Page 9 of Dear John

“I’m afraid that’s not a possibility. If you hang up, I’m duty-bound to come check on you. What if this is all a ruse? What if you’re actually sending me a distress signal right now? That’s something I would know if you actually picked a phrase, by the way.”

“We’re using the banana phrase. That’s it. End of discussion. Now, I’m going to hang up, and you’re not going to come over here to make sure I’m alright. You’ve done your duty. Now let me get on with my morning.”

“Alright, but if I intercept a 9-1-1 call in three minutes from your house, you’re going to be in a world of hurt with Kavanaugh.”

I bit my tongue, knowing I was already in a world of hurt. When he found out I gave Dash such a hard time about this, I’d never hear the end of how he’s only trying to protect me, and he can’t do that if I don’t cooperate.

With that conversation over, I put a smile on my face and practically skipped into the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee. The false cheer was almost too much to fake. “Morning!”

Riley grimaced as she caught sight of my face, but it was Bowie who really took the cake.

“You look like shit this morning,” he grumbled.

Riley jabbed him with her elbow, hissing at him to shut up.

“What? She does.” Then he turned to me. “And I mean that in the nicest way possible.”

“I just had trouble falling asleep. Too much caffeine in the afternoon yesterday.”

Riley smiled, but she knew I was lying. We’d both woken each other up with our screams from our nightmares. I wasn’t fooling anyone, but it made me feel better to think I was.

“I think I’ll sit on the front porch. It’s a nice morning.”

With all the bravado of someone who hadn’t had her life turned upside down, I walked out, letting the screen door slam behind me. I nearly jumped out of my skin from the noise, but somehow didn’t spill my coffee.

The morning was slightly chilly as fall began creeping into the air. I wanted desperately to get a blanket and drape it overmy legs, but the cold air helped to calm me down after my restless night.

That and I could run faster if my legs weren’t covered in fabric.

I took a seat and forced myself to sit there sipping my coffee. My heart hammered in my chest as my eyes darted up and down the road. It was stupid to think anyone would try to kill me again. Shawn wasn’t even able to move.

That doesn’t mean he can’t hire someone to do the job for him.

I growled at my inner thoughts. That was not helpful when I was trying to look past what happened and move on with my life. And there were still lingering doubts that Shawn had anything to do with the drive-by shooting. It was just so odd that Shawn would plant a bomb in my fridge to blow me up, but then drive past the house with me in plain sight, fire at me multiple times, and not hit me once.

And now I was shaking again, terrified that someone else was trying to kill me. I really needed to get a handle on my emotions.

The next-door neighbor’s vintage car rumbled to life, scaring the shit out of me. I practically jumped out of my skin, barely holding back a scream. I bit my lip, my nostrils flaring as my body went into overload. My neighbor waved his hand in greeting, but I saw how his eyes lingered on the front of my house. It was repaired now, but everyone in the neighborhood knew what happened.

Everyone was on edge, more cautious as they went outside, wondering if the attack was only about me or if it was gang activity and they all needed to be afraid. I hadn’t bothered to answer anyone’s questions. Partly because I didn’t know the answer with absolute certainty, but also because I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it yet.

Movement caught my attention and I swung my gaze to the walk leading up to my porch. IKE was there, casually walking toward me with a cigarette dangling between his fingers. I hadn’t seen him since that night—the night he saved my life. I hadn’t had a chance to thank him. I’d been in shock or something, unable to think of anything besides Riley and the fact that I was still alive.

And now he was here, in his usual suit and tie, slicked hair, and fancy shoes—his signature cigarette at his lips as he inhaled and let the smoke trickle from between his lips in a dangerous curl of smoke that made me think of the devil. Yet, IKE’s threatening stance didn’t scare me. Not in the way he intended. I hadn’t spent much time with him, but I knew him well enough to know that he would never hurt me.

He put out his cigarette and walked up the steps, his fancy shoes completely out of place on my front porch. He didn’t ask permission before he sat down on the swing beside me, resting his arm across the back of it, his fingers brushing against my neck.

“Nice morning.”

“Yes,” I said cheerily. Fake it til you make it. That was my new motto.

His lips twisted in a grin as he stared out at the street. “Right.”

Confused, I turned to face him. “What do you mean?”

But instead of answering, he kept talking as if we were already having a conversation. “How’s work?”

“Just great. Things are great.”

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