Page 5 of Fierce Hope
And yet … the other part of her, the one that had spent years living by survival instinct, whispered something far more dangerous.
What if this is about the past?
Twelve years was a long time. Long enough for most ghosts to fade. But not all of them.
She wasn’t aware of any client secrets in her new life. But in her past, she knew way too much about way too many dangerous people.
4
Hours later,a hectic workday behind her, Jade leaned against the table in the church’s community center, considering her newest tutoring client. DJ was fifteen, a handsome African American kid with deep, dark eyes and a killer smile. When he chose to use it. Like lots of boys his age, he was still slight, but his outsized hands and feet hinted at a huge growth spurt. His wiry frame and oversized hoodie made him look younger, but his eyes—sharp, assessing, wary—belonged to someone much older.
Her heart went out to the lonely boy. Being the new kid in a small town was no fun. Been there. Done that. Far too many times.
She flipped through his math workbook as he slouched in the chair across from her, his arms crossed, his face set in what could only be described asterminal boredom. A few other volunteer tutors worked with students around the large, well-lit room, but Jade barely noticed them. Her focus was on the teenager in front of her, who, despite his insistence otherwise, was undeniably sharp—just selectively motivated.
“I don’t see why I need to know any of this.” DJ sighed dramatically.
“What?” Jade blinked, realizing she’d been staring at the same equation for too long. She needed to get herself back into the moment. Pronto.
DJ gave her a look, unimpressed. “The math. Don’t see the point.”
Jade raised an eyebrow. “You plan on never using numbers for the rest of your life?”
“That’s the dream.”
She tapped her pencil against the table. “Well, until that ‘professional vibe curator’ job opens up, you’re stuck with algebra.”
That earned her a ghost of a smile, which he quickly smothered beneath his usual guarded expression.
“Come on, DJ,” she said, softening her tone. “You’re actually really good at this when you focus.”
He exhaled through his nose, gripping his pencil. “I just got other stuff on my mind.”
Jade hesitated. She wasn’t about to pry—the boy trusted her enough to show up to these tutoring sessions, but not enough to spill what was weighing him down. She could guess, though. His father. The same father she was trying very hard not to think about.
DJ frowned at her, suspicion flickering in his sharp eyes. “You okay? You seem … distracted.”
“No. I mean, yeah. I’m fine.” She waved a hand vaguely, hoping that settled it. “Come on, let’s get through this problem.”
DJ hesitated but didn’t push. He was guarded, careful with his questions. Too much like her, and that made something in her chest ache.
The door creaked open.
She knew who it was before she even looked up.
DJ’s dad, Deke.
The energy of the space changed the moment he entered, like the air itself took notice. But, of course, she eyed him, because how could she not?
The man was impossible to ignore.
At six-six, he towered over nearly everyone, broad-shouldered and built like he was carved from granite. His presence was quiet but absolute, the way trained warriors carried themselves. A man of deep faith and even deeper secrets, she thought. The kind of man who could unearth hers without even trying.
Not good.
Nor was the way her pulse picked up as his sharp gaze landed on her. She stiffened, suddenly hyperaware of herself. The old paranoia slithered back in, the one she thought she’d buried along with Jade Marlowe.
She hated that. Hated that whoever was taunting her had forced her back into this state. Most of all, she hated that the easiest way to cope with it was to slip back into an old habit—masking, pretending, playing a part.
