Page 59 of Unexpected Hero

“So where are we going, James?”

Fucking hate that she’s calling me that name, but I guess it’s for the best since it’s my club alias. Perhaps in the back of my mind, when I spit that name out, I already knew what would happen.

That is... if she agrees and doesn’t freak out on me.

“There’s a nice park in Pass-a-Grille. I brought food for a picnic.”

“Pass a what now?”

“Oh that’s right. You’re not from here. Pass-a-Grille. It’s a quiet little beach area. Less tourists than the rest of Clearwater.”

“Fun.” Her shoulders bob a few times. “My first locals’ spot. I feel so special.”

No comment because she has no idea how special she truly is. At least to me and Big Al.

And after listening to her call with Stella this afternoon, I fully believe she has no idea he’s her father. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why she’d lie to her best friend about something like that. It leaves me accepting it as fact. I’ve found no evidence proving otherwise. Based on said call, she recently found out her parents are her grandparents. But other than that? She seems clueless.

Even still, I find myself curious to learn more about what sent her on this path.

“So, Lettie, the other day, we broached this topic. But I still have to wonder why you came to Clearwater out of all the other places on earth. What drove you here? And don’t say your car.”

Instead of looking at her, I keep my eyes trained on the road. But in my periphery, I catch her gentle head tilt, accompanied by her hands fidgeting in her lap.

“My home life has been,” she sighs and shakes her head, “chaotic recently.”

“How so?”

Her head sags, and her eyes cast to the floorboard. “Family drama. You don’t want to hear it.”

“Don’t be so sure. I’m very curious about you.”

I let the statement hang between us.

She tosses her hair over her shoulder while gazing out the window. Without warning, she shifts her frame to angle toward me. “I found out that the people who raised me were essentially pretending to be my parents.” Her voice is shaky when she adds, “My real parents died when I was a newborn, and my grandparents raised me as if I was their own.”

Although I already knew this information, hearing the sadness in her voice grates at the inside of my chest. She’s had it rough recently. And having it rough is sort of my specialty in life.

“Did you run away after your father died — err, grandfather? At the coffee shop, you said something along those lines.”

“Not exactly running away.” When I glance at her, she’s pressing her lips tightly together. “Well, I guess you might call it that. It left me feeling lost. A few other things happened this past year. I wanted to get away from all those memories. I don’t want to be reminded of all the bad shit every time I open my eyes.”

My stomach sours.

But she still didn’t tell me what I need to know.

“Why Clearwater? You said you were drawn to it. I’m not sure I believe in that mystical shit. No offense.”

“I’m not surprised you don’t.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You seem very logical. Straightforward. Analytical. And that doesn’t jive with my recently acquired woo woo vibe.”

“Woo woo vibe? Recently acquired?”

I’m starting to love listening to her ramblings. Even if she didn’t answer my question yet. Normally, that type of evasion would aggravate me. But with her... I’m willing to journey down whatever rabbit hole she tumbles into.

“I was raised in a strict, overzealous, religious home. When I was little, I didn’t know any better. I believed whatever hooey they threw at me.”

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