It feels dangerous. As though I’m some vigilante always looking over her shoulder for the law. But I’m not. I’m a woman who feels it’s her duty to do what she can to help others with an overbearing asshole of a father who happens to be the Sheriff.
Printed page in my hand, I sit on one of the few dry spots in the bandstand and stare down at the paper.
This isn’t about me. I don’t want accolades for what I’ve done, or even recognition. I just want to know that being held in that damn alley wasn’t a waste of time. That I can turn a shitty experience into something that matters.
It doesn’t take long before I hear the rumble of Jinx approaching. He swings the bike into a park at the curbside and dismounts, hanging his helmet before ruffling his hair. At first glance, he’s all brawn and cool nonchalance. His wide build and layered attire suggest strength and dissonance.
But he’s so much different beneath it all. Inside all the leather and denim is a teenage boy still wondering why he’s not enough.
Do we ever really grow up? Or do the things that shape us early on stay locked inside until the shell withers and dies?
I get the sudden urge to hug him—not just for his pain, but to ease mine also. To remind us both that we’re not alone in feeling vulnerable from time to time, but it doesn’t make us less.
It makes us more for being able to recognize it. Confront it, and name it.
“You look far too excited for someone who walked away from me last time we talked,” he remarks as he takes the few steps into the bandstand with me.
I’ve missed him more than I gave myself credit for.
“I have something I need help with.”
He bops his eyebrows, glancing to the side. “Don’t we all?”
“Sit down.” I pat the bench seat beside me. “You’re intimidating me by standing there, dominating the space.”
One raised eyebrow is all I get before he does as I ask and sits beside me.
It might not have been the wisest decision, considering that at this distance I can smell his leathery musk.Focus.
“Do you want to go first?”
He frowns.
“You messaged me saying you had something to tell me, remember.”
“Right.” Jinx sets his elbows to his knees and leans forward, scrubbing at his face. “I did.”
“Would it be easier if I faced the other way?”
He peeks at me from behind his hand and chuckles softly. “Maybe.”
I twist on the bench and stare at the barren rose bushes.
“I went to see a doctor,” he starts.
My stomach flutters.
“And he gave me something to help with, you know, my issue.”
I wriggle my toes in my shoes. The need to ask if it did help burns in my throat, but I utter a quiet, “Okay,” instead.
“It worked, Kyra.”
Screw this.I swivel back to face him. “It did?”Oh, hell no.Did he try it with someone else?
Maybe my panic is written on my face, or perhaps he can see the color drain as all my blood runs south, because Jinx takes one of my hands in his and gently strokes a thumb over the back as he says, “I watched your last post to test it out.”
Thank fuck.The adrenaline drains so fast that I swear I’m going to be sick. “You did?”
