Chapter Three

The morning sun rose steadily up and over the stadium, casting an eerie glow across the running track. CJ focused on the beat of the music playing on his iPhone as he ran a final lap of the track. He could feel the burn of exhaustion behind his knee but refused to give into it.

Just a little longer, CJ.

His breath blew backward in a heated mist against the cool, fresh morning air. Another sleepless night had left him frustrated and heading out for an early run. There was so much going on and this was the best way to clear his mind. Chasing the finish line, he glanced down at his watch. He’d started the forty minute run at six. Crossing the painted line, he slowed to a jog and gradually came to a full stop. Catching his breath, he bent over and rubbed at his stiff leg. Jodie was meeting him at the center at eight to look at the finances.

West Grove was a project close to his heart. But in trying to give local kids access to sport equipment and games, the project had eaten up most of his savings and despite a few thousand from a local grant, there just wasn’t enough money coming into the center. They needed revenue and they needed it soon.

Pulling his cell from inside his jacket, he stopped the music track and shook the headphones from his ears. Sniffing from the cold, he scrolled quickly through his messages. Jodie had sent him a string of cryptic texts last night and he couldn’t quite figure who the hell she was ranting about. The mysterious he apparently had some nerve showing up and should fuck off back to where he’d been hiding. He figured it must be one of her various exes. Rob was the longest relationship she’d had in almost five years, then one day, somehow, she had gotten him to propose.

Poor bastard.

With a sigh, he noted the newest message received just ten minutes ago. This one wasn’t from his sister. The text, however, was entirely her fault. Jodie seemed to think he needed a man in his life and had made it her mission to find him his Mr Perfect. Grant had been number nine on the list of men she’d set him up with. Not that he was counting, of course. The guy had been okay. They always were. But maybe he didn’t want to settle for Mr Okay. Not that it mattered. Things could be, and they had been, amazing, but then it would come down to it—sex. It wasn’t that he disliked sex. He just had his issues. And after Mr Okay number six, he’d realized sharing those particular issues was a mistake. He had seen it in their eyes, every single one of them—pity and unease. Enough had been enough. Clothes on, lights out and mutual masturbation was what he was about these days, and he was okay with that. He was Mr Fucking Okay.

Without reading the message, he deleted the text then navigated to his contacts list. Scrolling through, he stopped at Grant’s name and selected the various options, quickly deleting the number.

“Sorry, Grant,” he said and slid his phone back into his jacket. He wished he felt bad. He honestly did. Grant was nice, but nice was just that. No one wanted to be described as nice. Hot, handsome, sexy, wild, amazing—the man who made his heart leap in his chest just from a look. Grant wasn’t that guy.

Grabbing his bag from the side of the track, CJ pulled out his sports bottle and took a long drink. Running never seemed to get any easier, but then, why should it? He was lucky to be running at all, he figured. Securing the bottle in the front of his bag, he swung the pack on his shoulder and brushed his dark, curly bangs across forehead to hide the small, horseshoe-shaped scar near his hairline. Though it had faded in the seven years since he had received the mark, he was still very conscious of the scar. In fact, whenever he touched it, he swore he could feel the searing pain of his head bouncing off glass over and over. He just wished it was the only scar he had. Maybe then, things—he—would have been so very different.

Shaking away the unwanted memory, he hitched his pack higher and made a determined walk toward the exit. He had a future to figure out. There was no time to get stuck in the past.

* * * *

“Come on!” CJ clapped his hands together. “You’ve five minutes. Parker, cover Lacey. We can do this, guys.” The mixed five-a-side soccer match was in its last few minutes. The score was one-nil, and not in his team’s favor. He glanced across the indoor pitch and caught sight of Mikey Donovan’s smug face. Damn it. This was the fifth week in a row the guy had picked the winning team. It didn’t seem to matter what combination of kids he selected, the guy was on a streak.

With a heavy sigh, CJ turned back to the match. He smiled to himself as he watched Parker Dixon run on his chubby legs across the pitch. Okay, so maybe not every combination. Parker was a real sweet kid, slightly on the chunky side, but sweet. Unfortunately, the kid had the sporting prowess of a T-Rex on roller-skates, and six weeks of being picked last hadn’t done him or his self-confidence a shred of good. Though CJ’s urge to win was just as strong as Mikey’s, CJ just couldn’t bear to see the kid get knocked back again. So after another game and another defeat, he reminded himself it was all about the taking part. However, right now, watching Parker give the ball away yet again to the delicate, pink-loving Lacey Fletcher, CJ had a hard time believing it. Would the kids’ parents approve of a new group ethic—the total annihilation of the other team?

