Page 14 of The Sharpest Edges

He’s stepped in about a hundred puddles since the last time he was here, so she finishes her sentence with a nod toward his foot that he extends for her as she unwraps the toe. Slender fingers reveal bruised but healing skin, re-wrapping it with enough care that he hardly feels it at all.

He knows that Jaxson is a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but the way she said those words makes him think she’s fully aware of why he’s in prison and his curiosity is likely splashed clear across his face. She probably can’t tell him though. They’ve done nothing but cross lines here since the moment he arrived and he’s not about to ask her to trample all over another one.

She, however, does it anyway.

“Murdered his wife. The way I’ve heard it, he went full-oncrazy for a while, and kept seeing dead people and I’m not talking ghosts either. Thought she was ‘dead’ and stabbed her in the head. It’s not exactly a secret around here, but you’re better off not letting on that you know.”

He quirks a brow at her, his shock at this information dissolving and giving way to something else. “Why’d you tell me?”

Ava sighs, finishing with his foot, the softness of her hand lingering for a moment against his ankle before she drops it away again, crossing both arms over her chest and leveling him with the sort of look he doesn’t feel worthy of. Like she’s legitimately worried about him. Like she thinks he doesn’t deserve any of this. Like she’d be sad if he got hurt again.

“I told you because I think you need to know who you’re dealing with. He may be over the top, almost comical or charming sometimes, but the real nut jobs usually are. It’s easy to assume he’s bluffing, but now you know how unhinged he really is. Be careful.”

“How do you know I didn’t murder my wife too?” He regrets that the minute it comes out because they’ve made so much progress already and here he is joking about murder.

She laughs, light and airy, stepping closer as if to prove a point. “No. I don’t think you did anything of the sort.”

She did that last time, moving in close when she showed him pictures of fluffy kittens, trying to lighten the mood and prove that she wasn’t afraid.

When she backs away again to grab his pills, the need to tell her why he’s here hits him like a truck. He’s gone over it again and again in his mind, how and when he might tell her. Much as he tries, he still can’t make the story sound any less pathetic than it actually is.

So he just goes for it. Takes a deep breath and rushes out the words she never asked for. “Got pulled over for speeding. Cop said he smelled alcohol on my breath, so while I was taking the sobriety test they searched the car. I guess they can do that if they have probable cause. I blew a zero point zero, hadn’t been drinking a damn thing, but the drug dog found a shit ton of pot in the trunk. All packaged up for resale.”

She frowns, surprised by his unexpected confession. “You’re a drug dealer?”

“Nah. I don’t touch the stuff. Well, maybe a joint here and there, but I don’t sell anything. My brother does, though. I usually check the damn car before I go anywhere. He’s got his own truck, but he’s used mine before without asking. Said his had a permanent weed smell etched into the fabric by now. Forgot to check, I was in a hurry. I paid for it.”

“That’s shit luck,” she replies, and it strikes him then that she believes him.

He’s tried like hell to only give her the facts and not come across like he’s making excuses, but she seems one hundred percent inclined to take him at his word. It’s far more than anyone else has done since he walked through these doors. “I knew what he does, always known. Shoulda been smarter about not driving anywhere without checking the car. He paid too. Got pulled over a week later with half a pound of crack stuffed in all the air vents.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “Maybe that’s a little bit of karma. Not enough, but something.”

Dean’s never believed in karma but he can’t deny the joy he felt when he found out Boone got busted too, sent here for three times as long because Dean was only on his first offense and Boone had two other convictions on his record.

“I’m really glad you didn’t murder anyone.” She smiles.

He snorts at the tease. It’s inappropriate considering where they are and the fact that he could have murdered someone for all she knew, but they’re getting comfortable being inappropriate. “Me too. My brother’s first in line when I see him again, though.”

He’s only being sarcastic, of course. Boone may not have a bullet waiting for him, but he does have a healthy beat down if Dean has anything to say about it.

“Just don’t get caught. I’d hate to see you in here again when I could see you on the outside instead.”

He stops breathing for a heartbeat when those words leave her mouth. Could she want to see him on the outside? Is he hallucinating from near starvation?

Her mouth falls open for a moment like she’s about to explain it away, but nothing comes out and she gives up, closing it again with a frown, her cheeks tinting pink.

She’s probably joking. Teasing. Making light of the situation.

That’s all there is to it because there’s no way she wants to see him on the outside. He’s made it to forty-one years old without having much luck with women, and a stretch in prison won’t change that. The possibility that she may have even considered it still knocks him for a loop. It’s less about what she said and more about how she looked after she said it. Flustered, surprised, and slightly embarrassed.

Nick’s return is a welcome reprieve. Dean doesn’t know what he’d have said in return if given the chance. Instead, he’s whisked away again, medicated and fed and confused as fuck. Back to his cell where he can ponder what any of this means for the next two days.

7

Chapter 7

Focusing on anything but Dean is proving far more difficult than Ava anticipated.

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