Wesley

The loan officer spreads all of my documents out in front of him, a frown of concentration on his face while he taps his pen on the desk. I try not to shift nervously, but it’s hard. My neck feels tight. And, while my mouth is completely dry, my hands are so slick, as if my body took all the moisture from my mouth and shot it out of my hands.

Mr. Bellamy catches my eye and gives me a reassuring nod. He’s cool as a cucumber while I’m freaking out.

“Well, Mr. Scott, it’s all about your debt to income ratio and whether or not we feel you can pay us back. I don’t see anything on this list for rent or housing costs. Where do you live now?”

“I’m staying with a friend for now, so I don’t have a rent bill at the moment.”

“But will that change?”

“Yes, I suppose so. But I don’t have plans to move out just yet.”

He clears his throat and meets my eyes. I just know he’s going to deny me by the way he leans back in his chair instead of forward. He’s not smiling. If it were good news, he’d be smiling.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Mr. Scott. I can’t approve your loan today.”

I knew it. Hope is a stupid, cruel emotion.

“I’m not saying never, just not right now. But I have some suggestions.”

I swallow thickly and nod for him to continue.

“I need to see these paychecks coming in regularly for another few months.”

“Okay.”

“You’ve had steady employment for only two months in the last ten years. We need to see stable employment.”

I nod. That makes sense. I’m grateful when he doesn’t ask why. Mr. Bellamy told me banks do a credit check, not a background check.

“You need to build up your credit. Open a credit card—we can help you with that today, or you can go elsewhere—and use that card to pay for everything you’re already buying. Groceries, gas, anything you’re buying anyway. Don’t go crazy, just your current expenses. And pay that bill off every month, leaving no balance. This will increase your credit score.”

I never wanted credit card debt, so I stayed away from them. But it seems like that was a wrong move. “I can do that.”

“My other suggestion is to start selling your pieces now, and get some idea of what your income will be. Open up an account with the LLC if you go that route or a business account to track your expenses and your income. It will be a small scale, but it will help us to see that you have a product that will sell.”

He gathers up my papers and puts them back in the folder I brought. He hands me my things as we stand and shakes my hand.

“You come back to see me in six to twelve months, and we might have a different answer.”

I firmly grip his hand with mine. “See you then.”

Mr. Bellamy shakes his hand next. “Thank you for your time.”

We walk out of the bank, and I can’t help but feel dejected. But, when I look at Mr. Bellamy, he’s smiling.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Why are you smiling?”

“Because I’m proud of you.”

I shake my head in confusion. “Not sure what you heard back there, but I didn’t get the loan.”

“I know. I’m proud of your determination. You are chasing your dreams, staying out of trouble, and working your ass off to make it all happen. Very few people have that kind of drive, you know.”

My shoulders slump. “A lot of good that did. I still didn’t get the loan.”

“You need to look at the big picture, son. If you do what he says, you’ll be able to start your own business within one year of getting out of prison. You know how many prisoners just end up back in prison within one year? But you’re going to beat the odds and come out that much stronger. Because you’re smart and driven.”

I consider this.

He’s right. It isn’t that long in the grand scheme of things.

I take a deep breath and nod. “You’re right. I can do all the things he said and keep trying until I make it happen.”

“Perfect. Let me take you out to dinner.”

“Oh, thanks, Mr. Bellamy, but I’m going to head home and put in some hours in the garage. Anna’s stopping by to help.”

He smiles warmly at the mention of his daughter. “Anna looked different yesterday, don’t you think?”

I shrug noncommittally, wanting to tread this conversation so carefully.

“I think it’s because of you.”

My jaw drops open, heart rate kicking up. Does he know? “Me?”

“You’re good for her, Wesley. You get Anna in a way that her mother and I don’t. We hover and probe, which makes her feel like she has to put on a show for us. But you just let her be and accept her for who she is. And that’s what she needs. Thank you for making her happy.”

I meet his gaze, steady and unflinching, and tell him the truth, “I’d do anything for Anna.”

He nods. “I know you would.”

This would be the perfect time to tell him I’m in love with his daughter. But I can’t work past the lump in my throat at his words. He thinks I’m good for Anna as a friend. Would he feel the same if he knew how deep my feelings run for her?