“One minute!” Mikey called and tapped the face of his oversized watch.

CJ rested his elbows on the low gate. All that mattered to him was that the kids were safe and having fun. Three years it had taken him to get the Grove to exactly where he wanted it to be. But in the uncertain economic climate, keeping it going was turning into an uphill, or rather up-Everest, struggle. Bills were piling up, but funding had disappeared, and he wasn’t sure what the hell he was going to do.

The shrill sounding of Mikey’s whistle called time and CJ applauded the efforts of the two teams. “Well done, guys.” He unlocked the gate and patted each of his team on the back. “Well done, Mr Donovan,” he said as Mikey joined him at the gate.

“Thank you, Mr Williams,” he said with a laugh. “I think we were pretty evenly matched this time.”

CJ rolled his eyes. Checking the kids were on their way to the changing rooms and out of earshot, he said, “Just once, could you pick him? Please?”

There was no way Mikey was agreeing to that. “No way, man.” He took the whistle from around his neck and handed it to CJ. “Besides, you know he likes you more than me. The kid might cry if he thinks he can’t be on Mr William’s team.”

“I suppose,” CJ said as he wound the string around the whistle and put it in his pocket. Parker was one of those kinds of kids—emotional, clingy and insecure. But he was one of those kids CJ was determined to keep this place open and running for. There was no money in the town and nothing and nowhere for children like Parker or Lacey—or the other fifty-two kids who regularly came to the Grove—to go. He just wanted to give them somewhere safe, enjoyable, and offer them a little escape at the same time.

His cell vibrating in his pocket distracted him. He pulled it out and checked the screen. Jodie. She was no doubt calling with an apology as to why she was already three hours late.

“Hey, sisface,” he said, greeting her with the childhood nickname.

“I’m five minutes out,” Jodie came back over the phone. She sounded distracted and her voice distant and broken. “I am so sorry.”

CJ pressed his cell a little firmer to his ear. Was she driving? “Put the phone down and just get your ass here in one piece, okay?”

“Sorry!” she shouted. She probably had it in her lap.

Hanging up, CJ instinctively rubbed at his shoulder. It was a habit he had worked hard to overcome, and half the time he swore he imagined the old injury. But when he felt tense or things got him down, he just couldn’t stop himself from comforting the seven year echo of hurt. Like now, Jodie should have known better than to dare call him while she was driving. He hated it when she did that. No eating, drinking, smoking, phoning, speeding—nothing. Those were the rules, whether he was in the car or not. He didn’t care if she viewed him as an overprotective asshole, because hell if she hadn’t told him so on several occasions. He just wanted her to be safe.

Shit. Now he was all worried and anxious. Why wasn’t she here already?

“Anything you want me to do before lunch?” Mikey asked as he locked the gate behind him, and CJ appreciated the distraction.

Shaking his head, CJ said, “No. You take your break. I think most of these guys are heading home.” He nodded toward the kids congregating beside the entrance. He’d keep an eye on them until their parents arrived to pick them up. “I’ll head outside with Sharny and the rest of them. It seems to have warmed up a little since this morning. We’ll get them running about and some fresh air in them.”

Mikey laughed. “Okay. I’ll be back in an hour.”

CJ gave a short wave and headed over to the waiting children. He wondered what they would be doing for the rest of the day. It was the week of Spring Break, and he had been excited to open the Grove up daily for the full week, and not just as an after school or weekend club.

“Mr Williams?”

CJ looked down at the thirteen year old Parker.

“I forgot my lunch.”

He wasn’t all that surprised. Parker very rarely turned up with anything more than the clothes on his back. He borrowed kit, shared food and seemed to be at the club from open to close. For a little while, CJ had been concerned, but the kid was healthy, clean, happy and never had a mark on him. His parents just worked all day, so though CJ perceived it as being a little sad that he was spending more time playing and engaging their son in games and activities than they were, he was at least satisfied the boy was being cared for.

“What time are your parents collecting you today?” he asked.

Parker rolled his eyes up to the ceiling as he took a moment to think. “Mom’s coming at four.”

