Page 13 of Justice & Liberty

One of the most beautiful women I’d ever known stood behind the counter. Chestnut brown hair in natural waves that fell more than halfway down her back. Soulful brown eyes. The only person I knew of that looked not just okay, but damn near elegant in nothing but leggings and a T-shirt.

And the way her face lit up when she saw me...well, that was pretty amazing too.

“Jaycie!” My childhood best friend, Sabrina Collins, literally hopped over the counter to throw herself across the room at me. She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me against her so tight that there was barely enough room to breathe.

It was hard to mind that. She was so sweet, so kind, and so...home.

Ironically, she was also one of the reasons I’d run so far away for college.

Hard to stay close by and watch your best friend get into one bad relationship after another, toxic guy after toxic guy, especially when you were more than halfway in love with her. Funny, how looking at her now, there was none of that childhood longing. Only a soft, gentle nostalgia.

“Hey Bree,” I said, laughing as she swung us around in a circle. “Good to see you too.”

“I was afraid I’d missed you entirely,” she said when she pulled back. “I’m so sorry about Maggie. They told me you were in town for the funeral, but I couldn’t get there that day. Granddad was—you know, he was being Granddad. And by the time I dropped by the house the day after, no one was home.”

I bit my lip, nodding. I did know her grandfather. He was the person she and her sister had been living with since her parents had died, and frankly, he was a jackass. I hadn’t been surprised by Ryan’s story about him calling an emergency town meeting over a fence decoration, because he’d always made things dramatic when we were kids too. Sabrina went on a date, and he accused her of “catting around” and said if she got pregnant he wouldn’t help.

I hadn’t gone out of my way to see her while I was in town for the funeral in part because it would have involved being around Ephraim Collins. I hadn’t even thought about it that much, to be honest. Sure, Sabrina had been my best friend, but that had been high school. It had been a lifetime ago.

More than that, all I’d been thinking about at the time had been Mom and funeral planning. “I was only here for a few days after she died. But...but I’m back now. Back in town for good. Probably.”

I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to qualify the statement, but in the moment, I did. After all, if I couldn’t find a job, or South Liberty was different from my somewhatidealized childhood memories, then eventually I’d have to leave.

It was hard to imagine now, selling Mom’s house and business, but everything was so up in the air. I had no idea where I would land.

Sabrina, clearly ignoring my qualifier, made a high, excited sound. “Oh my god, really? That’s so awesome. I’ve missed you so much.”

“Me too,” I agreed, smiling ruefully at her exuberance. “I would have come to see you before, but?—”

“Oh no,” she denied, shaking her head wildly. “You were here for Maggie. I would never expect you to worry about me in the middle of that. I’m just so glad you’re here at all.” For the first time, a little self-consciousness crept into her expression. “I’m sure you’re used to nicer stuff than Mom and Dad’s old coffee shop these days.”

As she always did when she spoke of her parents, she reached up to rub the tiny gold pendant on a chain around her neck. It was shaped like a coffee cup, a gift her father had given her mother when they had first opened The Unique Bean.

Long before they had died when we were thirteen. If anyone in town knew just what I was going through with losing Mom, it was her.

Dragging myself back to the conversation at hand, I shook my head. “I mean, national chains abound in LA. They’re okay, I guess? Nothing special like here.”

“Aww.” She linked elbows with me and walked us both up to the front counter, leaning over it. “Walter? Walter, come meet Jaycie.”

My stomach plummeted at that. I didn’t know a Walter, but...it wasn’t my imagination, okay? It wasn’t even leftover teenage jealousy. My best friend had the worst taste in men.

The very worst.

One in high school had hit her once. Another had pressured her to have sex when we were fifteen, and yet another had been cooking meth in a shed behind his parents’ house. Maybe it was that the men available in a tiny town were limited and less than ideal, and maybe it was that I didn’t think any man would ever be good enough for Sabrina, but the end result was the same.

It never ended well, for anyone.

Especially that first one, since I’d beaten the crap out of him right in front of everyone who attended our high school. The principal had been livid and called Mom in for a meeting, but when I’d explained to her why it had happened, she’d shrugged and told him he could suspend me if he wanted, and her response would be to bake me a cake and tell me to take the week off because she was so proud of me.

Okay, so maybe that one had ended well for me. But not Sabrina or the douchebag who’d put his hands on her.

His nose was never going to be straight again.

Still, I hadn’t even seen this one yet. I should try to give him the benefit of the doubt, right?

A man came out of the kitchen, rubbing his hands on a towel, and I had to give her credit, this one didn’t immediately scream “I’m a jackass.” He was sort of nondescript looking, average height and weight and looks—blond hair, blue eyes, and just...everything about him did scream “I’m a generic average guy.”

He might as well have been one of the pictures already in a frame when you bought it.

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