He wanted a do-over. And not just for now, but for before too. For her: he wanted her not to have lived through hell. He wanted to meet a younger, happier Uma, whose life hadn’t been destroyed by that son of a bitch. And for himself too. Who would he be if he turned back time to before prison, before the biggest mistake of his life?
Suddenly, he wished the woman he wanted could look at him like he was one of those normal, straight-backed citizens, rather than one of the losers slinking their way out of the courthouse.
In an unconscious gesture, he reached down, expecting warm fur and finding only air.
Shit. He was so used to having Squeak by his side. What the hell would she do if he went back to prison? Jessie’d take her, but what about everyone else? Ornery, the mean cat, and Gertie, the rug cat, and all the others. And what about Pepe, the baby skunk? Not to mention any animals that were bound to show up some day in the future, looking for help.Ah hell.He couldn’t leave them.
Not only that, but he didn’t want to.
He realized with a jolt that helikedthe guy he’d become. This man whose experiences were etched into his face, the way Uma’s were etched into her body. By that same token, he understood that what was between them—this intense, unexpected caring between two near strangers—would never have happened if they hadn’t beenexactlywho they were today. They were united by their histories as much as their chemistry.
And he liked that fucked-up quality people got when they’d survived the shit life threw at them. They came through the other side stronger, maybe less whole, but with more grit. He liked Ms. Lloyd’s crazy limp and the notch in Squeak’s ear. He liked that Ornery was, well,ornery. And hell, he liked how Uma’s sweet, soft core was covered in an exoskeleton of pure fucking titanium.
I promised not to do this. I solemnly swore.The thought rose up, like a vengeful phoenix from the ashes of his idiocy.If I do it anyway, I’m betraying her just like Joey did.
He had to go back. Now. Before it was too late, he had to go back and—
“Excuse me, sir?”
Ive blinked before turning to face a pair of police officers who’d approached him from the sidewalk. Behind them, a squad car sat quiet, its blue lights on.
“Yeah?”
“We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Um, sure.” He blinked again. Sweat, he realized, sweat in his eyes on this cold fucking day.
Beside him, the door to the building opened, and a man strutted out.
Holy shit. It’s him.
He squinted at the loud blue shirt and tie beneath the guy’s expensive-looking gray suit, then let his eyes move back to the face.JosephfuckingChisholm.
Ive had no trouble recognizing him from his picture, even with the phone pressed to the man’s ear. He stalled by the door, engrossed in his conversation.
One of the cops spoke, and Ive had to unglue his eyes from the man to focus on this new problem.
“Uh, sorry. What’s that?”
“What’s your business here today, sir?”
“I, um…” He swallowed, brain divided, eyes flicking from them to the man on the phone.
“I knew you’d come to your senses, sweetheart,” Joey said, his voice slimy and pleased.
The cops again, talking, and Ive swung back, feeling weird. Wrong.
“Wait, wait, I need…”
“Of course I’ll come. You know I want to see you. I’ve been waiting for you to call.”
A hand clamped onto Ive’s arm, and he almost shook it off before remembering where he was, who he was with. Just in time, he stopped, stilled, held his breath.
“Sir, we need you to come with us.”
“Stop that man,” he said, wanting to struggle. “He hurt a woman. That was her on the phone. He’s—”
“Sir, you need to calm down. Now.”