CJ sighed. The kid was going to need something. “Okay. We’ll figure something out,” he said and gave an encouraging smile. “How about you go and help Sharny set up outside? Can you do that?”

Parker nodded enthusiastically and turned on his heel, dashing after Sharny as she headed outside with a pile of cones and a net of foam balls. CJ chuckled to himself as he watched the boy chase after her and the despairing look on her face as she was caught. God love the kid.

* * * *

“I know. I know.” Jodie raised her hands as she walked into CJ’s office. She had a cardboard coffee cup in one hand, her cell phone in the other and her oversized handbag hung awkwardly at the bend of her elbow. “My timekeeping sucks.” Her five minutes had become thirty.

“You had time to stop for coffee?” CJ folded his arms across his chest.

Jodie glanced at the cup in her hand before holding it out to him. “For you. Peace offering. Plus figured you might need it.” When CJ didn’t take it, she began to sway it temptingly from side to side. “Extra frothy and sprinkles,” she said in high voice as she feigned excitement.

CJ sighed and took the cup, removing the lid. She was probably right. He was going to need it. Finances and grown-up stuff made his head hurt. “Fine. You’re forgiven, assuming coffee can solve the fact that we have no money.” He sipped at the hot liquid. Damn, it was good. He met his sister’s eyes. She was clearly confused and disbelief seemed to cloud her eyes.

“What?” he asked. Did he have a cream mustache?

“You got my messages, right?”

CJ narrowed his eyes. “Yes. An ex or something pissed you off. Sorry I didn’t reply. Date with Grant, remember?”

“Oh yes.” Her interest was piqued and the texts forgotten as she lowered her bag to the floor and slid into the seat opposite him. “How did it go? Date number four, wasn’t it?” She sat back in the chair and played with the hair behind her ear. “He was nice.”

“And therein lies the problem. I don’t want nice.”“

Jodie raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, I don’t want nice,” he emphasized the word. “I want heat and sparks and…” He wanted someone who could challenge him. “Grant was just nice.”

“He was too old,” Jodie decided. “Maybe you need a nice little college twink to liven things up.”

CJ was twenty-five not forty. “I don’t want a twink. I don’t even know if I want a relationship right now. This place takes up all of my time.” It was a mistake to make eye contact with Jodie. It was like she could see straight through him and into his heart.

Jodie leaned forward and ran her fluorescent pink varnished nails over the edge of the old wooden desk. “You don’t want to be alone. But you also don’t want to get close to anyone.” She sat back, pressing her lips in a firm line. “And we both know whose fault that is.” Her blue eyes seemed to ice over as she remembered the man who had broken CJ’s heart. “He left you in that car—”

“Don’t.”

She huffed a breath and folded her arms. “You might not want to think it, but he did. He left you.” Anger and hurt radiated off her. “He left you, and then he left you all over again, lying in that bed when he fucked off to LA.”

CJ pressed his palms together and tapped his chin. Closing his eyes, once blurred memories came to the foreground. He was too tired to get into this with her right now. It had taken time, years, but he wasn’t angry anymore. It had been an accident and shit happened all the time to everybody. They just had to get on with it and cut the crap and the accusations.

“Not now, okay?” He opened his eyes and shot her a pleading look. There were other, more important things to deal with.

“You don’t know.”

“Know what?”

Jodie laughed and went to speak, but was interrupted by a knock on the office door.

“Yeah?” CJ looked at the man standing in the doorway. “Can I help you?”

“Hi,” the man started, but seemed distracted as he laid eyes on Jodie.

“Yes?” CJ eyed the man up and down. Oakland was a small town and everybody knew everybody and their business. This man he’d never seen before.

“I’m Marcus Denton,” the man said, focusing his attention back on CJ. “I wanted to talk to someone about possible volunteer work for the next two weeks. Are you in charge?”

Voluntary. CJ liked that word. “Sure. You can talk to me. What were you thinking?”

“It’s not for me, exactly.” Marcus stepped sideways and indicated his companion who’d joined him.

As CJ clocked the second man, he felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. Eric Fox had walked, or rather run, out of his life seven years ago. He couldn’t be real. “Eric?”

“Hello, Casey,” Eric said, his voice unsteady as he seemed equally surprised to see CJ as CJ was to see him. “How are you?”