Crazy Joe
By Ofelia Gränd
()
About this ebook
Jonas Raghnall has everything he needs -- good friends and a job he loves. He's worked hard to get over what happened sixteen years ago, but one run-in with his past and all the memories come flooding back. Seeing Abe Cooper, The Abe Cooper, sets everything out of balance.
Abe had pictured a fresh start with no ties to his past, but now that Jonas is there, he wants nothing more than to be close to the man who had butterflies filling his belly when he was in high school. Jonas doesn't want to come face to face with his past, but if he sees Abe every day, it's not really meeting up with your past, is it? It's more like a date with your future.
Ofelia Gränd
Ofelia Gränd is Swedish, which often shines through in her stories. She likes to write about everyday people ending up in not-so-everyday situations, and hopefully also getting out of them. She writes contemporary, paranormal, romance, horror, Sci-Fi and whatever else catches her fancy.Her books are written for readers who want to take a break from their everyday life for an hour or two.When Ofelia manages to tear herself from the screen and sneak away from husband and children, she likes to take walks in the woods...if she’s lucky she finds her way back home again.Subscribe to Ofelia's Mailing List!https://subscribepage.io/68FxpG
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Book preview
Crazy Joe - Ofelia Gränd
8
Chapter 1
Jonas Raghnall shook off his jacket and held it over his head as he jogged from his two-room apartment to the grocery store across the street. The smell of spring rain followed him through the door, making him smile. The drops hit the ground so hard it looked like they jumped back up again.
Inside, he shook out his jacket before he put it on and waved at Megan by the checkout, then hurried in past the automatic gates. The jacket fabric was damp against his skin and the floor a little slippery under the soles of his neon-colored sneakers. He’d been tempted to buy the pink glittery ones, but while he didn’t have large feet for a man, he would’ve had to make a special order. He sighed. If only women’s feet could’ve been a little bigger, just a little. It was probably a good thing they weren’t, though. He was an adult now, and while he refused to fully follow the norm, his days of pink glitter shoes were over. Not having the option of impulse buying them made it easier to ensure his days of glitter shoes truly were over.
Sighing again, he focused on his shopping. He only needed milk…and maybe some chocolate. Yes, chocolate. His mouth watered—coffee, chocolate, and dry clothes. It was all a man needed to be happy.
Glitter didn’t make the list…not when he stuck to the short list.
Grinning—since he’d soon have everything he needed to be happy—he zigzagged past the few late-night shoppers strolling down the aisles, grabbed the milk, and turned toward the checkout.
Tomorrow was Monday, his favorite day of the week. To be honest, he liked all the days of the week, but since Mondays had such a bad reputation, he figured they needed some extra love.
If you were to trust statistics, Mondays were bad—most heart attacks and suicides happened on Mondays. But since he didn’t plan on doing away with himself or have a heart attack, there was no reason to mope on a Sunday night.
Excuse me. Do you know where I can find coconut milk?
The air froze in Jonas’ lungs. As panic exploded in his mind, he dived behind the flour shelf. The milk carton hit the gray speckled floor tile. One of the bottom corners was dented, and a drop of milk slowly bled out on the floor. Damn it!
Picking up the carton, he held his breath and listened to Mrs. Moor telling Abe Cooper—the Abe Cooper—to look on the ethnic shelf.
Maybe it wasn’t Abe Cooper.
It couldn’t be Abe Cooper.
Why would Abe Cooper be in Northfield? He wouldn’t be. He’d be in Whiteport, happily married to some woman who’d been part of the cheerleading squad in high school. They’d have two children, a pristine white home, and maybe a dog if it didn’t shed too much hair. And it was good. It was how it should be.
The churning in his stomach was an illusion. Jonas was perfectly fine with Abe and his wife, happy for them even.
He could’ve sworn he’d recognize Abe’s voice everywhere, but he’d been wrong because Abe Cooper couldn’t be here. Northfield was Jonas’ home, and there were no Abe Coopers in his town.
Slowly, he tiptoed closer to the voices and tried to get a glimpse of the man who sounded like Abe Cooper but couldn’t be. One step led to another, and another. He craned his neck and tried to see around the corner of the shelf without being seen.
Mrs. Moor walked away and Jonas flattened himself against the wall of wheat flour, the edges of the shelves digging into his back.
Crazy Joe? Erm…I mean, Joe?
Jonas stared. Yup, Abe Cooper was in his grocery store. He was as tall as Jonas remembered. The shoulders fit him better these days, and the beard was new. At eighteen, he’d been clean-shaven. His eyes were the same and they still had the ability to burn trails along his skin.
It’s Jonas.
Jonas cleared his throat, straightened his back, and resisted the urge to run a hand through his unruly hair. Abe’s intense gaze ran over his face as if making an inventory of how he’d changed since they’d last seen each other. It had been sixteen years, so there were bound to be some changes.
Jonas bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. He refused to think of that day—that day was long gone, and it would stay buried for the rest of Jonas’ existence. That was the plan, had been the plan since the first Monday of his new life.
Is it? I’m pretty sure it’s Joe.
Jonas raised an eyebrow. "It’s Jonas, has always been Jonas, will most likely always be Jonas. And I’m pretty sure, since I’m Jonas."
Are you sure? I mean, of course, you’re sure, but you know everyone called you Cra—Joe, right?
Abe scratched his beard. A beard—it looked good on him, so Jonas averted his eyes.
Well, everyone called you Abe and I’m sure your given name is Abraham or something.
No, it’s Abe, actually.
Of course it was. Abe Cooper, so much cooler than