by Lissa Kasey
I thought about that for a few minutes. “Would you be any less invested in what we have right now if you knew I was going to vanish tomorrow?”
“No. But fuck would that hurt. I’m kind of fond of your face, among other things.”
“Same,” I told him. “Now, where are we going first? You said something about a stop before dinner.”
“Freya said there is a shop that sort of inspired Simply Crafty.”
“Mae’s Craft Emporium. I haven’t been there in years. They are pretty old school. Don’t have all the online options we do. But it’s not normal inventory. It’s handmade items and donated supplies. People give up their stash to them. So the fabrics are all out of print. Sometimes you can find a gem in all the florals.”
“Sounds awesome to me. Do you remember how to get there?”
“Vaguely. Did Freya give you the address?”
Alex scrolled to something on his phone. “Yep.”
“Let’s go check out Mae’s then.”
“Is Mae an actual person?” Alex wanted to know.
“She was. Passed over a decade ago. Never met her myself.”
“So this shop might be haunted?”
I gave him the side eye. “Stop looking for ghosts everywhere.”
“Can’t help it. They sort of just appear at random. You knew this from the get-go,” Alex pointed out. “No backing out of my weird now.”
Chapter 16
The craft shop yielded a few gems, including a few old pattern books for quilting that I picked for Alex to browse through. They were hand stitching designs, some very intricate, but Alex was fascinated and wondered if he could do them with a machine. If Mae’s ghost was in the shop, he did not point her out to me. We shopped, then ate enough BBQ that I felt like I could crawl into the backseat and sleep for a week.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat that much,” Alex teased me for the hundredth time.
“It was so good,” I groaned, suddenly sad that Alex couldn’t drive because I could really have used a nap instead of the forty-minute drive.
“It was good.” Alex patted his stomach. “I have a food baby. That’s what they call it right? Or does that only go with alien impregnators.”
“I think it’s a whole separate kink. Pretty sure one I’d fit right now too.”
“I can drive,” Alex volunteered.
“You don’t have a valid driver’s license,” I reminded him.
He let out a long sigh. “I haven’t had an episode in a while.”
“I think you have to be a year from your last one before they let you test. But we can look into it when we get home.” I got into the driver’s seat, put on the belt and waited for Alex to get settled before starting the car. I was not a fan of SUVs normally since it seemed like it was more car than most people needed. However, for this trip, it was proving to be roomy and useful, as we had the back filled with stuff we’d collected at Mae’s.
Once I pointed the vehicle in the direction toward the B&B I was kind of happy to be headed back early. The sky was growing dark already, as it normally did in the winter. Hopefully we’d be back before eight and have an early evening of watching something stupid on my laptop. I planned to finish the binding on the quilt we’d done today, since that would take an hour at most. Alex was usually happy to sit and watch me sew, or read. And now he had a half dozen books on quilting design to look through. Maybe it was the hope of an easy night that cursed us.
“What time does the convention start tomorrow? Are we going early?” Alex asked.
“It opens at nine, and I’d like to be there around that time. I have a few booths in particular in mind, that I want to visit first. But it’s open until five tomorrow for the early crowd.”
“Is the rest of the group going?” Alex wanted to know. I suspected he was worried that Melissa would tag along.
“I don’t think so. None of them are vendors. I had to show some special paperwork to get in,” I told him. “And since you’re technically my employee, that’s how you’re getting in.”
“Ah, I see. Another benefit of sleeping with the boss.”
“I’m not your boss. Lukas is.”
“I call that splitting hairs. Since you do my schedule and complete the accounting software to approve paychecks.”
“But Lukas technically pays you.”
“If that makes you feel better about bossing me around,” Alex teased. “And finger pressing me.”
I laughed. “You’re a perv deep down inside, aren’t you?”
“I think I am,” he admitted. “But only with you. I have to work to not think of doing things with you to keep from getting hard. It’s like you’re my on-switch.”
I got what he was saying, and couldn’t keep the smile off my face. Alex didn’t hold back, and that was okay. He told me things straight up and it helped to keep my anxiety in check. Often I had to remind myself that we were still in the teaching phase. Learning about each other, finding how we fit and where we bumped heads. I loved that I could turn him on without trying. But I admitted I wanted a bit more from our relationship than lust. We were getting there, I think. I hoped.
