“Anyway,” Alexis sighed with a stretch. “She said she was going to take this up with the city, and then she stormed out.”
“What the hell does she think the city is going to do? Change parking ordinances? You’re not breaking any laws.”
“I’m a dirty slut, remember? That’s the only law she cares about.”
Noah stiffened. “She said that?”
Alexis brushed a curl off her face. “Not in so many words. But her meaning was clear. We’re just a bunch of lying harlots.”
Noah scowled. “I hate it when you say shit like that.”
“Just repeating what everyone else is thinking.”
“No one decent thinks that.”
“I think you overestimate human nature.”
Noah snorted. “I’ve definitely never been accused of that before.”
Five years in the hacktivist community had left him with little hope for humanity. But she was also right. The months following the Royce incident had introduced him to a depth of human depravity he hadn’t known existed. His blood boiled just remembering some of the voice mails and emails Alexis had received from Royce’s fans. Even with a dozen credible accusations against him, his most rabid fans still refused to believe that their precious hero would do anything wrong. The women must have been lying. They were just disgruntled former employees or spurned lovers.
Noah had helped Alexis set up a new email filtering system that blocked the worst of the messages, but he knew she still received some of them. She had gotten good at just deleting them, but sometimes she still shared the most egregious with him. She’d shrug and say she was used to it, but Noah could read her body language like a favorite book. Her lips would flatten, and she’d have to swallow before talking. It bothered her. A lot. But anytime he suggested she do more to fight back, she would say it wasn’t worth the time or effort. Her life was about finding peace now.
Noah felt her gaze on him and glanced over. “What’s up?”
“Huh?”
“You’re staring at me. Do I have something on my face?”
“Yeah, this,” she said, reaching over to scratch his beard. “What do you look like under all that scruff anyway?”
He waggled his eyebrows. “You don’t want to know.”
“Wow. That bad, huh?”
“No. That good. I have to scruff myself up, because the level of male beauty under all this is more than mere mortals can handle.”
“So it’s a public service.”
“Absolutely.”
Alexis swallowed another bite. “Is Zoe going to be there tomorrow?”
They were going to his mom’s house for dinner to celebrate his birthday. His sister was supposed to be there, but . . . He shrugged. “Who knows? It’s Zoe. She does what she wants.”
“Marsh?” Alexis asked casually.
“He’ll be there too.”
She offered him a sympathetic smile, because she knew there was nothing else to be said. His relationship with his father’s old army friend, Pete Marshall—or Marsh, as everyone called him—was complicated. Noah wouldn’t be where he was today without Marsh’s help and guidance, but his support came with strings attached. The kind that were a constant reminder that Noah would never be the man his father once was.
Noah stood and raised his arms in a stretch with a loud yawn. “Need any help cleaning up after yoga tonight?”
One of the many things Alexis did for the women who came to her café seeking help and support was a monthly yoga class designed just for survivors of sexual violence. The class was tonight.
“I think Jessica and I can handle it, but thanks.”
“Damn. I was hoping to have an excuse for getting out of going to Colton’s.”
“Why?”
“He opened another phishing email and screwed up his entire system.”
Alexis laughed sympathetically. “Want to start the LEGOs tomorrow night after we get back from your mom’s?”
“Hell yes.” He held out his pinkie finger for her to grasp. It was their own secret handshake. “See you then,” he said, turning to leave.
“Hey,” she said behind him.
He turned around.
“Ask your mom what I should bring for dinner tomorrow.”
He walked backward as he spoke. “You know what she’ll say.”
“‘Just yourselves.’”
He grinned.
“See you tomorrow,” she said.
And the clock in his brain immediately started counting down the minutes until then.
CHAPTER FOUR
“We’re going to run out of space soon,” Jessica said, tugging her hair into a ponytail several hours later.
They stood by the counter to survey the room. Tables and chairs had been pushed to the side and stacked to make room for yoga mats and—if everyone who’d RSVP’d showed up tonight—the nearly twenty women looking to reclaim their lives through the power of mindful movement.
“Maybe we should start looking for another place to host the class?” Jessica suggested.
Alexis nodded absently, because she didn’t want to commit to that, if for no other reason than to not give Karen the satisfaction of thinking she’d driven the class and the survivors away.
“We’ll figure something out,” Alexis finally said, crossing the room to hang a sign on the door that read CLOSED FOR PRIVATE EVENT. She shoved a wedge under the door, though, so women could still get in. She’d taken Beefcake home earlier, because two of the class regulars were allergic to cats.
The instructor, Mariana Mendoza, arrived first. She greeted Alexis and Jessica with breezy air-kisses followed by fist bumps. The class had actually been Mariana’s idea. She’d approached Alexis at the café several months ago, and Alexis was sold immediately. Mariana was a licensed counselor as well as a certified yoga instructor. The concept she proposed wasn’t a new one; survivors had been using yoga to reclaim their lives and their bodies for a long time. But there wasn’t anything like it yet in Nashville, and Alexis knew she had to be the one to host the first.
Their initial class four months ago had just three participants, including Alexis and Jessica. But once
