My shift begins in ten minutes. I pick at the Dastardly’s shorts, pulling them down to cover more leg. The uniform is sized for a girl in middle school.

“Let Harper tell the story one more time.” Dane shoots a foam basketball toward the hoop mounted on his office door. It falls short.

Josie retrieves the squishy orange ball and shoots. The ball glides in. “It’s pretty unbelievable. My brother is a raging madman. Antonio is huge. What was Leo thinking? A writer can’t type with broken fingers.”

“He’s lucky that Antonio let it go. And Leo’s fingers aren’t broken. They’re probably only bruised.” I stare at my own knuckles in my lap. I can still see how Leo’s bloodied knuckles looked when I pulled his hands from their grip on Antonio’s shirt.

I focus on Dane’s desk and then look away. It makes me blush just thinking of the time I was in here with Leo.

“So,” Dane says, “Leo pops Antonio in the face—BAM—and then what? Does Antonio get one in or—” Dane darts from side to side with his fists up like he’s sparring.

“Argh. I’ve already told you. That’s it. I jumped between them because I panicked that someone would get hurt—”

“Someone? You mean Leo,” Josie says. “My brother hasn’t been in a fight since high school.”

“Leo’s fist came out of nowhere. One minute they’re both mouthy and next thing Antonio holding his nose. Leo was so fast and—”

“Leo must’ve caught him off-guard. That’s all I can figure,” Josie says.

“Go on, Harper. Josie hon. Let the girl finish her story.” Dane raises both eyebrows.

Josie throws the foam ball at his head.

I sigh. “That’s basically it. Then Antonio put his hands up in the air and his nose was bleeding and it was awful. I asked him to leave.”

“Leo or Antonio?” Dane asks.

Josie throws a pen at him this time. “Antonio. Why would Leo leave? He lives there.”

“So. Cool,” Dane says. “You and Leo make up?”

“It’s not that easy.” I bend over and place my face in my hands. I peer up at Dane. “I need a stable guy. One I can trust with my heart, you know?” I stand so I can get back to my shift.

Dane makes a sad face and nods slowly. “So, you and this Antonio guy. You’re seeing him now?”

Josie rolls her eyes. “Antonio doesn’t want to date her. He’s probably got his eye on my brother, not Harper.”

“That guy? No way.” Dane’s brow furrows into deep lines.

“Told me himself.” Josie says.

Dane grins and takes his feet off the desk. “There’s never a dull moment with you two.” He chucks my chin on the way out. “It’ll turn out how it’s supposed to turn out,” he says over his shoulder.

“He’s such a wise one,” Josie says.

* * *

It’s a Friday and I have the day off. Leo and I have passed each other in the hallway exactly two times this week. The first time, I pretended to read my cell phone while walking. The second, I held the phone to my ear and had a long conversation with myself.

It’s beyond sad that the conversation was actually interesting. I’m so lonely for Leo in my life. Still, I’m not about to apologize for anything. What would I apologize for? I don’t understand why he cares if Antonio walked me to the door.

Because even if Leo wasn’t on a date that night, he was flirting with a girl—buying her drinks, sitting next to her, letting her whisper sweet somethings in his ear. I get physically ill every time I picture the scene.

Antonio’s just a nice guy who commiserated when I started blubbering like some sad baby over losing Leo and not wanting to let go.

I pocket my cell and walk downstairs to the bakery. Today, my landlord stands behind the counter in a purple apron.

“Hey pretty lady.” Erik grabs a plate. “Let me guess. You look like you need one of my famous bear claws.”

“That’s exactly right. You are amazing.”

“No charge.” He hands me the pastry. “Let me get you a coffee.”

“Yes, please. Listen. I have something really awkward to ask.”

“Go for it. Awkward is my specialty.”

“If I can find someone to take over my apartment, can I break my lease early?” I take the coffee mug from him.

He frowns and comes around the counter to my side. “Let’s sit.”