“So because you’re a vendor and I’m an employee, is that why my ticket cost so much?” Alex changed the subject as he often did when the teasing danced on the edge of foreplay.
“Partially. More because I had to add you right before it started instead of having grabbed an earlier rate. Conventions do that a lot. You buy a year before the event and get admission for a quarter of the door price. But as a vendor my pricing was a bit different than the rest of the group anyway even though I don’t have a table. It’s all about tax IDs and paperwork.”
“Do you have to show stuff at the door then?”
“Our IDs. Everything else is done. We’ll get a special badge for the weekend that proves we are vendors. Gets us into vendor exclusive events and better seats at some of the other stuff. Some of the booths will offer special discounted pricing for us, mostly for networking purposes. And a lot of the young new designers here will be looking to make connections.” I suspected a textile convention was a lot like most other types of product conventions. Big dogs trying to pump up their products, and the little guys trying to get noticed.
“That’s what you’re looking for, right?”
“Yes. Some new fabric lines would be great. But I also am hoping for a few pattern designers too. A lot of the bigger brands demand exclusivity, and I’m not a fan of locking out the market for those starting fresh.”
“So we’ll see fabric and sewing machines, what else?”
“Pattern designers, perhaps even Yaya Han, whom I know the group loves. I think she’s been there before. A lot of products like scissors and cutting machines, maybe even some 3D printing stuff as that’s moving to fabric now. Some of the larger quilt shops across the country will be there. Some YouTube personalities. Freya sometimes sets up a booth. This year I think she’s doing a few classes instead of a full booth. The class and schedule list is saved to my phone.” I pointed out my phone which was plugged into the charger. “A lot of the influencers will skip tomorrow. They are really only here to see fans and gain freebies from the companies trying to find people to push their products. We are not fans, we are industry. Even the hardcore cosplayers in the group, they are more industry than fans, though they might recognize some of the more famous ones.”
Alex seemed to absorb that knowledge. “I’m not sure I understand what an influencer is?”
“An online personality. A character. People create them through social media to represent products or lifestyles through video and pictures. Their only talent is collecting followers. Think Kim Kardashian,” I said.
I directed us to a quieter road, lined with trees per the GPS instructions on my phone. Had we taken this way down? I wasn’t sure I liked driving it the way back. The street lights were few and far between, leaving long stretches of darkness on the two-lane road sandwiched in the middle of heavy woods
.
“Who?” Alex asked.
“Big lips and butt. Pictures of her everywhere. How can you miss that?”
“Oh, I think I know who you’re talking about. Girl with dark hair? Keeps popping out babies for some rapper?”
I laughed. “I guess. Sort of? Oversimplified, but yes, that sounds like her. Her family is pretty big too. They have a clothing line, but were rich before the whole reality TV thing made them infamous.”
“I remember seeing something on TV when I was at Lukas’s. Did you know he has like a bazillion channels? Never seen him sit down and watch TV though. He comes home and falls into bed, then is up at the crack of dawn and out the door. Maybe that was because of me? Invading his space?”
“I think it was the job. Plus, your brother is super serious.”
“Didn’t used to be,” Alex protested. I knew he blamed himself for that. Worried that he’d messed Lukas up somehow and if he’d been able to stay in the Army, Lukas would be fine. I didn’t think that was the case. Alex leaving for the Army and the constant worry, I think that made Lukas who he was. He buried himself in work trying to help others because he worried he’d missed saving his twin. Sky and I had talked about it, but neither of us brought it up to either brother. Some things couldn’t be changed by simple words.
“Life transforms us all,” I reminded Alex. “You’re not the same guy you were before the Army, right?”
He sighed. “I think I still sometimes am. Like I look at him and think, ‘Wow, he’s put together’ and want to be like him.”
“Lukas is not as put together as he likes people to think.”
“No,” Alex agreed. “And I wonder if that’s my fault.”
“As you once told me: You are not the sun, moon, and stars, yeah? You’re not the sole center of the universe. Not even for your brother.” The GPS directed me to turn onto another side road. I really hoped it wasn’t leading us to Timbuktu.
