Page 62 of Jackson's Redemption
So me sidestepping Angel’s question wasn’t about sour grapes. I truly was happy for him and Shelby. Happy for the routine they had established together. The beginnings of a solid relationship that was more than just dating and fucking. They had the real stuff. The stuff that banded people together for the long haul. In good times and in bad. Hell, I’d never seen Angel so over the moon happy and Shelby, for all her faults, felt like she was one of us. Like she fit.
Maybe it was because of her faults that she did fit. No one was perfect in Hope’s Point.
I leaned back in my seat as we lifted off the runway. I tried to imagine Kate fitting in up here. Hanging out at Bud’s, drinking beer, playing pool. Shooting the shit. Coming to grips with Zeke and his baby carrier and Eve’s desire to fight someone twice her size. Something we all avoided because we had a sneaking suspicion she would win. Shelby would talk Kate’s ear off. That was for sure.
And Angel would charm the shit out of her because that’s what he did.
I would look gruff and rude in comparison.
Except Kate didn’t mind gruff and rude when I was dick-high inside her. Then, she liked me just fine.
“We’re up,” Doogie announced into my ear phones, as if I couldn’t see we were nearly a mile high in the air already. “Relax. Should be landing in Nome a little after three.”
I would have a few hours to wait. A few hours to anticipate her arrival.
I could have asked her to leave a spare key on the porch. Or just leave the door unlocked. It was Nome, not New York. I could have cooked something for her. Grilled something. Hot dogs, her favorite.
But that felt too personal. I needed to remind myself this was just about fucking, or I could risk everything. I’d put myself out there once. Kate knew where I stood. I was no longer in the business of convincing her of anything.
All of this was her choice. Her decision about what I would mean to her and who she would let me be in her life.
Me? I was just along for the ride.
As long as it lasted.
15
Kate
He was waiting for me on the porch steps. His truck, a rental I guessed, was parked along the street out front, leaving the carport free for me. My heart lurched in my chest and I put my hand over it to try to remain calm.
I’d done what he’d asked and sent him my two-week schedule. There had been no response. No message he’d received it. There had been nothing from him at all.
His note had said he would be back in two weeks, but there had been nothing during those two weeks to assure me that he was coming. To suggest he was looking forward to it.
Yet here was, two weeks to the day, sitting on my porch like I should be expecting him. A blank expression behind his scruffy beard.
I really didn’t know how to feel about that.
I got out of my unit, pulled my bag out then closed the door behind me. Technically, I was only supposed to use the county-assigned vehicle while I was on shift, but the Chief had given me a break when I told him I needed some time to sell my ride in Arizona before I could buy something practical up here. I drove a sensible Nissan that would never make it in Alaska. As long as I paid for the gas when the unit was on my time, he was okay with it.
When I’d gotten off shift, I’d deliberately not gone home. Afraid to find him here? Afraid to find him not here? I didn’t know.
Instead, I headed to this little, out-of-the-way place I had heard about from my partner, Chuck.
Her name was Mrs. Aponi. She was widow who supplemented her Social Security check by making homemade dishes and casseroles for people around these parts who didn’t want to cook.
Mostly it was widowers and dedicated bachelors.
I, however, also didn’t want to cook.
This week it was sausages and peppers with ricotta cheese in garlic, red sauce with lots of pasta. Enough to live off for a week.
If I wasn’t sharing.
I had the bag in my hand as I made my way toward the porch.
“You’re late,” he flatly. “And you lock your door.”
