Page 36 of The Sharpest Edges

There are people everywhere, spilling out onto the sidewalks from shops and clustering in groups at seating areas. Teenagers in packs, families with kids, and couples on dates. More than a few folks walking dogs, one of which tugged its owner to their table to steal a pat on the head.

On most days, the commotion would leave him anxious, but all he cares about tonight is watching the woman across from him. Ava’s slender fingers tap against her cup while she tells him a story about how Nick ate all the creme-filled donuts at work the other day, even the one she tucked away into the back of the fridge to hide from him.

“I should have stuck a label on it,” she says with a laugh, pausing to change the subject. “So…you get all settled in back home?’

“Ain’t much to settle really. Found a thick layer of dust on everything and the milk was growing fuzz but otherwise, yeah. Feels good to be home.” That’s the understatement of the year. It feels beyond good to be back. It’s euphoric. He’s turned into someone who’s so damn happy to do normal shit like order a pizza and watch TV.

“I bet it does.” She eyes him with a hint of mischief. “You smell different…good…like pine and man soap. Not that disinfectant they use back there.”

“Pffft. Man soap, huh? Like I cut down some trees and oiledup a bike?”

She hums out an agreement, all throaty and deep, her words holding less of a tease and more of a flirt. “Something like that. I like it.”

His brain disconnects for a long moment at the revelation that she noticed how he smells and she likes it. The car isn’t far, he could take her back there and make every naughty fantasy he’s had come to life and with the way she’s looking at him, with that hooded gaze and summer-flushed skin, he suspects she’d welcome that turn of events.

He dismisses that thought. It’s too soon. He’s allowing the electric current between them to prompt his wild imagination.

“You ah, you wanna walk a little?” They’ve almost finished their coffees, but the night is young and he’ll walk laps around main street if it means she’ll walk with him.

She agrees with an eager nod and they toss their cups in the trash before filing onto the crowded sidewalk. A man speeds by on his bike and Ava edges into Dean’s space, her shoulder brushing his.

“People are so damn rude,” he growls, switching their positions so she’s on the inside away from the street, and offering his arm for her to hold on to. The gentle hook of her forearm through the bend of his elbow feels like he won the lottery.

They pass a few shops that catch his attention. Something eclectic, the type of store to sell starbursts that hang from the ceiling and hand-crafted jewelry. An art gallery with weird paintings of farm animals in the window and a clothing boutique that sells preppy stuff like pink pants and checkered sweaters.

“Oooh, mint chocolate chip. Have you ever been here?” Shepoints to a sign outside a popcorn shop proudly displaying their daily flavors. Mint chocolate and cheddar jack cheese.

“Nah, never came downtown much. Ya want some? Could go for some of that cheese one myself.”

They emerge a few minutes later with two paper bags full of fresh popcorn, and he’s not quite sure how they escaped that place at all. The choices were a mile long once they got inside, everything from jalapeño and sriracha to cotton candy and fruit loops.

Ava’s arm curls around his bicep again as they make their way down the sidewalk, warm and reassuring. It’s only then that he realizes he hasn’t flinched away from her even once, and while not acting like a complete freak at human touch may be normal for most, it is not normal for him and he’s not most people. Contact is difficult. Always has been. It had only been their forced proximity and unusual conditions that desensitized him to her in prison.

They have done more than this already, though. They’ve hugged, they’ve kissed, but casually touching out in public without the threat of disaster looming over them is new and different and he’s playing it all by ear.

They make it three more blocks locked arm and arm before spotting a bench off to the side, tucked between a building and a hotel overlooking a man-made waterfall. They migrate toward it, sitting side by side with a view of the greenspace below. It’s getting dark, but there are kids playing at the water’s edge and people eating at little tables in the restaurant across the bridge.

“You go to that popcorn place a lot? Seemed like you’ve been there before.” He’s only looking for something to say, still unsure of how to lead a conversation when they don’thave injuries or prison drama to talk about.

She makes it easier than it otherwise would be. He knows that for sure. She is always an eager participant in whatever he brings up.

“Used to take Charlotte there on the weekends. After John would leave to play poker, we’d….” She trails off, almost startled that she responded the way she did, sadness overcoming her even as she tries to fight it off. “Anyway, a few times, yes. Haven’t been back in a while though.”

“John was your husband?”

She nods, her mood somber.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“It’s okay. The only bad ones are of him. He wasn’t good to me. Charlotte was all good memories, though. It’s been long enough now that I can think of her sometimes and smile, can picture her trying those jalapeno flavors and having a fit at how hot they are.”

He already figured her late husband wasn’t her favorite person when he was alive judging by her initial comments about him back in the infirmary, but he is curious now and wants to probe deeper, wants to know her in ways that may confirm how similar they are even if he hopes he’s wrong.

‘He wasn’t good to me.’can mean a lot of things. Dean decides against poking old wounds, not wanting to drop the mood even further. “How old was she?”

“Nine. Almost ten. How about you? I never asked if you have any kids. I feel like that’s something I should know by now, but it never came up.”

He wants to laugh at the idea of procreating. “Nah, no kids. Not that I don’t like ‘em, they’re fine, got no problem with kids, but it wasn’t in the cards I guess. No kid deserves theDawson genes.”

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