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He doesn’t want you,I repeated, unwilling to delude myself even more. No matter what it would take to remember who I was and who he was, and remember that no matter what, I was no match for him.
I was just a screw-up with insomnia that he felt sorry for.
* * *
Roscoe wokeme up the next morning with an enthusiastic lick on my face, which was far more effective than any alarm. Then, I saw the text from Erwin telling me that he was giving me the day off, and I nearly whooped in delight. I got out of bed and went to wash my face and brush my teeth—Roscoe looked on in offense—and then took him out to pee.
The rest of the day was spent on the computer. I didn’t know if it was Erwin’s words or the kiss that motivated me, but I started searching for universities online that would offer me a scholarship or financial aid. I couldn’t take out loans because my dad had taken out credit cards in my name, and as a result, my credit was shit, so I could only rely on the goodwill of strangers.
I told myself not to get my hopes up, but I did anyway, only to have them dashed when the school threw in roadblocks to disqualify me from applying. Either my grades weren’t good enough, or my academic suspension made it very unlikely that I would get the scholarship. The suspension happened because I missed too many days of school while taking care of my dad when he had his drunken binges. I didn’t think it mattered at first, but now it was catching up with me.
By the afternoon, I was depressed, and with a defeated sigh, I threw myself on the couch. I wanted to better myself, but it looked like every time I wanted to pick myself up, life was ready to knock me down again. So I decided to take a nap instead, as it was sometimes easier to sleep in the afternoon. I closed my eyes, waiting for sleep to take me.
But before I could doze off, Roscoe interrupted with another series of yips as he danced around the living room. I figured he needed to go out to pee again.
“Again?” I asked as I got up and headed to the door.
But then, surprise, surprise, when I opened the door, my neighbor was standing there with an indecipherable expression on his face.
“We need to talk,” he said.
TEN
EZRA
Once I figured out my neighbor was probably Max’s daughter, the rest of the pieces started to fall into place. The first thing I did after getting back to my place was to call our PI, so he could look into Tillie’s past and get me some information in the fastest possible time.
Hardy wasn’t happy about the task. “You have an idea that it is currently close to midnight, right?”
“And?” I asked. I knew Hardy would complain about work as usual, but he knew better than to balk. I paid him above the market rate and had him on call at every moment.
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just making sure you were aware.”
“Tillie Jordan,” I read her last name from a piece of mail I’d swiped from her mailbox. “I need her family history and anything else you can find out. Friends, debt, criminal record. Anything.” I remembered the conversation I overheard with that man. If Tillie owed him money, then I would take care of it. And if they had any other business together, then it just became my problem. “Make it quick.”
“Roger. Who is this girl anyway? Someone important? Another mayor’s daughter?”
“Someone important,” was all I said before I hung up. I needed to know everything about her, and it didn’t change the outcome if she was Max’s daughter. But I needed to know enough to piece together the puzzle immediately.
Hardy got back to me a few hours later, at around 1 a.m. I was still awake with a glass of brandy, staring out my kitchen window. I’d watched Tillie drive back in a few hours ago and enter her house. I didn’t know where she was coming from, and I told myself I didn’t want to know. I was just happy she hadn’t stayed out later.
A lot of things swam through my mind as I sat there, including the kiss.
Fuck, I’d kissed Max’s daughter. A girl that was young enough to be my daughter. His little girl that I was supposed to find and protect.
What a fucking mess.
I rubbed my head, feeling indescribably angry at myself. I was old enough to be her father. Max was a few years older than me, but not by much. That meant his daughter was definitely out of the realm of acceptable romantic relationships because I wasn’t the type to rob the cradle. Not only that, but she was also incredibly troubled, and I didn’t want to screw her life up anymore over what would be meaningless sex.
So why the fuck did I kiss her?
Just then, the phone rang and drew me away from my musings. But I was still in a bad mood when I answered, “What?”
“Jeez, don’t chew my head off. You’re the one who has me digging into some random girl’s past at an ungodly hour.”
I didn’t tell him my irritation was with myself and not with him. “What did you find?”
“Everything there was to find. Her name is Tillie Jordan, daughter of Owen Jordan and Priscilla Jordan.”
