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Jimmy’s offer seemed too good to be true. Maybe because he was someone I could see myself with. Like, long-term with. Forever. His wicked sense of humor spurred me to be on the lookout for the next shared joke. Jimmy’s rock-solid support at the hospital tempered my anxiety and made me feel less alone. Even hanging out on the couch with him was imbued with a certain sweetness. Companionship was too bland a word, but he balanced soothing and sexy. I could forgive him the distraction of his body, because being with him felt natural.

Every time I gave him an out, he doubled down and stepped up even more. He was not what I expected from the hot guy at the gym who looked like he could bench a car. And I wasn’t ready for husband material. Not yet. It was too early. Which made agreeing to only a year seem cheap. Or false. Or like I was kidding myself and headed for heartbreak. What if he wanted out after a year and I didn’t? I didn’t want to think about him on the prowl for someone else while we were together. I’d seen the way other women acted the fool around him, myself included. He was a flirtation magnet with his easy smile.

“What if he does find someone else?” I asked.

“Then you’ve avoided bankruptcy and had a year to get your feet under you,” she answered pragmatically.

If only I could be that cool.

“Let’s try this a different way,” she said. “What if you don’t take him up on it. What happens then? How are things different? Do you keep dating him?”

I nodded my head slowly. Nothing about this made me want to give up on Jimmy. He’d been sweet and supportive, even if I didn’t necessarily agree with his plans. Plus, he made my girl parts tingle. No batteries required.

“So, if you help him out and he helps you out, is that a bad thing? It sounds like you already care about each other.”

“Yeah, but what if it doesn’t work out?”

What if I cared too much and got in too deep?

I had a hard time distancing myself. I’d been ready to give up everything for my high school boyfriend. Until he dumped me. The specter of distraction from my goals hung over my shoulder. I didn’t want to give up on Jimmy. And I didn’t want to give up on myself. But would one necessitate the other? Jimmy had been nothing but flexible about managing our dates around my schedule.

She shrugged. “But what if it does work out?”

I didn’t have an answer. No one did. That was the problem. She let the subject drop, and I finished my salad, trying to savor the crunch of the lettuce. As unexciting as the greens were, they were still better than ramen, which is what I’d be living on once the medical bills rolled in.



















Chapter 5

Jimmy – Letting Our Hair Down

It was a normal shift. It was normal in that the city of Tacoma let its hair down. It let its hair downa lot. Back-to-back calls, each one more ridiculous than the last. The final dispatch was for a possible DOA. We arrived to find an artfully posed dummy on the front porch in full horror makeup. The resident was mortified when they realized their mistake. I had to wonder what the silver-haired man had done to his neighborhood teenagers to earn that kind of retribution.

I had beer stories for days. Some I couldn’t tell due to confidentiality. Some I couldn’t tell because they were too sad. I wouldn’t make it to retirement if I focused on the sad stories. It was another reason marriage to Melena made sense. The gym was my only outlet for the frustrations and fears of my job. I’d lived alone too long. The guys I’d grown up with went from semi-regular game nights to hanging with their girlfriends.

Going out on my own held little appeal. My list of single wing men or women had shrunk until it contained only my sister Andi. She would happily go with me to the bar. Andi would smile wide and introduce me to a gorgeous woman with a rack that could feed a small county’s worth of newborns. Andi would finesse a setup, then jokingly tell them to “stay sexy and don’t get murdered” while making obnoxious eyebrow motions in my direction. Ask me how I know. The local fish house bar still had skid marks from one poor woman’s heels. It took more than a few beers to forgive my sister. And I still went home alone.

The isolation only added to my growing dissatisfaction. Mark, my mentor in my company, had noticed and commented on my growing weariness. He’d told me point blank—I needed more than the job to keep me grounded if I wanted to work for the long haul.