Page 4 of Nave (Henchmen MC: Next Generation #14)

Lolly

I guess it was really lucky that the man I was looking for wasn’t a John, Jake, or Michael.

Because Navesink Bank ended up being a lot larger than I’d been anticipating.

When he’d spoken of it in our brief conversations, he made it sound quaint, small, familiar. The kind of town where everybody knew everybody.

It had been a shock to learn that it was a town of nearly seventy thousand people. Not a big city by any stretch, but certainly not a small town either.

My stomach was in knots as I slipped the large sunglasses on my face, stuck a baseball cap with a wide brim on my head, and climbed out of the car with Edith nestled discreetly in a purse bag that I hoped no one would notice.

Generally, I didn’t like when people brought dogs into non-dog-friendly establishments. But I had nowhere to leave Edith, and it was too hot to leave her in the car. It was a necessary evil.

Besides, I would be quick.

I was just grabbing a coffee. Then asking if anyone knew where I could find Nave.

Even just thinking his name made my belly twist.

Maybe it was foolish of me, but he’d been the hero I fantasized about for the past few weeks. Without the hope of him helping me, I wasn’t sure I could have gotten the courage to put my plans into motion. Then to follow through with them.

So even if the reality didn’t live up to that hype I’d created, I would be thankful for his existence. Without it, well, I didn’t even want to think about what would be happening. Especially now.

Everything had changed.

From now until forever.

And the only thing that mattered was staying free.

With or without Nave’s help.

Taking a deep breath, I forced my thoughts aside as I pulled open the door to Deja Brew—a cute little coffee shop in a small strip mall just outside the main area of town. It was surprisingly heavy on cameras for such a small place, so I found myself ducking my head as I moved inside.

“Hey! Give me one sec,” a voice called from the back as I made my way to the counter.

“Take your time,” I called back, taking a chance to look up at the menu, searching for the cheapest options.

“Alright,” a woman said, coming up from the back, her black apron splattered with flour. Tall and pretty, she had her light green hair pulled up in a top knot, and her tank top let her tattooed arms be on full display. “What can I get ya?”

“Can I get a small oolong tea and the small chocolate croissant, please?”

“Absolutely. Is it as muggy out there as I imagine it is?” she asked as she moved to start making my drink.

“Probably worse.”

“Ugh. It was pretty bad when I came in here at, like, five. I stood in the walk-in for a few minutes to cool off. I’ve had the air set to ‘meat locker’ all day since I’ve had to have the ovens on.”

A large tea dropped down in front of me, making my brows knit.

“It’s literally just water. The tea is the tea, no matter what size you order,” she explained.

“Thank you.” I shot her a warm smile. I could use any small wins I could get. My morale was hanging on by a thread.

The woman—Shale, her name tag said—waved that off as she moved toward the dessert case. “So, are you here for the… beach?” she asked, glancing at my get-up.

I didn’t know there was a beach.

But I wouldn’t mind seeing it.

That, at least, would be a safe place to visit for me.

“No. I’m just passing through, really.” It wasn’t a lie. “I was hoping to connect with an old friend. But I have no idea how to find him.”

“Oh, yeah? Who are you looking for? I can’t claim to know everyone in town. But I’ve met a lot of them.”

“His name is Nave,” I explained.

“Nave?” Shale asked, popping up to look at me with a raised brow and a more appraising look.

“Yeah, I knew him a long while back when he was… passing through my town. He mentioned meeting up if I ever passed through his. But I lost his number.”

Okay, that was a lie.

There had been no way for him to give me his number.

In retrospect, I was pretty sure that was why he’d mentioned the name of his hometown so many times. Back then, I thought it was just homesickness making him say it so often. And maybe that was part of it. But now I thought it was so that he was sure I could never forget it.

“You lucked out. He moved back to town a few years ago. And he can almost always be found at the same place.”

Shale walked up to the counter, putting the brown pastry bag down, then tapping in the order.

I reached for the cash and passed it to her.

“Where’s that?” I asked, keeping my tone light and breezy, not wanting to come off as some crazy ex or stalker.

“The Henchmen clubhouse.”

Shale passed me my change.

“On the main strip,” she explained. “Long, low building. Big fence. Tons of bikes. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you.” The smile was genuine and I just hoped she didn’t see the relief in it.

“Of course. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you. Both of you,” she added with a little smile toward my purse.

“Sorry,” I said, wincing. “It’s too hot to leave her in the car.”

“Don’t be. I would bring my dog in here every day if I could. She’s not walking on the floor or anything. I don’t mind. Can I get a peek at her?”

I was quick to unzip the bag, and Edith was just as quick to pop her tiny head out.

“Oh. My. God. She’s so precious.”

“She is. I mean, she’s incredibly high maintenance, but the cutest thing ever.”

“Okay. Hold on,” Shale said, scurrying over toward the case again. When she came back, there was another pastry bag, seemingly full. “Doggy cookies. She clearly deserves all of them. On the house.”

“Thank you. She will love them.” Edith’s nose was already wiggling as she sniffed hard.

“Hope you can find Nave. He’s a good guy.”

I was praying that was true as I made my way back to the car, setting Edith down on the passenger seat with one of her fancy baked cookies before opening my own bag. To find Shale had given me the full-sized chocolate croissant.

