Page 80 of Redemption
Twenty minutes later, I’m pulling up to the Harrison household, and MJ is waiting for me outside. I nearly swallowmy tongue at the sight. It’s impossible not to think about kissing her when she looks like every dream I’ve ever had. She’s wearing cut-off jeans and a baggy t-shirt. Her auburn hair flows down her back, the red brighter in the sun. When she sees me pulling in, she waves her hand excitedly like I could miss her standing there. The woman doesn’t realize it, but she would be impossible to miss from space.
Pulling to a stop, I lean over and push open the passenger side door for her. I debated getting out and opening the door for her for all of two seconds before I realized that she wouldn’t wait for me—her impatience wouldn’t let her. So, I settled for the next best thing.
When the door is open, and she can hear me, I say, “If I’d known you were this excited to hang out with me, I wouldn’t have let you leave practice earlier.”
She climbs up in the truck, shoving her purse in the passenger seat and sliding over to the middle bench seat before punching me in the arm.
“Shut up and drive, old man.”
“You’ve really got to stop with the old man stuff, MJ. You’re killing my ego.” I throw her a wicked smile, and her laugh fills the air. The sound is whimsical, and I wonder how I’ve survived the last six years without hearing it.
“Somehow, Hayes, I think your ego will survive.”
She reaches forward, flipping on the radio. An old voice croons through the speakers, taking me back to the first time MJ sat in my truck, only that time she sat as far away from me as she could. Now she’s tucked in beside me, our thighs brushing against one another as she sings along with the song.
A different image flashes through my mind—this time, one of the future. One where life was different, Langston is still alive, and I’m married to the woman beside me. That’s the future I’d dreamed of having in the house I’m in.
“Where did you go?” MJ asks, slapping my leg and pulling me back to the present.
I shrug, “Just thinking.”
“Well, try not to do it so loudly. You’re giving me a headache.”
The dimple on her cheek dips in, and I can’t resist poking it with my finger. She swats my hand away.
“You’re a brat. Do you know that?”
Her smile grows more prominent. “Never claimed to be anything else.”
The furniture store is in the next town over, and it takes thirty minutes of driving time to get there. By the time we arrive, I’m on the edge of losing my mind from the amount of times MJ’s leg has brushed against mine. I had to grit my teeth and tell myself to breathe at least ten times so I didn’t pull the truck over and get a taste of her lips one more time.
We pull into a parking space, and MJ hops out on the other side, apparently not as affected by our closeness as I was. I take a minute to gain control before slinging my door open and joining her in the sunshine.
“Do you know what you’re looking for?” I ask, falling into step with her as she walks towards the store.
“Mostly just a bed to start with. If I find a good deal on a couch, I’ll take it, but it’s not necessary right now, especially because I’m not sure if they will deliver.”
“I see now. You only invited me for my truck.” I mean it as a joke, but MJ must think I’m serious because she places her hand on my arm, pulling me to a stop.
Once I’m facing her, she says, “No, Hayes. I invited you because I’ve missed being your friend.”
The moment stabs into the light mood that was between us, shredding it to pieces. It’s the second time she’s told me she missed me, and just like the first time, a flame of hope burns inmy chest. But as quick as it burns, I douse it, preventing it from turning into an all-out wildfire of hope. I can’t afford it.
If I’m going to manage to be just friends with this woman, I desperately need that joking mood back, so I wrap my arm around her head and pull her along with me, walking as I say, “Yeah, yeah. I’ve missed you too.”
She’s still giggling when we walk through the doors side by side.
But as the doors slide closed behind us, she stops, pulling me tighter to her side. Her muscles tense beneath my arm. I tilt my head to where she’s staring straight ahead, confused by the apprehension marring her brow.
A man stands with his back to us. I can’t tell much about him from where we are standing besides the fact that he’s tall and has dark hair, but MJ seems to know him—and their interaction must not have been pleasant based on the way she’s tugging on my waist, leading me in the opposite direction.
I let her pull me away, my body on edge. I don’t know how she knows the man, but if he did something to her—made her feel anything less than comfortable—I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk out of this store without ripping him limb for limb.
“Who is that?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm. If MJ notices the undercurrent of anger burning on her behalf, she won’t answer my question. She’s too independent.
But I’ve watched her take care of herself and everyone else her whole life. It’s past time someone took care of her—even if it’s just as a friend, putting men into their place so they treat her the way she deserves.
Her smile is bright—too bright—when she shakes her head. “Nothing. Just a guy I met when I came back to town. Mom says he’s one of the new firefighters.”
