Ivy: I’ll be there! What are y’all dressing up as?
I smiled. Maybe that was exactly what I needed. A party to get my mind off the rest of my not-so-stable life. Maybe I’d meet a cute guy—one I actually got the name of. I shook my head at the likelihood of that. Me finding anyone I didn’t spend the entirety of the night comparing to my anonymous man was unlikely.
Me: I’ll be there! I already have a Poison Ivy costume. I’ve been dying for a chance to wear the full outfit.
Ivy: Oh! Maybe I’ll be a superhero too…no idea what though. Is anyone blond?
Me: Supergirl is blond. I’ll send you some links.
Aspen: I’m picking a villain. Feels fitting and Rowan would die.
Aspen: Maybe I’ll tell everyone to do superheroes. That would be fun! Sending out the message now.
Me: I’m down!
I sent Ivy some costume ideas and then locked my phone to finish getting ready for bed. At least if nothing else, I’d have a chance to show off the full costume now.
The following morning,I was going through my normal daily routine. I’d already gone through the first rush of the morning—the early risers on their way to the city for work, and then the daily nine a.m. commuters. So when the chime above the door rang a little after ten, I didn’t even look up when I yelled welcome from back by the oven. I was pulling out a batch of banana nut muffins, so it didn’t feel all that serious to rush out for one customer.
Couldn’t risk burnt muffins—they could wait.
Setting the muffins on the cooling rack, I walked out and looked over the counter, quickly realizing how wrong I was. I should’ve walked out.
Something about this man set me on edge—not in a negative connotation, but just jumpy. Of course he was handsome, but the way he carried himself with an air of confidence that he didn’t require words to back up was unnerving. He was dressed simply in a white t-shirt that wrapped around his toned arms way better than was necessary, blue jeans, and a pair of Nikes. His worn-in baseball cap was on backwards, his dark hair peeking out beneath the rim.
Fuck, this man was hot.
Deciding to just dive right in and leave the awkwardness in the back by the cooling muffins, I plastered a smile across my face—one I’d perfected years ago thanks to my mother.
“Mr. Carragan. Do you like banana nut muffins? Just pulled some out of the oven.”
He stared at me from across the counter for a brief moment before nodding. “I do actually. After that cinnamon roll last time though, I fear you could talk me into almost anything, Ms. Brady.”
I cleared my throat and turned to grab him two muffins and a coffee before he could see the blush creeping up my cheeks. The last thing I needed was for him to think Ilikedhim in any sort of way because I sure as fuck did not. He had an ego the size of the state of Colorado. After I’d met him the first time, I dove into his social media accounts, tagged photos, and even his website. It said plenty.
Basically, he loved women and looked really fucking hot in a suit.
“Glad to hear it. I’ll grab you a few.”
“Uh, thanks. I—” He stopped, and I peeked over my shoulder to see him rub the back of his neck while he stared at the floor. The man was clearly a ball of nerves, and that didn’t serve my anxiety well at all.
I walked back to the counter and bagged his muffins before setting them on the counter in front of him. “Spit it out, Carragan. I am at work, and small talk isn’t my strongest point.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I just don’t really know how to dive into this whole thing, I guess.”
“What whole thing?” I snapped, probably quicker than I needed to, based on the clear nerves he was giving off.
“Fuck me,” he muttered beneath his breath. “Okay listen, I’ve been looking into your case, as you know, like you’d asked me to. Trying to find any leads on who may have stolen your identity and destroyed your credit, all the bullshit you’ve been dealing with.” His voice trailed off as hestared at me. “You’re not a Brady, are you? I mean, you are, but not originally, as in at birth and all that.”
My heart sank, and my palms felt somewhat damp all of a sudden. “Why would you be digging intomypast, Carragan? In what world would you have that right?” I wasn’t even somewhat prepared for this conversation. I had just been lusting after this man not three minutes ago, and he walked in knowing all of the things I tried too hard to bury and justhopedthis small town would forget about.
Which truly, given the circumstances, was insane of me. I knew this, yet it didn’t keep me from wanting exactly that. Maybe my mom and I weren’t that different at all. She truly believed that moving twenty miles out of this town would change her past—erase it, and I believed that my last name reading something other than ‘Dunagan’ on my license would allow me to outrun the thoughts and feelings that came from the paternal side of my DNA. I was a certified fool.
“Ember, I understand that this sounds bad, but when it comes to cases like this, sometimes it truly is someone close to the victim. Fuck that sounds like you’ve been murdered,” he muttered the last bit and ran his hands over his face, letting out a huff. “This isn’t going over how I wanted at all. I swear I’m good at my job. People pay me good money for what I can do. Just…please just trust me for a moment, okay? Or don’t trust me and just hear me out.” He sounded as exhausted as I felt right this moment.
I didn’t respond though, I just stared, because what was I supposed to say? Sure, go on. I know my last name. I did pay to have it changed after all. Proceed to air my laundry for anyone else to hear. It wasn’t as if we even had customers right now, so we might as well get this done before someonedid walk in. So I let out a reluctant nod, wordlessly telling him to proceed.
“I was able to trace a few of the delinquent loans, and they—um, traced back to your father.” He pulled out a folder and opened it across the counter, but my eyes couldn’t leave his. “I figured you’d want some proof or something since you’re convinced I’m not good at this, so I went ahead and brought the paper trail. He was a bit lazy on this one, so it was easier to follow. It being the first of them, he was probably convinced it wouldn’t work and had the backup security questions set to his own information. It went back to a different address, not his own at that time. He does bounce around a bit, but it’s his information. I haven’t reported it, because with him being, ya know, yourfather,I wanted to see if you wanted to handle it. But this is the proof you need, and if you want me to proceed to the detective in charge, I will.”
