Free Whatever It Takes (Second Chances #2) by L. E. Bross Page A

stuck in quicksand.
    Shit.
    I heard a door open and Tess came out in a flowy tank top and her cutoff shorts. Her hair was still wet, but she’d brushed it. She also had the bag.
    “I confiscated it, but not before he ate two.” She shook her head. “Thank you. For bringing him back up. When I got out of the shower and couldn’t find him . . . God, he knows better. I showed him how to unlock the door only in case there was a fire or something. I never thought he’d just go outside.” Her hand started to shake, and I grabbed the chai latte from the holder and gave it to her.
    “I think he was headed right back up once he figured out the car door was locked,” I offered.
    “But what if . . . I mean, this neighborhood isn’t the best. God. Our old one was so much better. He could play outside. We had nice neighbors. Now, I don’t even like to let him play with me standing right next to him.” Her eyes started to glisten and she blinked rapidly. “We have to drive to the park so he can stand in line for the slide now. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”
    She said the last words under her breath and sank down onto the couch. And sank some more as the cushion gave way. That thing had to be as old as time, and it looked like it might have belonged in a tribute-to-the-sixties museum—all huge flowers in awful colors. Or maybe Tess was into that retro look?
    Her entire apartment, what little furniture there was, seemed to have been collected for its . . . age. A lot of things were. Her car. This place. Even the toolbox Noah had used to help me with the starter was a cheap plastic knockoff with a broken handle.
    I wanted to ask so badly it hurt.
    But I bit my tongue.
    Tess took a long drink of chai, then exhaled. When she looked up, there was less panic around her eyes. “Sorry. That just really freaked me out. So, since this really isn’t a destination hot spot, you can’t have just been in the neighborhood . . .”
    “I . . . ahhh . . . wanted to make sure your car was running okay.”
    A half smile turned her lips up on one corner. “Better than it has in a long time.”
    “Good.”
    And . . . I hadn’t quite thought through to this awkward part after I checked on her car. I didn’t want to leave her yet. I yanked my cap off and dragged my fingers through my hair.
    A smile danced over her lips. “You used to do that a lot when you were nervous.”
    I froze and her eyes went wide. The monkey in the room just danced across the high wire between us. I cleared my throat and shoved my cap back on. I should go now. Since I didn’t really know what the hell I was doing here in the first place, standing there saying nothing was just making it worse.
    “I, ahh . . .” I said.
    “So you . . .” she said at the same time.
    “Go ahead,” I said a little too quickly.
    Tess pushed herself up and moved a little closer to set her cup down and grab the bag that was on the coffee table. “So you said you work in construction?” Her gaze was interested and not censorious. It was hit or miss when people found out what I did.
    Shari seemed incredulous that this was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Working with my hands gave me the kind of satisfaction nothing else did. I created things. Fixed things. And yes, the irony was not lost on me.
    But I was good at it and had no plans to do anything else right off.
    “Yeah. I started helping my dad out a few years ago and it stuck. Guess I’m pretty good at it, because I stay busy.”
    “How are your parents? I remember they were always so nice to me.”
    Anger pooled in my gut. “My mother took off about a year after you did.” I didn’t mean it to sound so harsh, but any time my mother came up, I couldn’t stop the surge of raw fury that always followed.
    Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, God, Ryan. I’m sorry. That must have been awful.”
    For the first time since I first saw her, the bitterness rose up. “Yeah, it sucked