Novels by Serena Harry

For three days straight, Devon worked like his life depended on it, maybe it does, but he was also trying to put behind him the thoughts of the people that caused him pain. And he was actively waiting and hoping Hector had something for him, but whether or not he did, he was seeing Miguel today, soon actually, because his shift was almost over. He needed to tell him he was leaving. He owed him that much. Clearing his throat, he closed the bonnet of the car he had just finished working on, and was walking towards Miguel’s office when he heard someone called him. “Dev?” Without turning, he knew who that was, and he wanted to pass out. What in the world was she doing here? He thought as he stood mid-step, praying to God it was just his ears playing tricks on him. “Dev, is that you?” she asked, and he turned slowly, making sure to put in place the usual mask he always had on. It was true that his chest was burning, and bile had risen up to his throat, but he sure made sure to

“Are you seriously going to leave town because of the people that don’t care about you?” Hector asked, sitting on the worn couch in Devon’s room. “What else could I do. I feel like I’m going to suffocate if I hear one more thing about them, and seeing how they live while I live like this?” he shook his head. “It's not enough. I need to get myself out of here and find something better for myself.” Hector knew he was right, but he wasn’t sure he had anything right now. He was going to have to ask around for something better, something that wouldn’t take him far but also wouldn’t keep him here, and good enough to pay better than what he was already earning. Sighing, he nodded his head. “Fine, but you need to give me a few days.” Devon raised his head to look at him, a small frown creasing his forehead. “Why?” he asked. “I don’t know,” Hector shrugged. “So I can find something for you.” He said. The corner of Devon’s mouth lifted in a small smile. “You don’t have to do that. I

It’s been two weeks since his release, but it was still the nightmare from that night that always woke him up, like clockwork. Devon was drenched in sweat by the time he woke up. Groaning, he pushed up into a sitting position from the worn bed. He wondered how much longer before it gave up under his weight, his thoughts shifting to his dream, and then to the day he saw those people. Thank goodness they didn't come by to the shop after that, or he would have run off. Pushing Ethan out of his mind, his thoughts strayed to Diana. Dee had changed a lot from what he last remembered.He sat there for a long time, elbows on his knees, head bowed, trying to catch his breath as the remnants of the dream thinned and faded. The dim morning light crept through the thin curtains, brushing over the cracked walls and the small table cluttered with empty water bottles and a half-eaten sandwich.He dragged a hand over his face, still damp with sweat, and exhaled. It had been two weeks since he

All he saw was red throughout the day, and he wanted to punch something, but up until now, he was able to reel in his emotions, because the last thing he wanted to do was screw up this for himself, this job he was grateful for. Before Hector left the prison, and promised to find him a job, he had doubted he would ever get a job at all. He was an ex-convict, whether or not he liked it, or what made him that was his fault.He had no college degree; he didn’t even finish high school. But thankfully, during his sentence, he had been able to earn his GED and complete a certification in automotive repair. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get him through the door; enough to make him feel like maybe he still had a chance to start over.He had spent years under fluorescent lights fixing broken engines just to survive, now, doing it for a paycheck felt almost like redemption. Almost.Still, seeing them again; the Curtises, had ripped open wounds he thought had scarred over. Every time

Jogging this early was normal for Devon, what wasn’t normal was the open space around him. No walls closing in, or any echo of footsteps bouncing off concrete. Just clean, cool air that burned his lungs in the best way.The ground beneath his shoes wasn’t polished cement but damp earth and gravel, the crunch of it strange and freeing all at once. For twelve years, his runs had been measured in laps around a cell block; fifty steps one way, fifty back. Now, every stride felt like a small rebellion.He slowed near the end of the street, hands on his knees, drawing in deep breaths.Five minutes later, he was back in his apartment, taking a shower. He wanted to get to the shop early to make a good impression. That had been one of the reasons the guards back at the prison liked him, the fact that he was always giving good impressions about himself. He got dressed and started downstairs after locking the door, and when he got out front, Hector was already waiting. “Hey, Devon.”“Hey

Twelve Years LaterThe gates opened with a groan, the kind that sounded like they didn’t want to let go and Devon stepped out of the place that had held him for so long. He had a duffel bag in one hand and twelve lost years behind him. The sky looked different now, brighter, maybe, or maybe it was just that he hadn’t seen it without bars or outside the four walls of a prison in so long.“You good, kid?” the guard asked behind him.Devon nodded once, though good wasn’t even close to describing how he was feeling. The man waiting by the old pickup truck waved. Hector. Devon had met him in prison but he had been released eight months before him, which was why he was able to come pick him up.Hector waved again, his weathered face breaking into a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.“Damn, man. You look the same, just a lot older,” he said, clapping Devon on the shoulder.“Thanks man,” Devon managed a faint smile. “I guess that’s what twelve years does to a person.” “Yeah,” H