Page 32 of Nocturnes & Nightmares

“I understand. You, um … mentioned that earlier.” His comment draws my mind to a vague conversation from earlier, and I rub my temples, my sudden embarrassment only adding to the warm flush of my cheeks.

He stops the vehicle at the entrance of the bar and waits. “Where to?”

“Newland Avenue. Know where that is?”

“I think so. I suppose, if I get lost, that’s what GPS is for, right?”

I chuckle at that, setting my attention on the passing buildings, as he drives us toward my house. “Thanks for what you did back there. Harv is such a dick.”

“He really is. But don’t tell Bethany I said that.”

“He makes my skin crawl. Guys like that are just …”

“It infuriates me to see a man treat a woman so … poorly. My mother suffered abuse from my father when I was a child. It’s a … sensitive topic for me.”

“My mother ignored my father. He did everything for her.” It’s the alcohol talking, because no way in hell I’d have admitted that aloud, otherwise. “I’m sorry, my mind is on autopilot right now.”

“It’s okay. I don’t judge anyone.”

“You’re a nice guy, you know that? Don’t ever change, because … there just aren’t enough nice men in the world, anymore.”

“I don’t plan on changing anytime soon.”

Rubbing my forehead, I mentally tamp down the urge to cry over what happened in the alley, but the note pops into my head again, stirring anger, instead. “Harv … he left a note on my car. Said … would you rather be strangled, or raped?”

“Did you report it?”

“I should’ve, but not yet. I wanted to give him a chance to confess to it.”

“Did he?”

“Of course not. Just like he was only playin’ back in the alley.”

“Somebody needs to set him straight. To show him how to treat a woman.”

I huff staring down at my hands, folded in my lap. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Do you have a thing for Bethany?”

“Bethany? No. Uh … she’s married.”

“If you call it that. I mean, most married couples I know have vows.”

Hands set at ten and two on the steering wheel, he shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t mess with married women. It’s not right.”

“My house is the one on the right, ahead,” I say, pointing through the windshield. “Well, if you ever decide to get married, you’re going to make one hell of a husband.” Patting him on the shoulder, I wait until he brings the car to a stop at the curb and set my hand on the door.

“I appreciate that. Would you like me to walk you to the door?”

“No, I got it from here. Thanks for the ride, Simon.”

Lips tight, he gives a nod. “Anytime. Take care.”

I exit the vehicle, proud of myself for being an adult and trusting someone to drive me home, when I sure as hell wouldn’t have done such a hot job myself. Stumbling up to the front door, I turn to see he’s still waiting at the curb, and it’s only when I take a step inside the house that I see the car roll forward. With a wave, I close him out and peek through the peephole to see his car driving off down the street.

Well, that was … nice.