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I find a parking spot on the street, which is usually virtually unheard of. Feels like luck is on my side. Liz and I walk arm in arm like we used to in college. We turn down the street that’s closed off to cars. Huge strands of lights hang over the street and crowds of people bar hop from one bar to the next. We walk the short street and stop at a high-end bar. It’s dark inside, even though the sun is still shining bright outside. We take a seat at the bar and immediately a man sends a drink over to Liz and me.

She smiles at him and I shake my head. “Not even here for five seconds before the vultures start circling.”

Liz and I laugh, and have a great time. A few guys come over to talk with us and the shameless flirting is fun. I limit myself to just the one drink since I’m driving and had a glass of wine earlier. Before I know it, hours have passed and I tell Liz we need to get her back.

“You don’t have to drive me. It’s the opposite direction. I’ll grab an Uber ride since I know you have to get up early,” she says.

“Okay, then walk with me to my car and we’ll have Uber pick you up there.”

We leave the restaurant, no doubt with a bar full of eyes following Liz’s behind as we go and make the short walk to my car, only when we get to the spot where my car once sat it’s gone.

“It was here, right?” I screech at Liz. I’m already panicking and look to Liz to confirm. “Yeah, honey it was.”

“Oh, my God! I think my car was stolen.”

“Shit,” Liz hisses, “I think you’re right.”

“Freaking Cleveland, with your clean streets acting like it’s safe for me to park my car. No, some asshole is always lurking around here to rip you off. I see it every day at work. I should’ve known better.” I’m shouting at the street as I pull out my cell phone and dial 911.

“911. What’s your emergency?” a shrill female voice on the other end asks.

“I’m at Euclid and E 12th St., and my car is gone!”

“Well, are you in a tow-away zone?” she asks.

“No, I’m not in a tow-away zone. Listen, I’m telling you I parked my car here and it’s not here anymore. It’s gone. Someone stole it!” I’m a bit hysterical, but someone stole my car!

“Okay, ma’am. An officer is on the way.”

She takes down my name and contact information and I hang up with her. “Police are on their way. Fucking Shit! I can’t believe this happened. What am I going to do?” I semi-yell at Liz.

“Oh honey, come here.” She pulls me in for a hug.

“What am I going to do, Liz? I need my car.”

“It’s going to be alright. You have insurance, right?” she asks me soothingly.

I nod against her shoulder.

“So what we’re going to do is; we’re going to give the police a report. Hope they catch the fuckwad who took your car and then you’re going to call your insurance. It’s going to be okay,” she soothes me until a squad car shows up.

Two police officers pull up, double parking and step out of their car. The officer who exits the driver side is a tall intimidating black man and the officer in the passenger seat is an average looking guy with blonde hair sticking out of the rim of his hat.

“June?” he questions like he knows me. I stare at the officer trying to figure out if I know him. “It’s Ed. Ed Harrington. I sat behind you in English Lit at Cleveland State.”

I think when I had English Lit, and remember that I was in the beginning stages of pregnancy. I was always running out to pee and, “You took notes for me when I was running to the bathroom every ten minutes!”

He chuckles, “That was me. Went a different route, though. So what happened here?”

“My car was stolen. It was parked right here,” I say pointing to the spot a new car has since parked in.

The police officer who was driving is harder with his posture and gets right to business, “Ma’am, my name is Officer Reynolds. We’ve put out an APB on your vehicle which means the local police will be looking for it. Often times, your car will turn up in a day or two. I suggest you go home and we’ll call you if we have any news.”

Ed hands me his card and writes the case number on it. “Call me if you have any questions or if there is anything I can do for you,” he seems sincere. “It was nice seeing you again June, even if was under these circumstances.”

I shake my head at the ordeal as the police car drives away.

“I’m getting an Uber car for both of us,” Liz tells me and a minute or two later a car pulls up to take me home. I hug Liz goodbye and she makes me promise to call her tomorrow or if I hear anything.

