Her hand traveled to his shoulder, and her thumb traced his collarbone through his shirt. His eyes closed, his pulse jumped, and soon his own hand sought out the hot skin of her neck. Fingers danced on both sides. His near the shorter strands of her hair. Hers tightening around his collar, pulling him closer and closer until his lips trailed centimeters above the sharp line of her jaw.
Just one taste, and he’d pull away.
But as his lips brushed the patch of skin he’d imagined kissing more times than he cared to admit, a rush of guilt consumed him. Katie was vulnerable. She’d told him she didn’t like to feel. Told him she looked for ways to numb herself, and he’d almost given her permission to do the same with him. He abruptly let go, forcing space between them that was nonexistent just moments before.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean . . .” But he had meant it. Just not like this. Not as an afterthought or an escape, and especially not before he had time to truly grasp what this step would mean for both of them.
“It’s fine.” She pulled her hair back at the nape of her neck and then released it. She wouldn’t look at him. “I’m thirsty. Are you thirsty?” She grabbed her purse and slid out the open tailgate.
“Katie . . .” Her name lingered in the air, and the warning in the tight line of her mouth brought on a new surge of regret. He’d failed her. “I’ll take a root beer,” he said, even though his cooler was still full.
She glanced at the screen as the hero walked past a row of waiting soldiers. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna have a field day with this scene.” With a forced smile, she ducked out of his line of sight.
As it turned out, when it was needed, Katie could act with the best of them.
CHAPTER 16
Katie almost turned around twice but in the end found the courage to pull into Fairfield Fellowship on Sunday morning.
She’d been avoiding Asher, mostly because she needed to figure out what the heck she was feeling. Figure out why, when she’d hopped out of the car, half of her was grateful they’d stopped and the other half was furious at the horror in his expression.
Her mother’s words ticked inside her brain for the hundredth time.
I’ve seen his type. She was tall, blonde, innocent as a daisy, and practically wore a halo.
And Asher deserved all of that. He deserved someone good and honest. Not someone who would inevitably hurt him. So why did she feel so shaken?
Car doors slammed all around her, and the sanctuary stood boldly in her line of sight. She shouldn’t be here, not at Asher’s and Mary’s church. But she needed to feel some kind of encouragement, especially when she planned to confront a fire-breathing dragon this afternoon.
She’d made a decision. She’d go to that neighborhood. To her old dealer. And find out what he did with the ring. She’d find a way to make it right again.
With a determined sigh, Katie walked down the sidewalk to the entrance. She’d come on time today so she could be sure to get to the far right side, away from Mary Blanchard’s seat. Not that Mary would shun her. What Katie dreaded was worse: Mary would be kind and loving and completely oblivious to Katie’s betrayal.
The glass door swung open before she could reach for it.
“Good morning.” An old man greeted her with a smile. He had a full gray beard and wore black slacks and a polo shirt with the church’s logo stitched on the front.
“Morning,” she said, and stepped through the door with her head lowered.
She moved past a gaggle of people who stood in a circle talking and found the seat she wanted. Her row was empty, as was the one in front of her. Katie fumbled with her Bible, searching for anything to read while she worked to remain unnoticed.
The voices around her grew louder, and a few people slid by her to get to the inside seats. She kept her head down and held her breath until they were seated and engaged in conversation amongst themselves.
“Hi.”
The new voice came from in front of her, but she didn’t look up.
“Is this your first time at Fellowship?” the voice persisted.
Katie swallowed, no longer able to deny that the woman was talking to her. She raised her head and let out a breath of relief when she didn’t recognize the lady.
The woman had twisted in her seat, draping her elbow over the chair. Her brown hair was curly and impeccably styled and hung just above her shoulders. But what pushed Katie past her unease were the kind eyes and genuinely warm smile that awaited her answer.
“Second time,” Katie choked out. She did a quick check to her right and left. The sanctuary was even more full than it had been the last time she’d come. More people would see her. More people would talk. It seemed the buzz in town had been fairly quiet, but she doubted that would continue, especially after the little field trip she had planned for later that day.
“I’m Annie. We moved to Fairfield a couple of years ago, and half the time I forget who all I’ve met.”
So Annie was a transplant. Good. “I’m Katie. I was born here, but I just recently moved back to town.”
“Really? Well, I love it here. When my husband picked this small town, I thought he’d lost his mind, but who knew we’d be so happy?”
This woman liked Fairfield? Moved here on purpose?
“Why?” Katie muttered before realizing she’d spoken out loud. “I mean, why did you move here?”
“My husband works in Jacksonville, but the prices anywhere near the city were outrageous. We found this amazing plot of land with twenty acres for a third of the price we would have paid in Florida. And it’s a good thing we grabbed it when we did. Word is getting out about this town, and land values have skyrocketed. An hour from Jacksonville, thirty minutes from the coast . . . it’s really amazing Fairfield has stayed so small.”
Katie’s mouth surely hung open. Since when had Fairfield become desirable? They were only a few miles from swampland, and she’d always considered her small town to be the armpit of the Southeast.
The band started their set, and the congregation stood.
