Page 21 of Dirty Fighter

I nod. This is it.

So where’s the relief?

I know what he’s going to tell me. Marsha’s a snake and a liar, and this cabin is mine.

And when he does, that’s it.

Rowan’s going to leave.

She’s going to go back to the life that I have no part of and no one will ever fill me in on again.

She pushes a soft wave from her face, her eyes moving from the phone to me.

Right.

I answer. “This is Jason.”

8

Rowan

I’m ready. This is going to be hard, but Jason is strong and he’ll get through it. He’ll be angry. Angrier maybe than he was last night. But he’ll be okay.

“Hey, Lenard… Oh, sorry. I thought you were⁠—”

His face goes flat. He swallows, takes a slow breath.

Then, “There’s no way to get a hold of him before Monday?”

The answer is there in the eyes that meet mine. No.

Jason starts asking if anyone else can help him.

I step off the porch, mouthing that I’m going to take a walk.

He gives me a tight nod as he begins leaving a message.

So this isn’t getting resolved this morning, and unless this guy happens to check in… Jason’s going to be here through the weekend.

Oh.

My.

God.

We need that locksmith STAT!

Also, we both probably need a minute to regroup. But more than that, I need to make a call of my own.

Pulling up the favorite of all my favorite contacts, I wait as the staticky, intermittent ringing cuts in and out. I check the screen to make sure I’m still connected with my single wavering bar. But then⁠—

“Baby girl!” comes the voice I need to hear more than any other. I take a breath and smile in relief as Jill Moyo squeals through the miles. “I knew I was going to hear from you today! How’s the island? Did you check the ‘Love Letter’ mailbox?” She gasps. “Tell me there was a letter tucked in the very back. Oooh pleeeeassse! Some ancient love letter left generations ago by the surviving partner of a love so powerful it defied even death… aggghhgh! What did it say?!”

Jill and I met three years ago when I moved to Portland with Ron. She worked at the same hospital we did and lived less than two blocks from our apartment. And while Ron worked as an ER doctor with constantly shifting hours, Jill and I had non-clinical positions with matching schedules and matching commutes.

For most of my life, friendships have been hard for me to make and harder for me to keep… Jill stuck. And I love her for it.

“You know I checked it first thing.” That mailbox, on an island that doesn’t receive mail, has been my obsession since Ed first told me about the romantic gesture from his grandfather to his grandmother. “Sadly, there weren’t any long-lost love notes stuck inside. But it was beautiful. I promise to take a picture for you. But, Jill, I’m not sure how long this connection is going to last and⁠—”