I call Daryn on my way home. It’s almost eleven so I know it’s late and he’s probably asleep. “Hello,” his voice sounds gruff and tired when he answers, “June?” he asks. “Is everything okay?”

“Hey, Daryn, sorry to call so late. I was out with Liz and we were downtown. My car was stolen.”

“Shit, June. are you alright?” his sleepy voice laced with concern.

“No,” I answer and then change that, “Yes. I’m fine. I feel a bit shook up that someone would steal from me, but physically I’m fine. We weren't even in a dodgy part of town. We went to East Fourth Street. That’s like the “It” place. I can’t understand how someone steals a car right where everything is going on.”

“June, that’s terrible. Where are you now?”

“I’m on my way home in an Uber.”

“Shit. Is there anything I can do?”

“Can you take the girls to their game in the morning, while I call insurance and get a rental? I hate to ask because I know you’ve had them all day.”

“Of course, I can. I can’t believe this happened to you.”

“Yeah, you and me both. How were they today?” I ask knowing those two can get chatty.

“I was glad to have Lily. You should see my yard. I finally think my homeowner's association won’t have anything to gripe about.”

I let out a light chuckle. I can’t help it; he’s funny when he’s all sleepy. “Thanks, Daryn. Sorry for waking you,” I sigh.

“No problem, June. Call me if you need anything.” We disconnect and it’s another ten minutes until the car pulls into my drive I lock up the house and quickly go to bed.

I wake up to my cell phone blaring. A quick glance to the clock tells me it’s seven a.m.. I sleepily answer my phone wondering who the heck would be calling me at seven on a Sunday.

“Hello?” I answer.

“June, Ed Harrington. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

I grumble and then lie, “No.”

“Found your car. They caught a couple of seventeen-year-olds using it to run drugs. When they caught on that they we’re being followed they crashed it up pretty good. Took off on foot, but our guys caught ‘em.”

Shit, fuckity, shit. “How bad is the damage?”

“It’s not good. Listen June, normally we have cars involved in stuff like this taken to impound, but seeing as I know you and I don’t want you to have to go through more hurdles than you need to, I’m having them tow it to a buddy of mine’s shop. It’s on 55th and Euclid. Same side of the street as the Agora. You can’t miss it.”

I grab a pen and paper and jot down the name of the shop. “Thanks for helping me out Ed. I really appreciate it. Are they open on Sundays?”

“Technically, they’re not open today, but my buddy said him and a couple of the guys came in to work on this hot-rod.”

“You think I could stop there today to see the damage and get a few things out of the trunk?

“Sure, I don't see why not.”

“Alright, thanks again for your help Ed.”

I disconnect and head downstairs to start a pot of coffee; I think I’m going to need it.

***

By eleven, I am pulling up in front of a large garage with two identical tow trucks that say Stout’s and a phone number. This is the place. I rub my temples. After several hours of phone calls with insurance agents and then my parents, my head is killing me. My rental was delivered an hour ago and here I am.

I swing my purse high on my shoulder and walk through a large gray metal door, even though there’s a closed sign in the window. The air smells like oil and gasoline. There is a reception desk that is empty and a small vinyl couch with outdated magazines covering a small coffee table.

“Hello,” I call out.

“Sorry lady, we’re closed,” A man with a salt and pepper beard and a backward baseball cap says sticking his head in through an open door to the garage bays.

“Oh, I know,” I’m suddenly nervous. “My car was stolen last night and Ed Harrington had it towed here for me. I was hoping I could see the damage and grab a few things from the trunk.”

“Ed’s friend, right?” he says looking me up and down, smiling. I wouldn’t go so far as to say Ed and I were friends, but if they’re helping me out more because they think that, who am I to argue? “Name’s Stout. This is my place. Car’s back here. Did you bring the keys?” he asks.

I reach into my purse and pull the key off of the ring and hand it to him.

“Lead mechanic is looking at it now, but he won’t get a full idea of the damage until tomorrow. You can get a look and grab whatever you need from it now if you want.”

“Thanks,” I say and follow him through the open door into the bay.

Several men are working on a red car that looks like it would be in Fast and Furious. I walk over to my car and my heart sinks. As I approach, I can already see the glass is shattered in the back window. I walk around the driver’s side, and despite a long scratch in the black paint, it doesn't look that bad. I round the front, where the bent hood is propped open and a man is bent over it, his eyes staring down. My front windshield is also cracked as well as a huge indent on the front passenger side. “Shit,” I hiss taking it all in. The mechanic under the hood freezes and very slowly raises his head towards me. He stands. I take him in, as the air leaves my lungs in a huge whoosh.

He’s tall.

Taller.

Tattoos cover his arms. Broad shoulders. Muscular like he frequents a gym. His hair is trimmed short close to his head.

His eyes.

Piercing.

Blue-green.

Watching me.

Just like my daughter’s.

Just like his daughter’s.

Chapter Eleven

I remember a moment like this. One where it felt like the entire universe paused and shifted right under my feet. A moment where a truth changed everything. At this moment, I am altered.

Jake Daniels is standing in front of me.

“No, I can’t believe it,” I say with a fierceness I didn’t know I was capable of.

“Listen, I know there’s some damage, but don't worry we’ll get it fixed,” Stout says in an easy going voice.

My body is locked tight ignoring Stout, my eyes are locked hard on Jake.

“Juniper,” Jake’s voice is soft as he sets down the wrench in his hand and takes a careful step towards me. Careful like he is afraid I’ll bolt, like he sees something in my eyes that he isn’t quite sure of. It’s an emotion he has never seen before on me; straight incomprehensible fury.

“Don’t you dare ‘Juniper’ me. You lost that right you son of a bitch!” I hiss and watch Jake freeze in his step. “You Goddamn motherfucking...” I don’t finish. The anger I feel towards him overwhelms me. I lunge for him and smack him as hard as I can. He’s taller than me by a lot and I have to reach to hit him. I claw and scratch. Kick and punch. I’m so angry.

“Twenty-five minutes from us. You’re twenty-five minutes.” I’m hysterical.

Jake lets me get hits in on him, then says, “Enough.” His voice is darker and deeper than I remember. He scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder as if I weigh nothing.

“Boss, need a few,” he says like I’m not pounding on his back and screaming.

“Put me down, Jake Daniels!”

“Feisty one huh, Jake,” Stout chuckles then says, “take all the time you need.”

Jake walks us up a set of metal stairs and through a door. My world is flipped upside down when he rights me and deposits me on the edge of a desk, then wraps his arms tightly around me, including my arms so that I can’t move.

“Calm down, June,” he says.

I breathe in and out, deep breaths, trying to calm myself. I won’t look at Jake. I can’t. I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll get drawn right back into him. My eyes are trained on a certification award on the wall behind the desk. My body is rigid. I try not to think about the fact that I am in Jake’s arms and his beautiful masculine scent is surrounding me. Instead, I focus on my behavior and try to get it under control. I’ve thought about how I would be if I saw him again, but no way did those thoughts include me going batshit crazy.

I focus on my anger. He pretended to be someone he wasn’t. He left us, without an explanation and broke my heart. He has a daughter that he doesn’t even know about because he wouldn’t read any letters and now he’s out of jail working relatively close to us and he hasn’t even tried to look me up.

Oh, God. Lily. What am I going to do? How can I let him know about her now? He could leave her feeling the way I do. Get her to fall in love with him and then disappear. Is that fair to her? Could she forgive me if she knew? I suck in a lungful of air and demand, “Let me go.”

“You going to hit me again, if I release you?”

I glare at him and my breath catches in my throat seeing as I’m eye to eye with him again. I don’t want to look, but I can’t help it. “I won’t hit you. Let me go,” I demand.