The place is empty since the early morning crowd has already been by for their breakfast. There’s a spot in the front near the windows where I set up my breakfast and settle in.

Erik sits back and crosses his legs at the ankles. “Why do you want to move? Is the rent too much?”

“Well, no. I just…” I stare out the window. “The truth is that Leo and I don’t get along. We had this thing and now we don’t.”

“And you hate him.”

“No.” I give Erik an exasperated look. “I wish I did. Then I could probably be okay living next door. But please don’t tell him that.”

“If you have to move, I understand. You can break the lease early. But we like renting to you. Don’t do anything drastic. Sometimes, these things blow over.”

After everything that’s happened, I can’t imagine not feeling something when I see him. Seeing him at Dastardly’s is one thing. I can fake it and pretend he’s any customer off the street. We don’t have to be personal.

But some days when I stand in the hallway, I gaze at his door in hopes that he’ll open it and say he’s sorry. I want him to drag me inside and make me take a chance.

It’s never going to happen. He changes his mind too much and he’s too scared. I can’t be brave for both of us.

Erik reaches across and lays his hand on mine. “I respect and understand whatever you need. James and I can always find another renter.”

He rises and returns to the counter, throwing a sweet smile my way whenever I glance up.

My cell rings and I check the display. It’s Grandma Lulu. She’s a regular caller and I enjoy our chats, even though it’s sometimes difficult to follow along with her.

“Harper?”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“You’re my guest at the senior citizens breakfast on Sunday morning. Be there or be square. Wear something cute. Do you have a mini-dress?”

A grin splits my face at her statement. “Oh, all right. I guess I can. And no, I do not have a mini-dress. Are you saying I need to dress up? Is there a service?”

“Yes. There’s a pastor who comes and does a very brief sermon. I don’t think I could stand anything more. But wear something short and fun. I need to remember what it’s like to be young and thin. You can shake it up.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” I smirk. Daddy would like Grandma Lulu in his congregation, even if she’s demanding I show some skin.

After I end the call, I sit and drink more coffee. It’s going to be time soon for me to get the next step of my life back together. Maybe Grandma Lulu and Josie would take a road trip to Texas with me.

It’s time for the prodigal daughter to return home for a visit.

I’m whistling an old tune, Guns and Roses’ Welcome to the Jungle, as I walk up the outside stairs of the building.

I open the door and Leo walks out of his apartment and into the hallway. He points. “You.” His mouth sets in a straight line, reminding me of a teacher catching a kid without a hall pass.

“What about me?” My heart beats faster.

“Do you know where my laptop is?”

“Why would I?” I’m alarmed by his tone, his body language, his accusing gaze.

“It’s missing.”

“Maybe you left it somewhere.” This is a stupid comment. He has a laptop, but I’ve never actually seen him take it with him outside his apartment. It always sets in one place—that massive desk.

“No. I didn’t.” He turns away from me for a minute.

I’m unable to move a muscle. Blood is rushing in my ears and I cannot breathe. “Are you accusing me of something?”

He turns back to me and stares. “No.”

It’s all he says. One word. He doesn’t say that I’m not a thief because he thinks I am. And well, I did take a postcard. My postcard.

“Why would I want it?” I shouldn’t need to defend myself, but he’s lying when he says he believes me innocent.

“The postcard files.”

“What are you talking about? I shredded that card.”

He leans his shoulders back against the wall. “Sorry. I’m going to have to report a theft. If…”

“I did not steal your laptop.”

He turns to walk back to his door. “Sure. OK. You didn’t even know I had the scan of the postcard.”

“Stop. I did not steal a laptop. Are you kidding me? Scan? You have electronic images and you didn’t tell me?”

He doesn’t turn around which tells me he’s thinking about my statement. Leo shakes his head and says, “I need to make a call. Forget it, Harper.” Then he takes a step to his door.

I panic. “Don’t walk away. We are talking—”

He ignores me and places his hand on his doorknob.

“Do not open that door.”

