Page 12 of Jessica's Hero
When I first met Nora during our PTSD support group, I was hesitant to even talk to her. She looked so confident, so capable, so strong—I couldn’t imagine us having anything in common. But once I got to know her, I discovered she wasn’t just this badass former Green Beret, but a regular woman with fears and insecurities, just like me.
For months, we’d just chat before or after group, but one day, she invited me for coffee. We chatted. Found that we had things in common, like our love of reading and fancy coffee and jogging. And after years of keeping to myself, of relying on my online games for companionship, I found a new friend.
Now we meet for coffee at least once a month, and sometimes Nora will ask me to come to trivia or one of the events in town. And even though I hate being in public any more than absolutely necessary, when Nora asks, I always say yes.
Still, the idea of a big Blade and Arrow party makes me uneasy, even though the B and A teammates are all transplants to Sleepy Hollow, so they don’t know my dark history or the reason why so many people in town dislike me.
Or maybe they do. Now that I’m thinking about it, itwouldmake sense for them to investigate me. I don’t know the details of all of Blade and Arrow’s cases, but I know a lot of it is confidential. And given that they have a literal computer genius on their team, it would be simple for them to look into my background.
It would be easy for anyone to look into it, really.
A heavy weight sinks to the bottom of my stomach. The few sips of cappuccino I just drank start to creep back up my throat.
How could I not have thought about it before? How could I be so clueless?
It was just so freeing, having a friend who knew nothing about my past. But in reality, she’s probably known all along.
“Jess?” Nora’s eyebrows pull together as she looks at me. “Is something wrong? If you don’t want to go to game night, that’s okay. I shouldn’t be pushing.”
“It’s not that.” Pausing, I glance around the cheerful diner, my gaze lingering on the giant mural of the Headless Horseman riding his horse while clutching a giant sub under his arm.
A lot of people who grew up in Sleepy Hollow turn their noses up at the Headless Horseman and his presence all around town. They say it’s cheesy. Boring. And some people even claim it’s too scary for kids.
But I grew up here, and I was never scared of him. I love the tradition of it, the murals and sculptures and the month-long Halloween celebration. I love how creative the businesses get, especially around the holidays, like when the owner of the Hop-less Horseman commissioned a life-sized horseman dressed up as Santa with a giant hop flower under his arm instead of his head.
It’s one of the reasons I don’t want to leave Sleepy Hollow. In my heart, I love this place. Not how some of the locals treat me, but other parts of it. The quaint park in the center of town with live music every weekend in the summer. Hiking in Rockefeller Park as soon as the weather gets nice. The independent businesses instead ofimpersonal chain stores. The way our little downtown looks after the first snow, the lamp posts wrapped with lights dusted in a pure and shimmering white.
“Okay.” Nora’s still watching me, concern etched into her forehead. “What is it, then?”
“Did you investigate me?” I blurt out. As her brows jump up in surprise, my cheeks go hot.
“Investigate you? What do you mean?”
Crap. I don’t know why I said it, but now I’m stuck. “When we started hanging out,” I explain. “Did Leo research my background?”
Nora frowns.
My stomach rolls over.
“Some,” she answers after a long pause. “But only because I was abducted. He had to look into everyone, you know. It wasn’t personal.”
The anxiety I’ve been battling for the last few months makes an eager appearance, squeezing my chest and making my heart race. “So… you know.”
“Know about what?” Nora pushes her mug to the side and leans across the table. Her eyes darken with concern. “Leo just wanted to check for a criminal record. Make sure you weren't connected to the abduction. But you weren’t. Obviously.”
“About everything that happened in high school. What I did.”
Understanding fills her gaze. “You mean the accident?”
Bile burns the back of my throat. “Yes.”
Nora’s expression turns solemn. “I know you were in an accident, Jess. That you were hurt. And it wasn’t your fault.”
“But there’s more to it,” I protest. “You must know. Everyone in town?—”
“I don’t care about everyone in town. I care about you.”
“Still. You must wonder…”
