.” She cleared her throat. “So many people. Good people. All the people in this room, in fact.” She grinned when he glanced up. “Yeah, if you decide to go into social work or therapy, do not do it because you believe you’ll have all the answers for your own life. My therapist had to teach me that.” She took off her imaginary hat and tossed it on an imaginary hat rack. “The best news I have for you is, whatever you’ve messed up, you have time to fix it.”
Jason stared hard at his hands. He could. All it would take was swallowing his pride, and at this point, he should have enough experience that he could make it go down easy.
“I have a new job. I have a plan for the fall semester. My townhouse is comfortable. All of that I owe to Reyna and Concord Court.” Jason tried to remember the last time he was so calm, so certain that everything was going to work out for him.
Michelle held up her hand to tick off points. “The leg is healing. You’re making friends in a new town. You are running again, something that was important to you. It’s almost as if all those things we talked about in our first session, the ones you were afraid were never going to come and you’d be left a miserable lump on the sidelines, have fallen into place. Did a wise person tell you they would?” Before he could answer, she waved both hands. “Never mind. As your therapist, I would never say it as plainly as that.” She tapped a finger to her chin. “There’s still something missing, though. What could it be?”
Jason cleared his throat. “A therapist who says ‘I told you so.’ I’m amazed.” He stood. “The relationship. You said it should come last.”
She blinked slowly. “I did? That doesn’t sound like me.”
Jason chuckled. “Okay, maybe I said
that. And she showed up out of order.” He scrubbed both hands over his face. “I wasn’t ready.”
Michelle grinned. “Yeah, okay. Get ready.” Then she turned on her heel and walked out. “See you later this week. I expect progress.”
Should he be mad? Maybe. She had to be breaking some kind of rule regarding his client privilege.
It was hard to be mad when he understood more with every tick of the clock that she was right. There was still time. Not quite eleven o’clock. Plenty of time to make it to Domino Park to find out whether Angela would even listen to what he wanted to say.
Brisa stuck her head into the room. “Everything okay in here?”
“Perfect. Just perfect.” Jason trotted toward the lobby’s front door, and the pinch of the prosthesis, which had definitely never been built for movements like that, stopped him. He braced himself against the wall and twisted his leg, impatient with the pain. “Come on, leg. Don’t make me replace you with my robot hardware.”
Brisa raised both eyebrows. “Interesting.”
He didn’t have time to explain, so the story tumbled out. “Injury from my time in the service. I have the wrong prosthesis on for running, but I want to go fast.”
She stepped back and hugged the wall to make plenty of room. “Then let me get out of your way. Walk fast. That’s just about as good in my experience.” She pointed at the sandals she was wearing, the heels sky high. “No running in these, either.”
Jason pointed at the office as he limped around her. “I’ll be back tomorrow. I want to go through the files that Westinghouse left and set up a schedule.”
Brisa pursed her lips. “Good plan. Jot this down on your list. Find out how much you’ll be paid.” Then she raised her eyebrows, the twinkle in her eyes almost as dangerous as the sparkle that came with every smile. She was a knockout, but she was wasting his time right now.
“Good note. Thanks!” Jason walked as fast as he could toward the door and wished he’d driven his truck that morning. Maybe he should switch prostheses. The urge to run would not go away.
“It’s what I do. Fill in the details,” Brisa called out as he stepped through the door. The heat hit him in the face and sweat beaded up immediately but he didn’t slow down his determined, although slower than he wanted, walk.
Soon he’d ask about an upgraded everyday alternative to this prosthesis. This was his life. He had to be able to live it.
After hours and hours that were probably minutes, he slid behind the wheel of his truck. This time he knew where he was going. He knew what he was going to do. Through all of it, this was the piece he’d been missing. The leg, the job, the classes—all of it was secondary to this. He pulled out of the parking spot, ready to find the woman who would make it all matter.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ANGELA NERVOUSLY TAPPED out a pattern on the paper bag she held in her lap and tried to soak in the peace of the bench under the banyan tree. It was a beautiful day. She had shade. Over her shoulder, people played dominoes. Occasionally, snippets of conversation floated in her direction, but it was only background noise.
When Mae showed her Jason’s post, Angela hadn’t had a good response, but she didn’t want to discuss all of the back-and-forth with Jason. He’d said some things that pinched, but most of all, he’d moved on. What was this about?
“But you’re still sitting here, aren’t you?” Angela muttered and tried again to squash the hope that this meant another chance. It kept popping up.
“If you want people to avoid this bench, talking to yourself is a good plan.” Jason slid down on the bench next to her and straightened his left leg out with a wince. She’d seen him do the same thing enough times to be annoyed with herself that she’d never asked about it. Not once.
“I don’t know if these sandwiches are as good as the ones we had before,” Jason said as he put a bag between them, “but I promised lunch.”
Angela waved the bag she’d clenched with both hands. “I brought dessert.” She pulled out her phone. “Let’s talk about that promise.” She pulled up his post to read, “‘Roses are red, and they’re pretty in a bunch, meet me in the park at one, and let’s do lunch.’” She frowned. “You already have more likes than I ever get and you started the account today. How?”