He turns the knob without even slowing.

The fact that he’s not listening to me burns me like a hot skillet. I should matter to him. My legs propel me forward and I jump him from behind. I jump like I’m shooting hoops—which I’ve never done but imagined—and straddle his back, hooking my arms around his neck and feet around his waist.

Leo wobbles from the unexpected impact and then we are both going down. In slow motion, my brain registers the wood floor coming up to meet us. I don’t have the reflexes nor time to react and let go.

Leo takes the brunt of the fall, going down with both hands slapping against the floor as he crouches with me on his back like a spider monkey. He loses his balance and goes to both knees with his hands on the floor.

“Get off! Trying to fucking break my legs.”

I fall off his back and lower myself to the floor. He sits and then rolls back to look at the ceiling.

We lie side by side.

“What did you think you were doing?” he mutters in a dazed voice.

“Stopping you from walking away. Why couldn’t you listen to me for a second? Who were you going to call?”

“I told you. The police. Is that why you stopped me? If you have the damned laptop, tell me. I won’t file a report. Just give it back.”

I smack him flat on the chest. “Oh. My. Gosh. I did not steal your laptop. I knew you were accusing me.”

“No. I’m not. You said you don’t have it. Do you think I’d really turn you in to the police?

I shrug. “Maybe. How would I know? You aren’t speaking to me.”

“I thought you were still mad that I hit that guy.”

“I am mad. But not crazy enough to steal your laptop to get back at you.”

He snickers loud enough for me to hear. “Whatever you say.”

“Did someone break-in?”

He turns his head to look at me. “Nope. And it’s the only thing gone. I can buy another computer, but there’s private stuff on there.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you have sex tapes.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and my heart clunks to a stop. I don’t want to imagine he’s filmed himself with me, but even that vision is better than him filming another girl.

“Of course not,” he says.

I sigh, relief rolling over my entire body.

I sit up on one elbow. Leo’s silky hair falls over his eyes and I’d pay a hundred bucks I don’t possess to run my fingers through it. I bite the inside of my mouth to distract me from the instinct to reach forward.

“I do the Mr. Expose blog with the understanding that some details will never be revealed. Plus, I don’t want to be associated with it forever. Do you think I’ll be taken seriously as a writer if people only think of me as Mr. Expose? It was only supposed to be something to make money until I’m able to sell my manuscripts.”

“Oh. I’ve always taken you seriously.” I glance over at him.

“You haven’t even read my writing.” He turns his head and grins at me.

“Because you won’t let me.” I roll my eyes. “Speaking of the blog…I need the scan of my postcard.”

“Why? Tell me what your obsession is with it.”

“I object to you calling it an obsession.”

He sighs, a low rumble that makes me smile, despite what’s happened in the past minutes. “Please tell me about the postcard.”

My belly whirls, making my skin tingle from the adrenaline. I brace myself for the leap of faith that he’ll protect my secrets.

“If you printed the postcard, Wesley’s daughter would find out the truth—that her father was a polygamist. I’ve suffered because of his lies, but I don’t want to cause her more unhappiness. It’s not right. If you printed the postcard, it would be news.”

“I wouldn’t have printed it. You only had to ask.” He gets to his feet and gives me a hand up. The contact of his warm hand holding mine—if only for one instant—sends tingles along my body.

“I did ask. Remember? And then I decided to take it if you wouldn’t hand it over to me. That was wrong, and I’m sorry.” I take two steps to my door and put my key in the lock. “You don’t know how someone got in to your apartment?” I turn to look at his face.

“Maybe I left it unlocked. I don’t know.”

I bite my lip and the bullet of shame. “It could’ve been locked. You still have the key under your mat?”

He throws me a sharp look. “I don’t know. I used to hide one there a long time ago.”

“Check it. That’s how I got in when I looked for my postcard one day. Let me know if I can help look for your laptop.”

With this confession, I let myself in and don’t look back. New, honest beginnings.