Page 4 of My Bad Boy Valentine

“Look what the mountain dragged in!” he called, coming around to greet me with a back-slapping hug. “Damn, prison must’ve had you pumping iron every day.”

“Had to do something with my time,” I replied, settling onto a barstool and noticing how a few nearby patrons slid their chairs away from me, just an inch or two. Old habits, old reputations.

Ryder appeared minutes later, looking at once familiar and strangely more content than the wild kid I remembered. Iheard Tessa’s name mentioned, saw the way his face lit up, and realized that maybe love could do that to a person—turn the hardest edge soft.

“Knox,” he said, extending a hand. “Good to see you on the outside.”

“Thanks to Pastor Vic,” I replied with a small shrug, accepting the beer Levi slid over.

Levi leaned on the bar, crossing his arms. “So, I heard you’re setting up shop in the old Peterson garage?”

I nodded, sipping my drink. “Figured it was time to go straight. Fixing bikes, paying taxes, trying not to ruffle too many feathers.”

Ryder grinned. “If you need any local contacts, Tessa and I can help spread the word. Folks pass through her bookshop all the time.”

“Appreciate that,” I said, genuinely touched by their acceptance. We fell into a comfortable conversation—Ryder talked about his business leading wilderness tours in the mountains, Levi mused about expanding the bar’s menu, and I offered bits and pieces about the shop. It felt good, normal. For a little while, I forgot about the stares, the whispers, the guilt that still hovered around me.

Later, as the crowd thinned and Ryder headed home, Levi leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. “Saw you at the school,” he said, voice low. “And Caroline Belle.”

My gut twisted at the memory of her gentle smile, the way she’d seemed genuinely invested in helping Linzie. “She’s Linzie’s English teacher,” I replied carefully. “Different from high school. More…confident.”

Raising an eyebrow, Levi smirked. “She used to watch you in study hall, you know. You were too busy being a hellraiser to notice, but man, she had it bad for you.”

I nearly choked on my beer. “That’s—impossible.” Whereas Caroline was known for her straight A’s and perfect attendance, I was the kid skipping class to smoke behind the gym.

“People change,” Levi said, wiping down the counter. “Look at me. Owning a bar, hosting fundraisers, keeping trouble to a minimum. Look at you—fresh out of prison and running a legit business. And Caroline? She’s come into her own, too.”

I turned his words over in my mind, recalling how she looked when I stopped by the school this morning. The way her sweater fit as though it had been made just for her, and her gentle, friendly smile. Something about her made me want to be a better man, if only to earn the right to see that smile again.

“Linzie’s lucky,” I found myself saying, wanting to change the subject but still talk about Caroline. “She notices things. Mentioned maybe I should look into some support for Linzie, academically speaking.”

Levi’s expression grew thoughtful. “Caroline’s always been the observant one,” he said. “She helped Tessa a lot with the bookstore’s reading program, too. If anyone can crack that shell of Linzie’s, it’s Caroline.”

The night ended quietly, with Levi giving me a pat on the back and telling me to keep at it. “You’re doing right by her, coming back,” he said. “Not everyone would step up like this.”

I left with a swirl of emotions in my chest—gratitude for my old friends not shutting me out, shame at the memory of all the damage I’d done before leaving, and a strange anticipation I couldn’t fully explain. Walking outside, I noticed the moonilluminating the empty lot across from the bar. I stood there for a moment, letting the crisp winter air fill my lungs, telling myself I was strong enough to face the ghosts of my past and build something better for Linzie’s sake.

The next day, I found myself at Hope Peak Middle School again, dropping Linzie off. But instead of taking off immediately, I lingered in the parking lot, leaning against my bike as if I were waiting for something—or someone. Sure enough, Caroline stepped out a few minutes later, carrying a stack of folders. She froze for a moment when she spotted me, then offered a tentative smile. My pulse kicked up, and it took me a second to remember to smile back.

“Hi,” she said when she reached me, balancing the folders against her hip.

I jerked my chin toward the school’s entrance. “Linzie said you wanted to talk?”

She nodded, gesturing for me to follow her inside. “Just about her progress in class. She’s turning in her assignments—sometimes. But I can tell she’s bright, maybe even ahead in certain areas. There’s just… something holding her back and I haven’t been able to put my finger on what it is.”

I swallowed, reminded of the times I’d struggled in these very hallways, constantly shutting people out. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “That something might be our childhood.”

Caroline’s eyes softened. “I’m sure. I just wanted to see if maybe we could figure out a plan—extra reading, projects, or if you’d be open to letting her stay after school for help.”

“Absolutely,” I said, the word leaving my mouth before I could overthink it. “I’ll do anything to keep her on track.”

“Great,” she replied, and her smile was so genuine I felt a tug somewhere deep in my chest. “I really believe everyone deserves a fair shot.”

Something about the way she said “everyone” made my pulse jump. For a split second, I wondered if she meant me, too—if, in her eyes, I wasn’t just the cautionary tale of Hope Peak but a man capable of something more.

We were standing too close in that quiet corridor, the muffled sounds of students echoing from nearby classrooms. The warmth in her gaze made me forget the reasons I had no business looking at her that way. My mind conjured memories of high school: me, angry at the world, and her, hidden behind a battered textbook. Now here we were, face to face, grown-ups in a place that once felt too small to contain us.

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” Caroline said, echoing the same sentiment she’d voiced before. The gentle conviction in her voice made it sound like a promise.

---