Take the Chance (Top Shelf Romance #9) - Brittainy Cherry Page 0,100

sharp.

“I’m sure,” I answered Zelda, hefting my heavy-as-shit backpack higher on my shoulder. A porter came and took my green army duffel to stow it under the bus. “Whether or not I’m ready to do this, is another question.”

“Are you ready to do this?” Beckett asked with a small smile.

Zelda nudged him. “Smart ass.”

My gaze went between them fondly…and with envy. Zelda and Beckett were living their happily-ever-after, publishing their comic books, and busy being madly in love. Jealousy bit at me for what they had; a kind of love that seemed impossible for someone with my history. But I wasn’t leaving the city to find someone, I was leaving someone behind. The old me.

Leaving Zelda and Beckett was scary, but because they were my best friends, I knew they would not fade away to the background of my life as I left New York.

“Holy shit, I’m leaving New York.”

“Yes, you are,” Zelda said. “Not just leaving the city, but going clear across the country.” She pursed her lips and fixed me a look with her large green eyes. “Tell me again what San Francisco has that Brooklyn doesn’t?”

The chance to start over where no one knows me as a former drug addict.

“A job, an NA sponsor, and a six-month sublet,” I said, mustering a smile. “No fear; if my new city chews me up and spits me out, I’ll be back in NYC by Christmas.”

“You’re going to do great,” Beckett said, pulling me into a hug.

I clung tight. “Thank you.”

“But call if you need anything. Any time.”

I hid my fallen smile against his jacket. I was never the person someone called when they needed help. I was the call-er, never the call-ee.

But I can change that.

Zelda took her turn with a hug that smelled like cinnamon and ink. “Love you, Dar.”

“Love you, Zel. And you too, Becks.”

“Take care,” Beckett said. The rain became more insistent. Beckett shielded Zelda with his jacket.

“Get out of here before I cry,” I said, shooing them.

They started away and when they were out of sight, I stepped into the rain and turned my face to the sky.

There was nothing like New York rain. I let it baptize me a final time before I stepped on the bus, praying I would step off in San Francisco, clean and new.

Turns out, there’s nothing cleansing about a three-day bus ride.

Three thousand miles of road later—most of which was spent with a little old lady snoring on my shoulder—I stepped off the Greyhound into sharp, early morning San Francisco sunlight. It was more gold and metallic than New York’s hazy yellow, and I stretched in it, welcoming it. I let it infuse me, imagining it was a beam of golden light that was going to fill me with mental fortitude and the willpower to be a better version of myself. The sun’s warmth didn’t magically turn me into one of Zelda’s comic book superheroes, but it felt good anyway.

After the porter emptied the underbelly of the bus, I found my huge army duffel and slung it over my shoulder to join the weight of my purple backpack. I walked out to the bus plaza and searched for a transit map to show me the way to my new neighborhood. My eyes landed on a young guy leaning against a cement pillar, scanning the crowd. He was Hollywood-handsome; an actor playing a greaser from the 50’s with his gelled, dark brown hair and chiseled jaw. He wore a white T-shirt, jeans, and black boots. All he needed was a cigarette tucked behind one ear and a pack rolled up his sleeve. He caught sight of me and pushed himself off the pillar with his shoulder.

“Darlene Montgomery?”

I stopped. “Yeah? Who…? Are you Max Kaufman?”

“That’s me,” he said, and offered his hand.

“Aren’t you a little young to be a sponsor?” I asked, my gaze roaming over his broad, muscled chest, then up to his handsome face and piercing brown eyes.

He’s way too hot to be my sponsor. Lord, have mercy.

“The powers-that-be seemed to feel I have experience enough to be of some help,” Max said. “I started down the path of turpitude early.”

I grinned. “Advanced for your age?”

Max grinned back. “First in my class at juvie.”

I laughed, then heaved a sigh. “Dammit, you’re adorable.”

“Say again?”

I planted one hand on my hip and wagged a finger at him with the other. “Let me just tell you straight off the bat that I have sworn off men for a year. So no matter