Page 5 of Her Fearless Ronin

“I have no intention of getting involved with any of them, but I don’t need your permissionor approval for my actions,” I asserted, raising my chin defiantly.

He raised his hands in surrender. “Look,” he began, his voice softer now, “I’m sorry for coming across as controlling. I just—” He sighed and shook his head. “You’re right. It was not my place.”

His sincerity was obvious in his eyes, and I felt a flicker of understanding. Perhaps his overprotectiveness was born from his own experiences with Anna and the scars they had left.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, too. I’m just worried and tired.”

He nodded. “It’s fine. I understand that worrying for the people you love can take a toll on you.” He swiftly turned and retrieved his leather jacket, the gesture signaling his readiness to act. “Come on, let’s go to your house. I want to have a look at your brother’s room,” he declared, his tone determined.

I hesitated for a moment, knowing that I had already scoured every inch of Leo’s room, finding no substantial leads. “There’s nothing to find in there. I’ve looked everywhere.”

A knowing smile curved his lips, and his gaze locked with mine. “Trust me, Hope. You haven’t searched the way I do,” he assured me, his confidence unwavering. There was an air of mystery surrounding Jiro, a sense that he possessed knowledge and skills beyond my comprehension. In that moment, I couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope reignite within me.

As we stepped out of the coffee shop, a gust of windbrushed against my skin, making me shiver despite the thinness of my jacket.

He threw me a concerned look as if he hadn’t missed my shiver. I doubted he missed much. “Where’s your car?”

I fumbled with my words, feeling a hint of embarrassment creeping up within me. “I… I don’t have one,” I admitted, my voice softening. “I rely on the bus for transportation.”

His eyebrows arched in mild astonishment, his expression silently questioning my lack of a vehicle. I shifted uncomfortably, a mix of self-consciousness and frustration brewing within me. Why was I letting something beyond my control make me feel inadequate?

“Should I be ashamed of that or something?” I asked, a touch of defensiveness slipping into my tone.

He immediately shook his head, his denial swift and genuine. “No! Of course not,” he reassured me, his voice carrying sincerity. “I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just I remember you going on and on about one day being sixteen, buying your own car, and driving down the coast to San Diego,” he reminded me, a flicker of nostalgia in his eyes.

A surge of warmth spread through my chest as I processed his words. “You remember that?” I asked, my voice filled with awe.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he nodded. “Yeah, I remember,” he replied, his voice charged with fondness and wistfulness. “You were so passionate about it, and I admired that. Life has a way of changing our plans, though.”

If only he knew how right he was. Nothing from that little girl had remained after this decade, no matter howhard I tried to hold on to it.

He pointed toward a gray-and-black bike parked near the entrance of the cemetery. “I’ve got a spare helmet.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “You have a bike?”

A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he looked at me, one eyebrow arched. “Is Hope Myers scared?” he teased.

I straightened my posture, determined not to let any fear show. “No, of course not,” I replied, my voice laced with determination.

“Good, let’s go,” he said, confidently striding across the street. With each of his long strides, I scrambled to keep up, my feet carrying me as quickly as they could.

As I caught up with him, my heart pounding with both excitement and trepidation, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. The prospect of riding on the back of his bike, the wind whipping against my face, and my body pressed against his was both exhilarating and nerve-racking. But I knew I had to push past any hesitations. Leo’s safety and finding the truth were at stake.

Jiro extended the helmet to me, and I hesitated for a moment before encircling it with my arms. Taking a deep breath, I knew it was time to reveal the painful truth about how our lives had taken a turn for the worse.

“I… ummm… We’re not living in the house,” I finally admitted, my voice wavering slightly. Avoiding eye contact, I fidgeted on my feet as if searching for something on the street to distract myself. “We sold it a few years back.” The painful truth lingered in my mind—I knew deep down that we had lost it to the bank. “We’re now renting a place onRendall Close.”

“Hope, look at me, please,” Jiro asked, his voice gentle yet insistent.

Reluctantly, I turned my gaze toward him, hoping that my face didn’t betray the depths of my struggles.

“What happened?” he asked, his eyes shining with concern. I didn’t want him to pity me. I could accept a lot but not pity.

I shrugged, attempting to brush off the weight of the question, shielding myself from the vulnerability that threatened to consume me. “It was too big,” I replied, my words lacking conviction.

The furrow in Jiro’s brow deepened, his doubt evident. I silently thanked whatever forces may be that he didn’t press for further details. The truth was too much to reveal now in the middle of the street after just seeing him again after more than a decade.

Without another word, Jiro started his bike, the engine revving to life with a low growl. He reached for his phone, a determined expression on his face. “What’s the address?” he asked, his voice resolute.

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