Free Mine to Steal (Mine to Love) by T.K. Rapp Page B

partly because it’s Jett. Even though he’s my brother, sometimes he irritates the shit out of me.
    “Everything makes sense now, Faith Young ,” I lament, thinking of the girl who bumped into me and the woman she is now.
    “So how’d she look?” he asked, his curiosity evident in his tone.
    “Knockout. You wouldn’t stand a chance. Hell, I don’t think anyone stands a chance.”
    “I could turn her.”
    I scoff at his remark. “She’s got a ‘fuck off’ in neon over her head, and I think it was directed at me.”
    “Good luck with that,” he warns, as if he has experience with her. “Does she live out there?”
    “I have no idea. We didn’t get that far in the conversation. She hardly wanted to speak to me before she knew my name, but as soon as I said it, I don’t think she could get out of there fast enough.”
    “Tough break, Bro - Listen, I’d like to hear more about her, but I gotta go. I’m picking Cayenne up in an hour. Talk to ya later.”
    Before I can respond, he hangs up the phone, leaving me to my memories of the Young family. Faith , in particular. Her brother had died on the way to school when his car was hit by a drunk driver. I was a freshman and though I didn’t know the guy, everyone in school knew of him. The city practically shut down to pay their respects to the star baseball player.
    The day she ran into me, I figure she couldn’t have been more than eleven years old ; she was exactly as Jett described a moment ago. Only that day, it was a bit more extreme. Her eyes were puffy, probably from crying, and her entire body was shaking.
     
    “Are you okay?” I asked, looking down at her. My tall, lanky frame towered over her.
    “You didn’t - please, let me go,” she pleaded with he r eyes glued to the ground.
    “What’s your name?” I asked as gently as I could.
    “Faith ,” she whispered it so soft I almost didn’t hear it.
    My hands gripped her shoulders, and I bent down to lower myself so I could see into her eyes. Her fingers tensed on my biceps, digging her nails into them. Her sobs were uncontrollable. I felt bad for what I knew she had been through but couldn’t console her, so I did the only thing I could think of.
    “I’m sorry,” I whispered to her as I held her to my chest. Her arms released their hold of me and fell to her sides as mine wrapped protectively around her. I didn’t know her, but I felt the need to try to alleviate the pain radiating from her. Her sobs began to consume her, and her body shook in my arms. I felt her fingers clutching to the back of my shirt as if she needed me to hold her up. “It’ll get better,” I told her, running my hand over her back. 
    She pushed away suddenly and swiped at her eyes but refused to make eye contact. “Doubt never wins,” she muttered before pushing away from me and leaving me standing in the street watching her disappear.
     
    At the time, I thought it was a poignant statement by someone so young, but considering it was a title my idiot brother saddled her with, I suppose it was something more sinister than anything.
    She was cute for a little girl, but I was three years older than my brother. I mean, I felt bad for her, of course, but it wasn’t as if I was checking the kid out. I was doing what anyone else would have done in my situation. When she walked away that day, I didn’t think twice about her, and I haven’t thought about her since.
    Yet, in the last six months, the memory has returned and is tied to the woman I have encountered twice in the last two days. I might not have noticed her then, but here I am fourteen years later, absolutely checking her out.
    She is definitely an attractive woman and her lips…
    I won’t allow myself to continue this line of thought; I don’t have time to think about her anymore because I have a huge meeting tomorrow morning, and I need to be prepared. The Cave file is still lying on the bed where I set it down, so I riffle through everything and