way of cooking too much food all the time, and I knew it was because she was determined to send me home with leftovers each night. I swore, the woman probably thought I couldn’t make a frozen pizza without burning it.
I never argued with her about the leftovers she sent with me. The truth was, I’d burned my fair share of frozen pizzas, so Joy’s concern was warranted.
“I think she’s so sweet. Beautiful, too,” Joy commented, placing salad on her plate before passing the bowl to me.
“Oh?” I said, sounding disinterested even though I’d have been a damn fool not to notice how good-looking the woman was who’d moved in next door. Good-looking felt like an understatement. She was breathtaking. Her tight honey curls bounced every time she smiled, and when she smiled, damn…
That smile made even my cold heart want to feel slight warmth. She had long legs that went on for days, vibrant clothing, and short shorts that hugged her ass in all the right places. Then those eyes…
Those damn eyes. Why did they look so familiar to me, as if they were a key to a memory I hadn’t been able to unlock? Those eyes smiled even more than her lips. When she was sad or spooked, her eyes frowned more than her lips, too. It was as if her irises were the pathway to her story, but I hadn’t been able to dive deep into her language, hadn’t cracked her code. I didn’t know what story her stare was telling. I didn’t understand the words lingering in her eyes.
Shit, I hadn’t even tried to understand.
I didn’t want to try.
“She seems like a good girl,” Joy went on. “Nice personality, too. You know each morning she greets me with the biggest smile and asks if I need anything? She’s a sweetie pie like that. The world needs more nice girls.”
Why? So it could destroy them?
If I knew anything about nice people, it was that the rest of the world wouldn’t stop itself from beating the kindness out of them. It was as if niceness was a disease and everyone was determined to pummel anyone who displayed its symptoms. I’d spent the past twenty-eight years having any positive light beaten out of my system, and if I’d learned anything, it was that the world wasn’t made for nice people. It was created to destroy them.
I stayed quiet as Joy kept going on about her. “You should talk to her more, get to know her.”
I snickered a bit. “Not really into making friends, Joy.” She knew this. It wasn’t a secret. A warning sign of that should’ve been when my best guy mate was my fucking therapist and my best lady friend was almost ninety. “Besides, I have you.” I always figured if you had a true friend, you were better off than most. And me? I had a handful of them—if I counted Connor. Based on statistics, I probably had one too many.
“Yes, well, one day I’ll be gone, and you’ll need a new one. You better start putting out feelers now. I ain’t getting any younger, boy. Besides, I think she could use a friend, too. She lost somebody, just like the both of us.”
My eyebrow arched. “She told you that?”
Joy shook her head. “Loss isn’t something that needs to be said. It sits heavily within a person’s eyes. People who have lost loved ones move a little differently. Her loss still feels fresh, as if she doesn’t know how to move through each day. That’s something I can understand. I think it’s something you can understand, too, so consider getting to know her a little.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You aren’t trying to play matchmaker since I broke up with Amanda, are you?”
“No, no, not this time. Not a matchmaker—just a friend-maker. Contrary to your personal belief, everyone needs friends, Jaxson, even the black sheep in a small town like Havenbarrow.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“And by the way, I’m happy you broke up with that Amanda girl. She was too pushy,” she said, waving a hand in dismissal. “Always wanting you to be someone you weren’t, trying to change you into someone she wanted you to be—I didn’t like that. Plus, she didn’t like my lemon cake.”
I laughed. “Which was exactly why I broke things off with her.”
She reached across and patted my hand with her palm. “What a good man you are, Jax. Speaking about my neighbor,” she said, switching the subject back to what she