“For dealing,” I continue. “Got mixed up with it in college. That probably also answers any basketball-related questions you might have,” I add with a cynical half-smile. “I fell into it due to pressures I was ill-equipped to handle at the time, and for a while, it was the escape I thought I needed. It escalated quickly into a multitude of substances, and my reliance on them eventually led to dealing. It got out of control.
“But I detoxed in prison, and I’ve stayed clean ever since. No relapses and no temptation.” I run a hand nervously through my hair, then add, “No problems with alcohol, either,” thinking of the concern my mom had raised a few weeks ago.
Bobby stares at me, his mouth twisted up in thought, and I hold my breath for the inevitable letdown. I’ve been here many times before … the moment when an amazing opportunity goes straight down the toilet because of my past. Sure, I’ve had a long and varied employment history, but many of those jobs were taken because they didn’t ask too many questions, or they just didn’t care. It’s not often I’ve had an opportunity like this one, with some real responsibility and a chance for upward mobility.
Finally, Bobby nods. “Figured it was something like that.”
So …” I start hesitantly. “Does that change your opinion of me?” I clear my throat. “Are you rescinding the offer?”
He grunts again, then shrugs. “Nope. Far as I’m concerned, a man’s entitled to a second chance.” Another shrug. “People make mistakes. God knows I’ve made my share, but my Ellie always forgave me. Never let me feel like less than ‘cause of it. The love of a good woman’ll do that for ya. You got a woman, Riley?”
I sigh. “No, sir, but I’m looking to change that.”
He waves a hand at me. “What’d I say about thissirbusiness? I don’t stand on formality. You’ll figure that out right quick if we’re gonna be workin’ together.”
I huff out a laugh, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “Alright,” I agree, nodding. Then decide to elaborate on my previous statement. “The truth is, I had a good woman, but I messed it up a long time ago. I’m back in town to make amends with a lot of people I hurt in the past. She’s one of them.” I press my lips together, feeling determined. “It’s a long shot, but I have to take it.”
Bobby grins his approval. “Damn right ya do.” Then he reaches across the desk and slaps me on the shoulder. “Good luck, kid.”
I’mleavingAroma’sashort while later, rounding the rear of the building towards my truck parked in the back lot, when I hear what sounds like a low growl. Freezing, I glance around, searching for the source of the noise. I don’t immediately see anything, but then I hear it again coming from the direction of the dumpster. Moving into the shadow of the building, I spot a scruffy little black and white dog crouched by a collection of food scraps next to the bin. The dog is most definitely a mutt, but it looks to have some terrier in it.
“Hey there, little guy,” I murmur, glancing around again to see if this guy has an owner nearby. Judging by the state of him—or her—it’s doubtful. The poor thing is filthy, the white of his fur near-gray with grime, and quite scrawny looking. No collar that I can see, either. It drops its body low to the ground at my approachand lets out another warning noise, lips lifting in a surprisingly intimidating snarl for something so small.
“Whoa, there,” I say quietly, crouching to appear less threatening. I’ve always loved dogs. It’s something Steph and I used to talk about, how we’d adopt one someday. Back in high school, she’d volunteered at the animal shelter and would often drive us both crazy, telling me about all the sweet little creatures who needed homes. We wished we were in a position to do it then, and I’ve thought about it a time or two since, but with the amount of moving around I did, it never made much sense or seemed like it would be fair to an animal. Things are different, now, though. I’m well on my way to some real stability for the first time in years.
I take another cautious step towards the tiny creature. It bares its teeth at me once more, but refrains from growling this time.
Progress?
The dog’s little body is quivering, whether with fear or anger, I’m not sure. Slowly, I drop to my knees, fishing around in my pocket for the granola bar my mother had tossed in my direction as I’d hurried out of the house this morning. I’d teased her about babying me, reminding her I was capable of getting my own breakfast—and had intended to stop at The Bean for something before heading over here for my meeting. She’d just smirked at me and replied that she was ‘making up for lost time.’ I’m thankful for it now as I unwrap the bar and extend it carefully towardsthe dog. I make a point of averting my gaze, doing my best to transmit an unthreatening air as I wait for it to approach.
A full minute goes by while the dog watches me suspiciously. I peek at it out of the corner of my eye, watching it repeatedly sniff the air, the granola bar no doubt beyond enticing to this poor, starving baby. Eventually, it takes a tentative step. Then another, warily creeping closer. I hold my body stiffly, afraid to make any sudden movements as the little dog finally approaches. It noses at the bar, shoving my hand a little to see how I’ll react. When I continue to avoid eye contact, with the bar still extended, it lunges, snatching it from my hand and then backing away again.
“That’s a good boy,” I murmur, allowing myself to look once more, then correct myself with a half-smile, “or girl.”
The little dog glances up at me, but only for a second before deciding it’s safe to return its focus to the granola, which it swallows down in just three bites.
Lowering from my knees to a seated position on the asphalt, I resign myself to a long afternoon.
I’m not leaving this poor thing here.
Done with its snack, the little dog studies me, then sits too, allowing me to see, at the angle, that it’s a boy.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say to him, then immediately feel silly. But the dog tilts his head, and his floppy ears twitch in what I know to be a sign of curiosity. So I continue. “My name’s Riley, and if you give me a chance, I can hook you up with some more food. Water too. I bet you’re thirsty.”
I know he doesn’t understand me, but he adjusts his position, relaxing a little more, and I know I’m making some progress here. Thankfully, it’s early enough in the day that nobody comes out with any garbage, and the activity in the parking lot is contained to a couple of cars on the far side. I continue to speak softly to the little guy, mostly nonsense, but …it works. It’s an hour before he approaches me again, and another until he lets me pet him, buthe does.
I tell him about last night and about Steph, finally allowing my mind to drift back to the moment when our lips had met. I’d stayed up most of the night reliving it, of course, analyzing every touch, every word. But this morning I’d forced myself to focus on my meeting with Bobby. Now, I’m free to continue dwelling on the memory. I pick apart the kiss, the moment Steph had relented. When her eyes had softened, and she’d melted into me.
It had been everything I’d dreamed of.
But then I’d pulled away.I’dstopped it. And I’m a fuckin’ idiot for having done it, for having denied her the release she’d so badly wanted, but it was in that moment, when I’d felt her body tighten, that my mind had finally caught up with what we were doing. WhatI’ddone. It wasn't cool, the way I’d essentially chased her down and cornered her. I’d pushed—too much. She was off guard, and I’d taken advantage. So … I’d halted the kiss. I knew it wasn’t right, even if touching her again had felt more right than anything else had in seventeen years.
“Something else was off, too,” I say to the little dog. “Something in her eyes …” I trail off, remembering the flash I’d seen right before I’d kissed her. It had been fleeting, I’d only glimpsed it for the briefest of moments, and once our lips had met, once I felt her soft body molding to mine, the thought had gone flying off into the ether. Now, though, in hindsight, it has my gut clenching.
Because it had almost looked like fear.
But … that can’t be right, can it? I mean, anger, sure. I’d expect that and deserve it. Anxiety? Okay. Also, understandable given the time we’ve spent apart. Even the deep-seated pain and sadness I’d glimpsed at the wedding would make sense because now I know how much she’s struggled in recent years.