He releases my arms but doesn’t retreat, “Someone stole your car. What kind of shit are you in, June?” he asks directly with little emotion in his voice.

I glare even harder at him.

“Answer me, June,” he growls. Although this is a beefier version of the Jake I knew, something about his tone makes me question that I know him at all. He’s harder, prison must have made him that way. For a second, my anger resolves, thinking about him behind bars for four years.

“That’s the first real thing you're going to ask me? No ‘hey June’? How have you been? Or ‘Hey, I’ve been trying to find you’? Or even better, ‘I lied because…’?’No, you think I’m in some shit? I was out with Liz last night on East Fourth Street and my car was stolen. That’s it. They found it and the cop knew me, so he called in a favor and had it brought here. Now, nice seeing you Jake,” I say with a sneer, “but I think it’s time we end this reunion.”

“No,” he says sternly.

“What does that mean ‘no’?”

“It means,” he grits out, “I’ve stayed away from you for your own good for a long time, and now you walk in here and your car has been stolen and you attack me? It’s been a long time since I let anyone get a hit on me and to have a blow come from you, June, what the fuck?”

I suddenly, feel bad for hitting him. He got enough of that from his dad. How could I be that person? How can I put my hands on the man whose had my heart since I was a girl? My guilt takes over for my anger and all I want to do is retreat and figure out how I feel. This isn’t me. This isn't the woman I want to be. I hate that I just hit him.

“It was a shock seeing you. I shouldn’t have hit you.” It’s not an apology, however my eyes hold nothing but remorse.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” he says breathing hard. “You got insurance on your car?”

I nod my head and feel my body relax, even though my heart's still beating wildly. My head is a whirlwind. I feel my anger recede and replaced by confusion. I stare hard at him and then my chin quivers and my eyes flood with tears. I don’t want them to spill out. I hate that I still carry this pain inside of me.

“Good. You’re a priority. I’ll get your car fixed right away.”

Is that it? Is he just going to fix my car and walk away again? God, this hurts. My chest feels tight and those tears seep out of the corner of my eyes. I don't think I meant anything to him. How can he be so casual? It burns deeply in my soul.

“Shit, baby. Don't cry for me. I don't get your tears. I’m going to fix your car. When I get off work tonight we’ll talk. Yeah?

He wants to talk about car repairs? My world is falling apart and being flipped on its axis and that’s where we are? “I’ll cry for me, then.” I look away, wanting to curl up and pretend the last twenty-four hours hadn’t brought me here.

He grips my chin between his fingers and redirects my eyes to his and wraps his arms around me again; this time in comfort, not to restrain me. He must feel bad for me. This has to be sympathy for the poor, broken woman in front of him. I want to harbor my anger so badly. At least anger is something I can grasp. This helplessness with him in front of me is more than I can handle.

I know I should fight against his embrace. I should push him away, but the way he has always provided me with comfort comes so naturally that my body betrays me by curling into him. The soft fabric of his shirt and the smell of oil and sweat surround me.

I let a few more tears leak out and whisper, “Why?” I hate the sound of it coming out of my lips. I hate that I sound desperate and needy, but I'm angry because he left me for six long years with no answers.

He sucks in a breath and says, “Meet me tonight?” Lily’s been gone for the last day and I’m not so sure I can get a sitter. He must sense see the conflict on my face. “I know you don't owe me your time, but let me explain things to you. I owe you that. I can come to you. Meet you at your house?”

“No, that’s not going to work for me.”

“You got a man at home?” he questions.

“I don’t owe you that either.” I push away from his embrace, stand up and walk towards the door. “I have to get out of here. This is too much.”

“I get seeing me again is a shock. I’ll give you a day to get used to the idea and then we’re talking,” he says as I walk out of the office. I begin to descend the metal stairs when I hear, “June?”

I look back to see what he has to say.

“Don’t hate me” It’s a plea, one he doesn't have to make. I’m angrier than ever, but I could never hate Jake Daniels.