“Well, what cartoons did you watch?”
“I didn’t.”
Her eyebrows knitted together, and she exhaled. I half expected her to ask why, but instead… “Well, we’ll have to remedy that.”
I could feel the water circling my waist. The memories of my father were a well of poisonous water that constantly tried to pull me under. “It’s okay.”
“Um, no. You have some serious catching up to do. We’ve got the Snorkels, Care Bears…” She sucked in a sharp breath. “Surely you watched G.I. Joe?”
“Who?”
“It’s a way old show that I watched with my dad. We had this channel that only played old cartoons. They were the best.” Her face got reflective. “Or maybe they were so great because I got to watch them with my dad and Maya. Saturdays were family days after my mom died. We’d stay home, curl up on the couch, eat way too much Cookie Crisp, and watch cartoons all day.”
Her childhood sounded awesome. Mine… wasn’t.
“I bet that was fun.”
Her eyes held that sheen that she got when something hurt but she tried to hold it back. I’d witnessed it on my behalf quite a bit since my father returned. She didn’t broach the subject though. I appreciated that she hadn’t so far.
“It was.” She slung the T-shirt over her arm and picked a few more. “Okay, go try these on.”
I went to move and stopped. “Have you found anything?”
A shrug accompanied her answer. “Maybe, but I can’t afford them.”
My lips lifted slightly.
Her finger jabbed into my chest. “No. Go try those on.”
“I am your boss, you know.”
“We are not in Chicago.”
Before I could argue further, I found myself being pushed toward the changing room. “Go. Try those on so we can find another store.”
“You know, most women would want a man to pay for a shopping trip.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not most women,” she said as we reached the dressing room.
I faced her, and our eyes met. “I know.” That’s what I liked most about her. She wasn’t like most women who threw themselves at me. None of them wanted me. They wanted the benefits of being with me. I was all too familiar with what being used felt like and I was never letting that happen again.
After trying everything on, I left with three pairs of jeans and six new vintage T-shirts. I’ll admit the collector in me cringed at the idea of ripping the tags off fifty-year-old shirts, but they were meant to be worn.
We wandered around downtown Valle Perdido for another hour and finally found a thrift store. It was a little more upscale than most, and it only carried clothing, shoes, and accessories.
It wasn’t nearly as pricey as some of the other stores, but her eyes bugged out a few times when she flipped the price tag over. Eventually, she found a few things.
The few things that I knew she liked and put back, I secretly bought and had them delivered to the house. There was a no-return policy so… her practical side would win out and she’d wear them.
As we left the store, Thomas sidled up to me. “We had some guys watching the store.”
I scanned the area.
“They’re gone after realizing we weren’t alone. I didn’t see biker vests, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t Colter’s.”
“What are you two whispering about?”
Thomas locked eyes with me. Did I tell her? I didn’t want to scare her, but I also didn’t want her to think we were safe either. My friend shrugged. “I’ve got no advice for this one.”
