Page 137 of Average Joe

We could shake the shadows of our father’s dirty dealings. We could break the cycle. Alice’s suffering would not be for nothing.

Marley and I would never have to work again with Alice’s money, and we could own a killer house with a million-dollar view in a neighborhood too posh to worry about break-ins, where we could walk the dogs on pristine streets without looking over our shoulders. But that life was not for me, and I hoped, believed, that Marley felt the same.

Undoubtedly, our neighborhood in south Seattle was below average, but the homes, people, and streets were ours. We’d met, fought, fallen in love, were raised, raised a child, and had Alice on our unimpressive street.

I needed nothing more, except maybe to share my good fortune with those I loved and with others that needed a helping hand.

Yeah. Fuck you, Kaine curse. I was free. An average fucking Joe.

I got my woman, my dogs, and the best buddies a man could ask for.

“What’s that smile on your face?” my girl asked, staring up at me with adoration I’d forever cherish.

“Just thinking about how lucky I am is all.”

Marley leaned her head on my shoulder, lacing our fingers. “I was thinking, since you insisted on getting married, I could rent out my house. I don’t think I should sell. Too many memories. Besides, I’d like to pass it on to Dylan someday.”

“That’s a great idea.” I pressed my lips to her hair.

“So, where is this guy?”

We stood in front of my gym. Cadence Fight Club. The window stretched the entire length of the building, and their logo was a simple gold circle with CFC in the middle.

“He’ll be here soon.”

Shielding her eyes from the sun, she looked up. “Looks like an apartment building up above.”

A man emerged from the alleyway, wearing workout gear, looking like he stepped off a Men’s Health magazine cover.

“Cole, my man.” I stepped forward, embracing my friend and owner of the gym, then stepped back and made introductions. “This is the future Mrs. Kaine.”

“Pleasure.” Cole offered Marley his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, giving him a firm shake.

Cole led us inside the building to a private elevator, then up to the fourth floor.

“Can’t tell you how much your donation means to us.” He stepped into the hallway, which opened into a large reception area.

Cole Adams didn’t need our money. His family owned most of Seattle.

“What is this place?” Marley asked, spinning a slow circle, taking in the space.

Aside from the large desk, the entryway was unassuming, yet homey and comfortable. You wouldn’t know if the offices behind the walls were for accountants, lawyers, doctors, or a tech company.

I knew.

“It’s a safe haven,” Cole said, turning to face Marley. “For women like Alice. We offer the best security. Anonymity. Our women get free help—medical, legal, counseling. We provide homes, schooling, and childcare.”

Awed, Marley grabbed my waist, lifting that gorgeous face to mine. “This is our charity?”

“If you say yes.”

“Yes, of course. Why haven’t I heard of this place?”

“Discretion,” Cole answered. “The system often fails these women. We don’t.”

Marley brushed a finger over the hand-carved desk. “This is a massive undertaking. You fund this purely with donations?”

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