Page 68 of Finding His Redemption

“Neither do you.”

Her eyes met his, steady and sure. “I’m starting to, and I like what I’m seeing.”

How could she be so certain? So confident in her assessment of him when he didn’t even trust himself?

“What about you?” she asked, changing the subject. “Any big dreams?”

The question caught him off guard. Dreams? He’d stopped allowing himself to dream years ago. Dreams were dangerous. They made you hope for things you couldn’t have, for a future that wasn’t yours to claim.

“I don’t know,” he admitted finally. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“Well, maybe you should. You’re not in prison anymore, Jax.” She reached across the counter and her fingers brushed his jaw, just once, light as a whisper. “You’re allowed to want more.”

chapter

nineteen

Before Jax could respond,the back door swung open and two small boys tumbled out, a whirlwind of energy and laughter. Oliver spotted him immediately, his face lighting up with recognition.

“Jax! You came back!” He raced across the bakery, nearly colliding with a table in his excitement. The other boy—Tate, presumably—hung back, watching with dark, soulful eyes.

“Hey, kid,” Jax said, surprised by the warmth that spread through his chest at Oliver’s obvious delight.

“We’re coloring dinosaurs! Wanna see? I did a T-Rex with really big teeth, and Tate did a?—”

“Oliver,” Nessie interrupted gently. “Take a breath. Jax just got here.”

“Sorry.” The boy bounced on his toes, barely containing his excitement. “But you gotta see our pictures. They’re awesome. Right, Tate?”

The other boy nodded shyly. He was smaller than Oliver, with light brown skin, a shock of tight red curls, and reddish-brown freckles spread thickly across his cheeks and nose. His expression was curious, but cautious.

“Show me,” Jax said, and was rewarded with a grin from Oliver so bright it could have powered the whole town.

Oliver darted back to retrieve their masterpieces, chattering to Tate the whole way. Nessie watched him go, a soft smile on her lips.

“Hurricane Oliver,” she said fondly. “Always at full speed.” She glanced toward the door as the bell jangled, and her smile faded. “Oh great,” she muttered under her breath.

Jax followed her gaze. The first man in was Dewey Stafford, the mail carrier whose truck he’d seen making deliveries at the ranch. Beside him was an older man in a crisp button-down shirt and khakis, with silver at his temples and a Bible tucked under one arm.

“Pastor Glenn,” Nessie said. “Dewey. What can I get you?”

“Just coffee, Vanessa,” the pastor said. “And perhaps a word with your... guest.”

Jax stiffened. He’d heard about Pastor Glenn O’Brien from the men at the ranch. The man ran the First Light Fellowship on the outskirts of town and made no secret of his disdain for Walker Nash and the convicts he took in.

“Pastor,” Jax acknowledged with a curt nod.

O’Brien pulled out the chair beside him and sat down, setting his Bible on the counter between them. Dewey hovered nearby, his eyes darting between them with undisguised interest.

“Mr. Thorne,” O’Brien said, folding his hands atop his Bible. “Did you find Jesus in prison?”

Jax’s jaw tightened. “Wasn’t aware he was lost.”

Nessie snorted, then quickly covered it with a cough when O’Brien shot her a sharp look. Someone called her name from across the room.

Jax sent her a pleading look.Don’t you dare abandon me.

“Sorry,” she mouthed and picked up the coffee pot, hurrying away to offer refills.

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