"Maybe. This is the third call in two weeks. What condition will he be in the next time we get a call?"
"Why do you care so much about this guy?" he challenged. "Mr. Cobb wasn't very nice."
"He's a veteran. Didn't you see the photos on the table?"
"I didn't, but okay," Eric said with a shrug. "Maybe he can get help from the VA then."
"He's probably too proud to ask." Walter reminded her of her father, another veteran too stubborn to admit he ever needed help. But she'd never been able to change his mind, either. Eric was right. She was being too soft. She'd done her job. That was it.
"What are you doing after shift?" Eric asked, interrupting her thoughts.
"Going to bed," she replied, sensing where his question was leading.
"At nine o'clock on a Friday night? I'm hitting up Manion's. Have you been to that new club yet? They have great music. Come with me, and I'll buy you a drink."
"Thanks, but I'm tired and hot. If anything, I'm going to jump in the pool at my apartment building and then get into bed."
"That apartment building you live in—Ocean Shores, right? I heard everyone who lives there is single and good-looking."
"We have older people living there, too. It's like every other building."
"That's not what my friend said. He went on a date with someone named Skye, and he said he saw nothing but bikini babes by the pool. My lease is up in September. I was thinking about checking your building out."
"There aren't any vacancies right now," she lied.
"Are you sure? Maybe I should talk to the manager."
"Josie will tell you the same thing. I can let you know if things change." She was not at all interested in having Eric as one of her neighbors. She'd never have any peace.
"I don't know if I believe you, Mercer. What's your deal, anyway?"
"I don't have a deal."
"Well, you're not very friendly. You don't seem to have a boyfriend, but I haven't seen you on any of the dating apps."
"I don't do them anymore. Never got good results," she said shortly.
"But you are single."
"Yes," she muttered, not wanting to create more interest by avoiding the question. "And I'm fine with that."
"You should still come out for a drink tonight. Have some fun. Meet some new people."
"Another time. It's too hot." She pulled into the station with relief. "All I want right now is air-conditioning."
Jax Ridley stood outside Manion's a little after nine, the live music drifting through the open door, giving him mixed emotions. It was the first time in months he felt the urge to go inside, but giving in to it would take him down a road he didn't need to travel. Instead, he headed down the street to his car. He'd parked by the pizza parlor, where he'd grabbed a couple of slices before taking a walk in the cool evening air, a pleasant respite from the heat of the day.
He'd needed to get away from his stuffy apartment at Ocean Shores where the air- conditioning barely worked and the hot weather had brought the tenants out to the pool as soon as they got off work. When he'd left, there had been an impromptu barbecue going on, which seemed to occur at least three times a week.
He'd managed to avoid the social events in the two months he'd been living in the building, but as time went on, he knew it would become more difficult to do that. When his former agent had hooked him up with the manager of the building, he'd been looking to escape, and he'd thought a beachside apartment in Oceanside was just the ticket. But he hadn't realized the apartment building would be so community-oriented, which was not the ideal environment for someone who wanted to stay out of sight.
Not that anyone had appeared to recognize him so far. Sometimes, he didn't know whether he should be offended by that or grateful. It reminded him that his fame had never been as bright as his former partner's, and maybe he should be thankful for that, too.
As he got into his car, his phone buzzed with a series of texts. He glanced down at the screen, catching glimpses of incoming messages from his former agent, Clay Henning. Seeing Wren's name in those texts made him immediately set the phone down. He didn't want to talk to Clay about Wren, about his former life, or anything.
He started the engine and pulled out of his spot, his phone buzzing on the console several more times. As he stopped at a light, he glanced at it again, seeing new texts from Wren's manager and her publicist.
Swearing under his breath, he turned off his phone and started across the intersection. Despite his resolve not to get involved in whatever discussion they were having, his thoughts were taking him back in time to a life that had had so many ups and downs, so many low points and high points, so much drama that he probably should have expected it to combust long before it had. But that was the past. He was starting over. He had left all that behind him.
