rewarding as coaching real athletes.”
“I hear you, buddy. Don’t put this off. I think you have a real shot at this.”
“I won’t.”
“Good. So. How did it go yesterday?”
Jake rubbed his forehead. He didn’t really want to go over that again, but Harley deserved an answer. He’d been through all of this with him. “Better than I expected.”
“That’s good. What’s she like? A younger version of her aunt?”
“No, she’s a complete opposite. She’s pretty and very nice.” There was slight pause before his friend responded.
“So no angry rants or accusations?”
“None. She took the dollar and I left.”
“Interesting. So you’re okay?”
“Of course.” A bit confused but relieved he hadn’t had to withstand a barrage of hateful speech.
“Then I’ll see you later. Don’t forget about that application.”
Harley’s news churned in Jake’s mind, gaining speed as he went through his warmup routine. He needed to get on top of this. He’d go see the athletic director soon and pick up the application in person, show them that he was serious and demonstrate his interest.
The August weather was intolerable today. High heat and high humidity, but a great day to run. Running always cleared his head and put everything into perspective. After his encounter with Mrs. Shepherd yesterday, he’d spent a restless night, and he needed to sort things out.
Jake finished his five miles around the neighborhood in record time. He slowed his pace as he turned onto Birch Street, heading home. He saw Mrs. Shepherd coming down her front walkway as he approached her house. Avoiding her was his best option. She wouldn’t be glad to see him, but there was no time to stop and turn around or cross over to the other side without calling attention to himself and appearing rude.
He slowed to a walk, waiting for her to look up. When she did, her blue eyes widened in surprise and then darkened with the speed of a pop-up summer storm.
“What are you doing here?”
He wondered if all her emotions were so easily displayed. “Running. I run every day.”
“Why here?” She set her jaw and planted her hands on her hips. “Are you stalking me?”
He didn’t dignify that with a response. He’d expected her to think the worst of him. Everyone always did. “I live here.” He pointed to his Victorian home across the street. “Right there.”
The look of horror on her face stung. He’d never considered how she might feel about having the man responsible for her cousin’s death so close. Her aunt had been a hermit. He’d lived in the neighborhood for months before she’d realized he was there. He’d only seen her once after that when he’d paid his penance. Not long after, she’d moved to a nursing home and passed a short time later.
“No. You can’t live here.” She took her hair in her hands and pulled it behind her ears. “Why would you come back to Hastings after what you did? Why would you move into a house so close to my aunt?”
He squared his shoulders. He should have anticipated this. He took a second to get control. “I moved back because I got a job here, and I live in that house because it’s the only home I’ve ever known.”
Her eyes widened again but this time from surprise. Like many people, she hadn’t expected him to have feelings or a sentimental streak. After all, he was only a foster kid. He didn’t count. A shaft of cold shot through his chest. Some things never changed. The stigma of being a foster child would stain him forever.
“Have a good day.” He nodded and then turned and jogged across the street.
If nothing else, the incident had dampened his curiosity about Mrs. Owens’s lovely niece. As far as she was concerned, he was a pariah. He’d secretly hoped Mrs. Shepherd would be more understanding than her aunt. Apparently not. So be it.
He had an application to fill out and maybe a campaign to launch. He’d show the powers that be that he was the perfect one to fill the coaching job. In the meantime he’d be wise to mind his own business. As for Annelle Shepherd, he’d have to put her out of his mind until next year. Just because she lived across the street didn’t mean they had to interact. He’d stick to his side of the street and she to hers. Life would go on as usual.
As his friend liked to point out, he could only control his own reactions, not those of others. No matter how much he wanted to. Just like he could never escape the fact he was a murderer. Not until he met his maker.
Discovering that Jake Langford lived across the street gnawed at Annie’s mind the rest of the morning. The stately Victorian house with its wide front lawn seemed an odd choice of residence for a rugged, athletic man like him. It was easier to imagine him in a contemporary ranch or a sturdy craftsman.
His words replayed in her mind. The only home I’ve ever known.
A swell of empathy and understanding rose inside. She knew that feeling all too well. As a foster kid, Langford must have lived with many different families in many different kinds of homes. At least all her moves had been with her mother. She’d never been alone. And she understood all too well the importance of having a real home.
She pivoted and hurried inside. None of that mattered. What was important was that Jake Langford lived in her neighborhood. Across the street, where she’d have to look at his house when she sat on the porch or drove down the street. He was a constant reminder of how her cousin had died. It was one thing to face the man once a year, but to encounter him on a daily basis was too much. How was she going to deal with this?
A throbbing pain formed at the base of her skull. She didn’t have time for a headache. The house needed at least a week more of purging all the old furniture and junk her aunt had accumulated, and her first faculty meeting was scheduled for tomorrow. She’d wanted the house in livable condition before school started since there’d be little time for DIY projects after that, but doing it alone was taking longer than she’d expected.
There was only one way to deal with Jake Langford. Ignore him. Keep her distance. It shouldn’t be too hard. She’d be working all day and too busy in the evening to notice him. But that didn’t mean she’d stop thinking about him. Her only option was to concentrate on her own life and let Jake do his own thing.
Her gaze traveled around the kitchen, from the oak cabinets, vinyl floors and outdated almond appliances. Besides, Jake wasn’t her problem. This house was. And it was time to get back to work.
“Boys.” She hurried up the stairs. “Let’s get started on Ryan’s room.”
Ryan popped his head out from the back bedroom he was sharing with his brother. “Really? Cool. I’m ready for my own space.”
Tyler came from the room more slowly. “I’ll get the trash bags.”
“Thank
