him as a fair man, even when the cards had been stacked against Nick. Time had taken some of the sharpness from the sheriff's features, his brows were bushier, his mid-section a little softer. Streaks of gray colored his blond hair now, but his face still gave nothing away. He hadn't wanted to arrest Nick today, but the No Contact Order had been clear. Nick didn't know what to think about this sudden freedom, but he wasn't going to ask any questions.
He left the cell, heading for the front of the building where the sheriff had his office.
"I'm going to need your signature on some documents," Sheriff Kincade said from behind him.
Nick nodded. At the counter, the sheriff had him sign a paper that listed the personal items they'd taken from him: his watch, his wallet, his jacket. Nick looked around the office, expecting to see Billy. "She's gone." The sheriff glanced toward the door.
"Who's gone?" Nick signed his name to the form the sheriff slid toward him.
"Clea. She left right after she told Judge Payne what really happened today. She's taking steps to have the No Contact Order withdrawn, said the whole thing was a mistake. Judge Payne has waived the hearing and signed your release."
Nick eyed the sheriff with suspicion. Was it a trick? "Are you telling me that Clea Rose was here? That she's withdrawing the No Contact Order?"
"Yes, sir." The Sheriff put Nick's paperwork in a manila file folder and laid it on his desk. "You're free to go."
"Am I free to come within one hundred feet of Clea or her son?" Nick asked, wanting to make sure he understood what was happening.
"You might not want to do that until she makes it official," the sheriff told him, his bushy brows drawing together. "But remember this, Nick. There are a lot of folks in this town that don't like you and don't want you here. They will look for any excuse to lock you back up. Keep your nose clean, boy. I don't want to have to bring you in again. Next time you might not be so lucky."
"Thanks for the advice, Sheriff," Nick said on his way to the door. He remembered another time when the sheriff had tried to help him, to urge Nick to tell the truth, but Nick hadn't listened. Had Sheriff Kincade been on his side ten years ago? Did it matter? Nick couldn't change the past. He had no idea why Clea had dropped The No Contact Order, but he intended to find out. There had definitely been some tension between her and Boomer at the café. Maybe things weren't as good between them as Clea claimed.
With each step Nick took his heart sped up in anticipation of his freedom and a second chance here in Port Bliss. Outside, he took in a hit of clean air. Clean air was something he couldn't take for granted. He'd always loved the outdoors, but prison life had put him off on fresh air. Life in the prison yard was rough and dangerous. He'd learned to do without the fresh air in order to survive. Now, he savored each breath, each stretch of his leg muscles during his walk down the street to his temporary home.
At the tavern, he took the steps two at a time and let himself into the dank apartment. The stench of cigarette smoke still permeated the air, so he made a beeline for the window and opened it, letting the frosty air into the already cold room.
The curtains to Clea's place were open and he could see her talking to someone, another woman - Mitzi? It had to be, all that black hair. She didn't look like she'd changed much since high school. Mitzi and Clea had stuck together like crazy glue.
Mitzi left his view and a child ran up to Clea.
Nick's heart stopped beating. His son. Johnathan Rose. A tightness spread through Nick's chest and the fresh air froze in his lungs. His son . Damn, he couldn't breathe. John looked so much bigger than he'd imagined. He wasn't a baby any more, but a boy with dark hair like his. Did he have Clea's green eyes, or his blue ones? Did he smile easily? Did he laugh? Did he wonder about his father? How much did the kid know?
Nick leaned
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley