Page 77 of Finding Hope

Well, here goes.“I was visiting my dead girlfriend.”

“Well. FUCK!” She shoots up on the hood and sends her soda flying into the air.

On guard, Annie’s head pops and her teeth pull back so viciously, I worry I’m seconds away from losing my leg. We all know whose side Annie chooses.

“How long has she been… gone? How long were you together? How old was she? Oh my fuck! Jesus Christ, Jack. Are you okay?”

Never in a million years did I expect to smile while telling this story, but here I am, half sticky with red soda, and smiling at the girl I kind of have a crush on… while I tell her about my dead girlfriend.

“Um…” Chuckling, I watch her wide eyes. “Her name was Steph–”

“No. Wait!” Leaning forward, she throws her arms over my shoulders and pulls me in so tight, I almost weep like a damn child. This is the kind of hug only my family can give.This is a good fucking hug.“Are you okay?” Rubbing my back, her lips brush across my ear, but best of all, her hair curtains my face. “I should tell you upfront, I don’t know anyone who’s died. Legit. I’ve lost no one. I mean, my grandma died, but I didn’t really know her, so that doesn’t actually count, right? The most traumatic thing that ever happened in my life was when Mufasa died, so I’m sorry if I’m really bad at this.” Pulling away too soon, she catches me turning my face into my shoulder to wipe away an errant tear. “Shit, I’m sorry for interrupting you. Okay, keep going. Her name was Steph? That’s a beautiful name.”

Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I give her a shaky smile and glance away. “Yeah… Steph. And I’m okay, sorta. I’m better than I was, I guess. You saw me at my worst, so you can be the judge of that.”

Slapping a hand over her mouth, her eyes pop wide when she remembers. All that angry fucking. All that anger, full stop.

“So, yeah.” I sniff. “I’m doing… alright. Not perfect, but not bad, either.”

“How long ago?”

“Ah… Almost a year. It’ll be twelve months in a couple weeks.”

“Still so fresh.”

Nodding, I pick at a tiny fray in her shorts. “She was twenty-four years old, and we’d been together since high school. We were just babies. Sixteen and seventeen.”

“High school sweethearts…” she murmurs sadly. “How did she die?”

“Um…” The sounds of shattering glass breaks in my ears. The screeching tires. The roaring engine when, with my foot still on the pedal, the tires were squealing but gaining no traction, because we were already airborne. “A drunk driver hit us on the freeway.”

“No.” A single tear spills over and slides along her rosy cheek. “I know this accident.” I’m not surprised. This is a small town, and it was big news. “X was there?”

“X?”

She nods. “Alex, my brother the cop.”

Alex, the cop I didn’t know, held my hand – in comfort, in restraint – as they lifted a sheet over her white face. “Yeah, he was there.”

“Holy shit, you’re Jack Reilly, the fighter.”

I smile, though it’s not a full smile like before. “You didn’t know that yet?”

“No. I mean, I knew you were a fighter, but I didn’t know… I’d heard of the Kincaids. They’re big news around here, and I knew you were related to them, since I spent a super noisy dinner with ten of their offspring, but I guess I never… I didn’t connect the two. You’retheJack Reilly, like,” she pauses and counts fingers, “three-time world champion.”

Smiling like I shouldn’t in this moment, I twist the denim fray of her shorts around my finger and throw her an easy smirk. “Six-time champion, actually.”

Her eyes sparkle, half tears, half laughter. “You’re a cocky son of a bitch, Jack ‘The Jackhammer’Reilly.” Mocking my fight name like no one ever has before, she claps her hands together in prayer. “Please,sir, forgive me. I had no idea my hotdogs were purchased by royalty. Jesus, why didn’t Wendy come out and kiss your toes?”

“Shut up.” I knock my shoulder into hers. “Don’t mock my shit.”

“No, I’m not kidding!” Moving onto her knees, she kneels beside my legs and gets the toes of her Docs wet with soda. “I beg your forgiveness, Mr. Reilly. Please, m’lord, forgive my ignorance.”

“Stop.” Grabbing her, I push her back down to her ass beside me, and I shut up the tiny voice in my mind thatknowsshe’s acting like a fool to take the focus off my shitty story.

She might be one of those people. Like Kit, instead of dealing with a serious topic, we just laugh it off.

I can dig that. It’s better than crying. “So you’re really telling me you didn’t fuck me that first time because I wasTheJackhammer?”

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