start life’s adventures, especially important ones like marriage, when we’re too young even to know ourselves. But she’s bounced back from that very well, I think.”
“She has,” Joker agreed.
“Smart enough not to give up…on a variety of things…as well as find help.”
Joker got what she was saying so he grinned.
Mrs. Heely put a hand light to his chest. “I like her for you. I like the way you are with her. You seem happy.”
“I am, Mrs. Heely,” he confirmed.
He could swear he saw her eyes twinkle as she said, “Who would have thought my Carson Steele would catch butterflies.”
That was when Joker threw his head back and laughed.
Mrs. Heely laughed with him.
When they quit doing that, he got her safe inside and walked to his truck, knowing that Bertie was watching because he could see her at her window.
When he got back to Carissa’s house he found her in Travis’s room, her son in her arms, his PJs on. She was cooing and swaying as she paced the room. Travis had his hands around his bottle with her spotting him, his eyes drooping.
Joker rested against the jamb and watched, thinking she needed a rocking chair in that room and deciding to get her one.
When Carissa turned his way, she saw him, and that was when she gave it to him again.
Soft face. Warm eyes. Lips pursed. Blowing him a kiss.
He took it with a chin lift then walked out and left her to have some time with her boy.
When she had Travis down, she came out and spent some time stretched on the couch with her other boy.
He fiddled with her hair, his eyes on the TV, feeling her weight, her soft tits pressed to his side.
He gave it time.
Then he muttered, “You know I’m good.”
“I know you’re good,” she muttered back.
“No, baby, I’m good,” he said, emphasizing it but keeping it light, eyes still to the TV. “You don’t gotta make me better.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Mrs. Heely likes where she is,” he told her.
“Those places aren’t the greatest,” she told him.
“You don’t think so, and I get that. But she’s happy there.”
“Right,” she murmured.
“Don’t mean she won’t like company,” he noted.
“Of course,” she replied.
“A lot of it.”
There was a beat before she said, “That we can do.”
We.
He grinned at the TV, fiddled with her hair, and let it go.
Carissa fell silent and let it go too.
They finished the program, and that was when Joker decided it was time for bed.
He put in some effort, but in the end it didn’t take a lot for Carrie to agree.
Chapter Twenty-Three
We Were Free
Carissa
That next Tuesday, with my son sadly back with his father, who was thankfully being nice but mostly leaving me alone, it was after work and Joker and I were grocery shopping.
I stopped suddenly in the aisle next to the shelves of beans (we were not at LeLane’s; they were great and gave an employee discount on some things, but they were way too expensive for everyday shopping needs).
Joker, trailing me, slouched over and pushing the cart with his forearms, halted just shy of slamming into me and muttered, “Jesus, baby.”
I looked his way. “Do you like chili?”
“Yeah.”
“Chili,” I declared and started to grab cans of beans.
“You know, a list helps,” he remarked.
“I have a mental list,” I told him, tossing kidney beans in the cart and going back for black.
“Was chili on it?” he asked.
I looked to him. “Don’t you want chili?”
“What I want is not to wander every aisle so we’re here for an hour rather than bein’ here for twenty minutes gettin’ shit from a list.”
“If I stick to a list, inspiration can’t strike, like the fact I suddenly have a craving for chili,” I told him.
He shook his head, grinning and muttering, “Whatever.”
He wasn’t annoyed.
He was easy.
So I turned back and grabbed black beans. Then I got some chili beans. I finished up with pinto.
Four-bean chili. The best.
I tossed the last in and said, “That should do it.”
I was about to start walking but glanced his way first.
I halted completely because Joker was frozen, leaning into our cart, his eyes aimed down the aisle, a look on his face that could be described no other way than haunted.
I turned my head the other way and that was when I froze.
I did this because there was a man at the other end of the aisle. Tall. Broad shoulders. Silvered black hair that was messy and ill-kempt. Exceptionally handsome profile. Terrible clothes that were wrinkled and well-worn and not