Page 135 of Unexpected Hero

I’m left staring at the door with my sad puppy dog eyes, longing for the moment he breezes in, giving me a chance to jump on his chest and lick his face.

Sadly, this dog doesn’t have a home. Guess that makes me a pound puppy. Cue up the Sarah McLachlan.

Wow. I really went all in with the dog metaphor.

But that’s me. A lovesick puppy dog.

Well, crushsick and potentially lustsick, assuming those are things.

Also regretsick. I need to apologize to James.

Lies or not, he didn’t deserve what I said or how despicably I treated him.

I’ve typed out no less than ten text apologies but couldn’t bring myself to hit send.

Papa would be so disappointed in me for focusing on the negative like this. He taught me better. Even when he was going through chemo for the second time and felt like death warmed over, he found things to be thankful for. Bright spots in the gloomy clouds, as he called them.

But this damn depression stew tugs me deeper, sticking to my ribs and weighing me down.

My pen taps rhythmically on the front desk as I seek out the spots where the sun shines through my clouds. I hum along to the muted music pulsing from the main room, letting my mind wander.

Good things. Good things. Let’s see.

I am enjoying the job so far. It’s fun and pays great, considering I barely have any responsibilities. They gave me a starting bonus, so I haven’t had to ration my meager food stash.

With a bouncer nearby and caring staff checking in with me, I feel exceptionally safe; James was right about that. All the members and staff are respectful and pleasant as peach pie.

Freya and I are becoming fast friends. She visits the lobby several times each night to ensure I’ve got everything I need. My training is officially over, so she’s moved on to other tasks in the back of the house — not going to ask what those are. But whatever they are, she’s thrilled about them.

Good for her, I think to myself with almost no sarcasm.

Speaking of the devil, Freya pops into the lobby with one of those satisfied smiles plastered across her entire face. “Hey, gorgeous.”

I offer a partial wave at chest height, which I immediately regret because it leaves me looking like a total dork-face loser.

She hops onto the corner of the desk, putting her back to the front door and attention squarely on me. “How you doing, kid?”

Swiveling my chair toward her, I take in the gleam in her eyes and the rosy hue of her cheeks. A tiny sheen of perspiration glistens over her upper lip and her forehead.

“I’m good. How are you? You look radiant and suspiciously satisfied.”

I’ll pretend I know what that looks like, bringing my mantra to life — fake it ‘til you make it.

Except I do have a glimmer of experience to draw on since I was satisfied for a few blissful moments the other night before I ruined it. Ruined everything.

But I digress.

Freya winks and giggles demurely, her chin lowering to her chest. “Jesse owed me a favor. And let’s just say I collected it tonight.”

And now she’s sitting on my desk. In a skirt. Fantastic and sanitary. I love Freya and all, but eww.

Mental note: locate disinfectant wipes as soon as this conversation is over.

Ignoring my inner prude, I play along. “Oo la la. Sounds fun.”

She bites her lip, eyes rolling back. “It was. Extremely.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”I didn’t mean to, but a touch of petulance slipped into my tone.

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