Tears flooded my eyes, and I didn’t even try to blink them away as I tore off some of the pastry and put it in my mouth.

Kindness, it seemed, was in the water or something in Navesink Bank.

I forced myself to eat the croissant slowly, savoring each bite, knowing I wouldn’t be able to have anything so decadent again for a long time.

Then I sipped my tea as I found a park to walk Edith around.

She was a tiny breed, sure, but she was big on her exercise. Which, to be fair, was something I’d fostered in her from almost the moment I’d gotten her. For what were mostly selfish reasons. But we’d bonded a lot on our walks. Even if we walked the same two routes every single day of her life.

She was clearly enjoying the change in venue, stopping to sniff everything, barking at squirrels, and one particularly fat dove who’d just been trying to eat some bread leftover from someone’s picnic.

Even after my tea was gone and Edith insisted on being picked up, I couldn’t make myself get back in the car. Instead, I sat on the bench, watching other owners walk their dogs, seeing moms show up with their littles. Then, as the afternoon dragged on, the teenagers came to kick around.

It wasn’t until Edith grumbled, her belly telling her it was dinnertime, that I finally jolted out of my stupor and walked back toward the car.

“Sorry, girl,” I murmured to Edith as I set her up in the backseat with food and water. “Kinda slipped away there, didn’t I?”

She was used to it.

Disassociating was one of the many tools that helped me survive the last few years. I could drift off into my own mind for hours at a time. Once, I’d sat down early one morning and didn’t really snap out of it until dinnertime. And then only because Edith demanded to be fed.

“Hopefully, I won’t need to do that so much anymore,” I added, watching her eat and feeling my own stomach grumble.

I had some food stores. But not much. And nothing that sounded even remotely appetizing.

I was trying to save as much of my money as possible for gas, so I didn’t want to buy anything else.

The croissant was just going to have to be enough until I knew for sure whether or not I had someone who could help me.

After Edith ate and rested to digest, we took another walk.

Then, finally, I forced myself to find the center strip of Navesink Bank. And drove past the clubhouse no fewer than four times, trying to get my nerve up to walk in.

Just then, as I finally got a parking space, all the motorcycles and cars started to pull in. Not too long later, a bunch of scantily clad women wobbled on icepick heels on their way inside. Music thumped, and sounds of laughter spilled out into the night.

They were having a party.

“Well, that’s slightly less intimidating, isn’t it?

” I asked Edith. She gave me a dubious look.

“It’ll be fine. I saw a bunch of women go in.

You’re going to have to go back in your bag, though,” I told her.

I got a sniff in response. Sometimes, I swore she was part human with how she seemed to understand a situation.

“How about I give you another… cookie?” I shook the bag for her.

I barely managed to toss it into the purse before she jumped inside.

“Hopefully, it won’t be for too long,” I told her as I pulled down the visor, fluffing my hair and trying to bring some order to my messy bangs.

Why? I didn’t know. It wasn’t like I was there to seduce Nave or anything—just beg for help.

The worse I looked, the better. So I guess it was a blessing that I looked like I hadn’t slept in a month.

“Alright. Cross your toe beans for me, okay? All eighteen of them.”

I picked up the bag, sucked in a steadying breath, and then climbed out of the car.

It was a short walk down the street, but my anxiety ratcheted up with each step. Until I could feel my pulse in all different places: my neck, ears, temples, heart, wrists, knees, and feet.

I was expecting someone to spot me and immediately ask what the hell I was doing there. I clearly wasn’t dressed to party in my linen shorts and plain white tee.

But the couple of men who were hanging around either didn’t notice me, or gave me nods of acknowledgment and immediately looked away.

There was a time when I would have been insulted by the lack of attention. But this version of me knew that anonymity was precious. Better that everyone who saw me immediately forgot I existed.

I pulled the door open, saying a silent apology to Edith’s ears as the music thumped hard enough to thud through my body.

The place was packed. Men and women stood around, played pool and beer pong, threw darts, and did body shots on the bar.

I scanned the faces with my heart in a vice grip as each one came back unfamiliar.

Then, suddenly, there he was.

Sitting in a chair next to a coffee table that was piled with donut boxes.

I swallowed back the saliva that flooded my mouth, pulled my shoulders back, and forced myself to walk over toward him.

He looked like I remembered.

Better, actually.

Age had favored him in the way men were lucky enough to experience, his features chiseling deeper, the slight creases near his eyes only making his dark eyes look just a little softer. He had the same dark hair, the cleft chin, and the slight hint of freckles over the bridge of his nose.

What was different was the lowered shoulders, the unclenched jaw, the lack of cuts and bruises.

He seemed calmer, more relaxed.

Not up against the world.

I felt bad taking that from him, dragging him into my mess.

But I had no other choice.

I cleared my throat as I stepped closer.

“Nave?”

I saw him startle, saw the way his brows knitted, like he was trying to place the voice.

Then his head lifted.

His gaze landed with impact, knocking what was left of my breath from me.

“Lolly?”

All the moisture in my mouth dried up. My tongue felt chalky as I forced myself to speak.

“Um, I’m not sure if you, uh, remember. But you, erm, once said that if I ever needed anything, that I could come to you.”

“I remember,” he said, giving me a tight little nod. “I remember everything.”