Last Chance Hero. Melinda Di Lorenzo

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       Chapter 1

      As the bus wheezed around the second-to-last corner before her stop in her hometown of Ellisberg, Oregon, Jordynn Flannigan’s phone buzzed to life in her pocket. She yanked it out and stared down at the flashing screen.

      New Message from: Sasha.

      She checked the time.

      4:17 a.m.

      Jordynn swiped her finger across the screen, wondering what her best friend could possibly want at this time of the morning. If it could even be called morning yet. Outside, the streetlights still glowed, and just a minute or so earlier, she’d seen a flash of the nearly full moon, as well. You up? Sasha had texted.

      I am. But I have a good excuse. What about you?

      Don’t ask. Incident with a crayon up the nose. My fave four-year-old was sleep coloring or something. Thought I’d check in. You okay?

      Jordynn’s fingers were quick to reply. She smiled as she pictured her friend’s son.

      Sounds like a typical night in your house. And I’m fine.

      The response came almost instantaneously.

      You sure? Uncle Reed said you refused to let him give you a ride home earlier. Sane people avoid the bus.

      She smiled again. Sasha’s uncle Reed, who had been her friend’s guardian since they were teens, also owned the private care facility where Jordynn worked. He often went above and beyond in the role. In fact, with her own parents gone—her dad before she was born and her mom just two years earlier—everyone in Sasha’s family kind of filled the void. Her two kids were like a niece and nephew, her husband like the brother Jordynn never had, and her uncle definitely saw himself as a surrogate parent. Sasha took it as meddling, but Jordynn didn’t mind the support.

      Tell Reed I’m fine. I just worked a few extra hours tonight.

      Uh-uh. No way. I’m not going to be the one to break his heart by telling him you’re trying hard to exhaust yourself.

      At that, Jordynn laughed. It was true that Reed coddled her a little at work, but she could hardly feel any resentment. And in spite of his preferential treatment, she never took advantage.

      It’s nice that he cares. Too bad none of his sweetness got passed down to you.

      If you could see me, you’d know I’m rolling my eyes. Hard.

      If it makes you feel any better, I’ve got the rest of the weekend off.

      I’d kill for a weekend off. But...you know...kids.

      There was the briefest pause, then another text came through.

      You sure you’re okay?

      Jordynn tapped the side of the phone for a second, thinking about what to say. She knew why her friend was asking. The date had glared at her all day from the tear-away calendar on the nurses’ station at work.

      After a moment, though, she sighed and wrote,

      Totally fine. Really. I’m just going to go home, go to bed, and not get up for at least ten hours.

      There was a delay in Sasha’s reply, and she wondered if her friend was thinking about calling her out for her brush-off. But when the answer finally came, it was a five-word acceptance instead of a demand for her true feelings.

      All right. Good night, BFF.

      Jordynn tucked her phone back into her pocket as the bus lumbered to a halt.

      Truthfully, she’d spent her shift alternating between being short-tempered and ready to tear up at any given moment. But she’d promised herself she’d get through it. And she had. She’d gone the full twenty-four hours without actually crying, and without letting the ache in her chest overwhelm her.

      She supposed that was probably why she felt so tense now. The lack of emotional release, coupled with the utter exhaustion brought on by three hours of overtime tacked on to an already twelve-hour shift—almost all of it on her feet—was definitely a recipe for a bad state of mind. She was so much more than ready for her own split-level house. For her hideous, bunny-eared slippers and her cushy, oversize robe. She doubted she’d ever been so glad for a week to be over.

      Still, she couldn’t quite shake a strange sense of worry at the thought of walking the two and a half blocks from the stop to her two-bedroom rancher.

      Don’t let it win, she ordered silently.

      She refused to give in to the melancholy and let herself think about the past. To wallow in the things she couldn’t change. Not even today, on the tenth anniversary of the day her life had become forever altered.

      But as she pushed open the hydraulic doors and stepped into the chilly predawn air, her unease grew stronger. She pulled her thin coat a little tighter across her chest and glanced around quickly. The streets were empty, as was to be expected at this time of night. The neighborhood wouldn’t wake for an hour or more, and for now, the houses sat still, dark and quiet. Nothing unusual. Nothing to make her fingers shake the way they were.

      Jordynn increased her pace anyway. And as her feet hit the ground, the bad feeling increased with a vengeance. It was compounded by the fact that the ring—the one she kept on a long chain around her neck—felt suddenly heavy. And the way it pressed into her sternum under her scrubs made the pressure in her chest that much more stifling. Cooler than her skin and far more unyielding, too. And when a single streetlight directly above her head flickered off, bathing her in momentary darkness, she almost turned to ran back and try to flag down the bus again.

      You’ll feel better when you get home, she told herself.

      But oddly, the closer she got to her house, the worse she felt. By the time she’d crossed the first two blocks, her heart had started to race with worry. And when she hit the end of her own block and put her driveway in view, her feet didn’t want to move another step. With a dry mouth, she pushed one shoe forward. Then the other. She made it to the very edge of the stone steps that led from the lawn to her front patio. And the next few steps wouldn’t come. Because Jordynn spotted a true reason to be concerned.

      The light on her porch—the one she always left on—was gone. Not turned off. Not burned out. Gone completely. The bulb and the vintage case that gave it the unmistakable orange hue were both missing.

      Her eyes flicked СКАЧАТЬ