Annie turned around fully and rested one knee on her seat cushion. “So, we have a home group that meets on Wednesday nights. Since you’re just getting settled, I’d love for you to come. There’s only about eight of us, so it’s real casual.”
Home group? What the heck was a home group? “Um, yeah, okay, maybe.” Never. Not happening. Why was this woman still talking to her?
Annie tore a piece of paper from her notebook and scribbled in handwriting as cheerful and bubbly as she was. “Here is the information with my phone number and address. So nice to meet you. I really hope you come.” With one last grin, she turned back around and stood next to her husband.
The paper crinkled in Katie’s hand and she rose slowly.
Judgment, she’d expected. Cold shoulders, quiet mutters, rude glances. All those things came with the territory of attending church in her hometown.
But friendliness? An invitation to someone’s house?
Mind-blowing.
Katie didn’t see Asher until the end of the service, when he stood and greeted a bunch of his parents’ friends.
He was in a suit today with no tie. His sandy blond hair curled just slightly over his ears, and his mouth moved in short sentences. She’d spent enough time with him to know he wasn’t relaxed. His neck and shoulders were strained, and his attention kept drifting to the left side of the sanctuary.
Curiosity got the better of her, and Katie let her gaze roam across the seats where several people still mingled in bunches and a few kids ran between the rows, laughing.
She stopped her search when her eyes landed on long, bleached-blonde hair, carefully arranged over one shoulder. The girl was store-bought pretty, with too much makeup and a dark tan that looked like it had been sprayed on. Katie knew the difference because Laila had the same coloring, only hers was natural.
The girl wore a long, strappy sundress with multiple thin bracelets on one wrist. H
er other hand was latched on to the arm of an equally attractive guy with extra-broad shoulders and short brown hair. With their plastered-on smiles, the two could star in a toothpaste commercial.
Was that really Asher’s ex? Was that the type of girl who appealed to him?
Katie stared down at the dress she’d last worn under her high-school graduation gown. It wasn’t ugly or too out of style, but it certainly wouldn’t land her on any “best dressed” lists. Neither would her flip-flops and cheap hoop earrings. She’d been called white trash her whole life but had never owned the title. But compared to Asher and his blonde Barbie, that was exactly how she felt now.
Her old minister’s words pushed through her doubt. God doesn’t care what you wear on the outside. He only cares about the condition of the heart. Reverend Snow had said a lot of things to Katie that no one had before. Things that pulled her out of her darkness and depression. He’d also found her a job, a rented room at a church member’s house, and a prayer partner. She’d gone from homeless to cared for in less than a week.
She clutched those memories and ignored the pressure building in her chest. She’d find the ring, get her parents secured, and then return to the people who cared. People who didn’t see her as the queen of darkness or the town misfit. She was in Fairfield for closure. Period.
Without another look in Asher’s direction, Katie left the church.
Slim would still be home, if he hadn’t moved. He never took calls before two in the afternoon. She knew because she’d tried so many times to get him to.
His neighborhood was just south of downtown and past the railroad tracks. Katie’s beater of a car moaned as she rolled over the metal brackets. The wood between the rails was rotten and broken, creating huge dips for her small tires to traverse.
Familiarity tugged at her. She’d traveled this route a thousand times. Through high school, after graduation. Even after Laila got married and quit partying, Katie still craved the high. It was the thing that had kept Cooper and her together. The thing that kept her dependent on him long after he’d shown her his darker side.
Slim’s house was down the hill and to the right, tucked behind three duplexes and the old fire station. It wasn’t the worst area in town, but Katie had rarely gone there without a buddy. She passed an old Dodge Dynasty up on blocks, its rims either stolen or pawned. A string of empty beer cans littered the yard next to Slim’s, and she had no doubt there were pipes and syringes among the debris.
Saying one last silent prayer, she pressed the doorbell. It’d been four years since that night. Four years since she stood right in this very spot and made the worst decision of her life.
No answer. She rang the bell again.
Finally, she heard several clicks and the door swung open. Slim was in boxers with no shirt. A long scar ran down his right side and into the dragon tattoo that started at his hip. In his hand was a pistol pointed toward the floor.
“Katie Stone. I heard a rumor you were back.” He spoke like a well-bred southerner, not the drug-dealing street thug he was. “Only you would have the nerve to come here this early on a Sunday.” He set down the gun on a nearby table and opened the door wider. “Come in.”
Katie swallowed. She wasn’t dressed for this. She needed her ripped jeans and black mascara. She needed the old attitude that had slipped away months ago. “No thanks. I’m not staying.”
“Baby, you know I don’t do business in public.” That was a lie, but she knew he’d much rather corner her in his house. It would give him control and the upper hand.
Katie clamped her fingers tight to keep the shaking under control and didn’t move from her spot outside his door. “I’m not here to buy. I want to know what happened to the ring. The one I traded before I left town.”
His lips quirked up as his gaze drifted over her body. “I offered a different trade. One that didn’t require you to give up your precious jewelry. You declined.”
A shiver curled down her spine. Four years might have changed her, but he was the same slimeball he’d always been.
“I want the ring back. I’ll pay you what you spotted me, with interest.” Katie had just enough in savings to cover the debt, unless the amount of interest he charged would make the exchange impossible.
Slim’s feigned amicability faded, and his face grew caustic. Katie knew she was navigating a minefield. He didn’t like complications or loose strings. He expected payment in cash. He’d made an exception for her only because doing so benefited him at the time.
“I’m not a storage unit, Katie. I moved that ring the minute you left with your score.”
Her chest caved. She’d known he’d probably sold it long ago, but there’d been that tiny sliver of hope that maybe . . . “Who did you sell it to?”
He stepped toward her, but she didn’t budge. She couldn’t show fear. “Now you’re in my business. And you know what happens when people get nosy.”
The possibilities sent a chill through her bloodstream. But she met his eyes and stared into their cold, dark depths. “The cut wasn’t right. I don’t know if you were trying to save money or if you laced it with something stronger, but either way: you knew that supplier was shady, and you let me take it anyway. That’s why you did the trade. It wasn’t a favor to me, it was an experiment.” She knew from the tic in his jaw that her calculated guess was spot on. “I could have ratted you out, could have blown up your reputation on my way out of town, but I didn’t. That loyalty should matter now.”
He was close enough that Katie could smell his nicotine-coated breath. She wanted to shove him back but knew better than to try. He’d taken much bigger men to their knees for less. He didn’t say a word, and each second that passed curled her insides tighter and tighter.
“Who did you sell it to?” She stood motionless, nose to nose with a man who’d done jail time for assault and many more crimes he’d never been nailed for.
His expression darkened. “There are six pawnshops within fifty miles of Fairfield. I use them all.” He roughly grabbed her chin. “That enough information for your loyalty?”
Katie slapped his hand away. She wasn’t one to be manhandled without a fight.
He only smirked and stepped back over the threshold into his duplex. “Don’t come to my house again unless you plan to make it worth my time.”
Katie fought rising nausea as Slim slammed the door right in her face.
CHAPTER 17
A warm breeze blew through Katie’s car as she drove home, cooling her flushed skin. Driving down country roads with her hair whipping around her face had always brought a sense of calm. And she needed something to tamp her growing anticipation. After leaving Slim’s, she’d stopped by the library to research pawnshop locations. One was in town; the other five were each twenty to forty minutes away, in an array of directions.
Her fingers tingled. The printed list of addresses was the first tangible sign that her new mission might actually work, even if she lacked the courage to start searching. For today, having that piece of possibility in her hand was enough.
A new Ford F-250 was parked in the grass when Katie made the turn into her driveway. The gleaming blue paint sparkled in the sun, and Katie felt a twinge of envy when she cut the ignition of her rusty vehicle. She’d had a picture of that same truck on her vanity mirror for years. Super Duty. Lariat.
She strolled by the truck, trying to appear casual, and peeked in the window. Wood grain. Leather.
Footsteps crunched across the gravel. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Just got her last week.”
The muscles in Katie’s neck coiled tight.
Cooper’s hand landed on the truck bed next to her. “I guess all those years of you staring at that picture finally had some influence on me.”
Knowing Cooper, he likely bought the truck just to spite her. “So you came here to gloat?”
“You didn’t really think you’d run me off that easy, did you?” The calm in his voice was more alarming than his rage. Both of which
Katie knew well.
She met his eyes. “What do you want?”
He reached inside the truck bed and pulled out a Freon tank. “Right now I want to fix your parents’ air conditioner. You seem to have forgotten it, but we take care of our own in this town.”
He dropped the metal cylinder on the ground and raised himself to his full height. He wore jeans and a green John Deere T-shirt that was well past its prime. She remembered that shirt. Remembered way too much about their two-year relationship.
“The unit’s around the back,” her dad called from the porch. “Braves play in twenty minutes. Let’s get this done.”
Cooper grinned. “Mind if I stick around and watch the game?” His question was for her father, but he never took his eyes off her.
“You get my house cool and you can even stay for dinner. Katie’s got something cooking in the Crock-Pot that smells so good my mouth’s been watering for an hour.”
Despite the compliment, Katie cringed, and of course, Cooper noticed. He winked and stalked toward her dad, Freon cylinder in hand. “I’d love to. I miss Katie’s cooking.” The two of them stomped around the side of the house until they disappeared.
She trudged toward the front steps, all her earlier victory sucked away.
Her mom waited at the top, balancing herself on a new, sturdier three-pronged cane. “Should I say I told you so now, or later?”
Katie shook her head, refusing to answer. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”
It was a sad escape. The air upstairs was thick and suffocating. Katie stripped out of her dress, tugged on thin athletic shorts and a tank top, and pulled her hair into a ponytail. Even with the layers of clothing gone, sweat dripped past her temple.
The ceiling fan spun overhead, rattling as if it were ready to sail across the room, but she didn’t dare turn it off. The breeze from its blades was the only bit of relief in the stuffy room, which still smelled of wet cardboard and dirty laundry.
My Hope Next Door Page 10