He shrugged. “Poetry. That has to be the answer.” He held up one finger. “Rhyming poetry. Have you ever tried it? People really enjoy the rhyme.”
Angela rolled her eyes, her reluctant chuckle a relief. She’d been so worried they’d never get back to this easy type of conversation after their argument. “Does Mira know about all this?”
“Nope, but I’ll tell her. I’ll tell all the guys around the pool.” Jason stretched an arm along the bench, his hand resting against her back. The pose was familiar but different. “I’m going to talk to my friends about all the great things that happened to me today. Mira is a friend. A good friend. She kicks me out of my rut, but that’s all. I didn’t realize you thought we were dating until after you left.” The smooth tug on her hair as he rubbed strands between his finger and thumb was...
She shook her head. He was stealing her breath right there. “How did it all go so wrong, that last conversation?” This was important. She needed the answer, but his touch drew her closer.
This time she didn’t have to worry about keeping space between them.
“When you said everything changed, I assumed you meant my leg. I couldn’t do all the things you wanted to do to show your ex you were better off without him.” As she studied his face, she could see nothing but open emotion. He wasn’t hiding anything. “I was lashing out because sometimes I do that, but I’m doing all the right things to get over that. My therapist told me so.”
His virtuous pose made her smile, which was what he wanted. He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek before she knew it was bothering her. Almost as if it was one of those subconscious habits that you might pick up over a lifetime of love with someone.
Was this going to be a thing? The urge to stand up and pace was strong as she made her case, but she didn’t want to break their connection.
She wanted to be in that kind of love, the one where she was so comfortable with another person that she showed it without thinking.
Angela closed her eyes. Love. No one had said anything about love between them yet. They’d just started speaking again.
Well, he was speaking. She wasn’t doing much to hold up her end of the conversation.
“You have a therapist. I have an old guy on a ghost tour.” Angela nodded as he raised an eyebrow. “I was saying what I thought was right. I don’t need a date to the wedding, a man around, to be happy. I don’t. I can do whatever I put my mind to, with or without you, Jason Ward.” She watched his frown form. “But now that I found you, I want you around. You make everything better.”
“Even with the falls and the moods and the...” His eyebrows shot up. “I do have a job now. I’ll be a job counselor at Concord Court. I’m also going to explore social work as a degree, so I’m not without some plans.”
Angela tilted her head to the side and realized he was waiting for her verdict. He was nervous he wasn’t good enough for her?
“Jason. Listen.” She licked her lips as she considered her words and every thought evaporated as his stare locked on her mouth. That kiss. They were going to have it. Finally. “I believe you can do anything you want to. I have always believed that. The day we met at the administration building? I was pretty sure you could beat those kids at their game and then melt their Frisbees down with the power of your mind. You give off this... It’s a feeling I have. When you are around, I don’t have to worry. Whatever comes at you, you can handle it.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know how to say it any other way. I can make plans. You can make whatever blows up those plans work. You could be a poet or an accountant or a soldier or whatever you decide. I’ve always know
n that.”
“Can I be your plus-one to this wedding?” Jason asked, his lips curled up in a small smile. “I do not have a captain’s uniform, but I’ll buy a new suit.”
Angela rested her head on his shoulder. “Rodney is going to flip when I change my answer.”
“Then at least I’ll have fulfilled part of my role.” Jason’s laugh rumbled under her ear.
“I couldn’t re-create the whole day. No stage or loud salsa music, and no dancer yelling out steps,” Jason said. “But I’m glad you came.”
She tapped the bag of guava pastries she’d picked up. “I tried them already. They’re not quite as good as the ones we had last time, but they’re nice.”
“You already ate one of these? The pastries you brought me as a gift?” Jason asked and then laughed out loud. “That might be worse than loosening your tie after too many mimosas.”
“Is that rude? I didn’t think you’d mind.” She squeezed her eyes shut. It was rude. She’d sampled his pastries before giving them to him. Covering her eyes with her hands wouldn’t make her invisible, but it might keep her from melting through the bench. “Your mother told me about Harry’s tie, too. I didn’t understand the problem. Maybe I’m not good at dating.”
Jason moved the pastry bag aside and ran his hand under the fall of her hair to gently squeeze the tight muscles on her neck. Maybe she wouldn’t die of embarrassment. She didn’t want to miss his kiss. She could die after. “I was nervous, I guess. I’m sorry. Dating me will mean more missteps. There could also be skydiving. Mermaid theater. An opinionated teenage girl. The ex-husband who still takes up too much space in my head, his new wife and baby.”
He repeated the slow massage across the aching muscles in her shoulders.
Angela crossed her leg and celebrated inside when he turned to watch the way her foot moved. They were going to be okay.
“With me, there will be literal missteps. Falling. Bruised egos and the occasional moody silence.” Jason shook his head. “But I love family drama.”
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