I can smell her shampoo—or perfume, though she doesn’t seem the type—and the light orange scent draws me in.
“Yep. I put flyers up everywhere I can when I settle in a new city. Doesn’t usually take more than a week or two before I have enough work to pay the bills. My pops used to do the same thing. When you only stay somewhere for six months to a year, it’s too hard to find a full-time gig.”
“How come you move around so much?”
Warning bells go off in my head, tension radiating down my spine. This is why I don’t let myself make friends. It’s never very long before they start asking questions I can’t risk answering.
Shrugging, I offer the safe, practiced response I’ve honed over the years. “My pops liked it. He’d pick a place on the map every year—at most—and we’d hit the road. Start fresh somewhere new.”
“Wasn’t that hard on you and your sister? Leavin’ y’all’s friends all the time?”
Fuck.
“Mae…died when I was fourteen,” I say quietly. “She would have hated that life. Pops and I didn’t start moving around until after…”
The look on Raelynn’s face about does me in. Until I realize it’s probably the same damn look I had when she told me about her husband.
“It was a long time ago.” I hike my backpack higher on my shoulder, pausing for a second to squeeze the bag. Yep, Bandit’s safely tucked inside.
Raelynn’s eyes hold so many questions, but she snaps her mouth shut, then turns to stare out the front windows while Frank’s voice plays on a loop in my memories.
“Don’t ever talk about your family, Nash. Anyone you confide in could sell you out to the DeLuca family. Or worse. You’ll make them a target too.”
I’d scoffed at him for the warning. The DeLucas don’t care about me. Why would they? I was fourteen, and they think I’m as dead as the rest of my family.
In almost twenty years, I’ve never said a thing about the horrors of my childhood—to anyone—and I’m just now realizing how lonely of a life that’s given me.
I want to tell Raelynn everything, but not even two decades on my own will make me that reckless. Still, now that I’ve started talking about Mae, it’s hard to stop.
“She was eight. Took after our Mom. Red curls, freckles, dimples.” I pop a lid on the to-go cup and take a sip of the latte. The rich flavor centers me, and my next breath is easier. “She loved playing hopscotch. Every couple of days, I’d draw a fresh grid for her in front of the house. She had a special rock, and no one was allowed to touch it unless they were playing with her.”
A smile curves Raelynn’s lips as she studies me. “I bet she won every time.”
“Damn straight. She was undefeated.” Setting my bag on the closest table, I dig into the side pocket for my keys. “I haven’t thought about that in years.”
“Do you have a picture of her?”
All the lightness in my heart is sucked out so fast, I can practically hear the whoosh. “No.”
Her brows shoot up, one hand molding to her hip. “What in tarnation…? Why not?”
Change the subject! Now!
I shrug, hoping she’ll leave it alone. “One of the hazards of moving so much. I guess they all got lost over the years. We should get going. I’m parked on the next block.” Once we’re outside, my palm finds its way to the small of her back. “Did you sleep okay?”
Raelynn hesitates for a moment, squinting up at me in the morning light before she scans the street with a sigh. “Not great. Six weeks ago, I about dislocated my shoulder. The crash jacked it up again. If the doc makes me restart my physical therapy, I’m gonna be in a real horn-tossin’ mood.”
I almost spit out the sip of coffee. “Where do you come up with this shit?”
Her laugh is like a slow, languid, kiss—so damn sexy, my jeans feel tight. Until a guy in a dark gray suit bumps into me. I manage to hold onto the latte, but he isn’t so lucky, and a full cup of dark roast from Siren Coffee spills down his shirt.
“Shit. Sorry.” I stop, unsure what the hell to do as he blots at his chest with a green handkerchief. “I didn’t see you—”
“It was my fault,” he says, balling up the wet silk. “I wasn’t watching where I was going…” Brows drawn together, he looks from me to my cup and back again. After a pause so long, it crosses the border into uncomfortable, he clears his throat. “You live around here?”
The edge of my key digs into my palm. I don’t like the intensity of his stare. Or how he takes a step closer when I don’t answer right away. “In Seattle? Yeah. Why?”
The guy doesn’t move until Raelynn clears her throat. “We got a problem?”