“Wow. That stuck with you.”
I laughed. “Um yeah. You crushed my dreams. Telling me I’m a worthless toad like everyone else.”
“I did not say that.”
“Mhmm,” I teased back. “Sure. Claim the fifth now that you’ve had me in bed. I see how you are.”
Alex huffed. “You found me out. I want you for your body,” he threw back, playing my game. “Oh baby, what you do to me.”
“You’re so bad at this.”
“I’m a bit out of practice at sarcasm. Plus, I do like your body. But I’m kind of into a lot of other stuff about you too.”
“Like?” I prompted.
“Are you fishing?”
“Yes. Needy tonight, I think. Since the police think I murdered some girl I barely know and all that.” I silently wished that the police would find them.
“They don’t,” Alex said. “Well, maybe. Who knows how they think anyway? Shh, let me think.”
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
“Har har. Well, I love how crafty you are. I feel like if we got stuck somewhere you could MacGyver a way out.”
“I don’t know if I’m that crafty. I think you’re the more practical of the two of us.”
“Fine, you’d have ideas that I could MacGyver. At least you didn’t ask who that was and make me feel old,” Alex said.
“My mom was madly in love with him. My dad thought he was stupid, but let her watch the reruns for years, even bought her the boxset of all the seasons a couple years back. But making duct tape lockpicks? Yeah, not my level of craft. What else?”
Alex grinned. “I love your freckles. I know you hate them, but I love them. And your eyes.” He sighed. “Those are physical things so let me think more… I love the way you engage on the kid’s tour. The voices, the animation, the life you give to the stories you tell. I can tell you care, not just about the history of the city, but about those kids.”
“I want them to like history. History is important.”
“Especially with how bad the American education system is with history, but that’s not what I mean. You create a sense of magic around a lot of the things you do. The stories, the art, the creativity, and the passion for the shop. Even those goofy shirts you think up sayings for and design. That’s all part of the magic.”
“I’m not really magic,” I whispered. What would happen when that magic bubble burst and he saw me for who I really was?
“Oh, I know. You’re not magic. And I never said you were. See, people aren’t magic. But only people can create it. Magic is an emotion. A stilling of your breath as you stare at a painting or hear a song that gives you goose bumps. The way you tell stories, the way you craft, those things make people stop and breathe. Sometimes think. The ones who can at least. There will always be those who are brain dead.” Alex smiled and patted my knee. “Don’t discount your magic. Not everyone finds theirs.”
“Yours might be the quilting,” I pointed out, feeling a little teary-eyed suddenly.
“Maybe,” Alex said. “Just know that when I look at you, I see Micah. Who teases me, and makes me smile, who dances with me, and is patient when I ask stupid questions about a world I wasn’t part of for a long time. And who creates magical things to cast away the fear and anxiety and build a new future. I’m thrilled that you let me be a part of it. Whatever this future is you’re building.”
I felt something inside shift, like some wall cracking, or ice chipping away from a part of me I hadn’t realized had been broken. Sometimes Alex really said stuff that blew me away. His magic, I realized in that moment. Not the sewing, or at least not only his new quilting skills, but his ability to see past the façade. Alex wasn’t fooled by masks or pretty words; he saw down to the soul.
“Are you crying? Did I do bad? I’m sorry,” Alex said.
“No,” I sniffled and wiped my eyes with the shoulders of my shirt. “Something in my eye.” Like having a boyfriend who got me.
“Right. Super dusty in this brand-new rental car with the windows shut and air on.”
“Jerk,” I grumbled at him.
“Do you need more praise?”
“Your brother is right, you are an asshole.”
“But your asshole,” Alex agreed. “You can play with it later. Or I can play with yours. Or we can cuddle. I’m good with it all. It’s weird that it’s dark so early.”
“It’s barely after seven,” I pointed out, “not that early. This is normal back home too. It is November.” It wasn’t completely dark yet. An orange glow met the horizon in a narrow band leaving a tiny glimpse of the disappearing daylight.
“Are we taking the scenic route back to the B&B?” Alex asked, staring out at a few passing fields and a lot of trees. The area surrounding the road was heavily wooded. “This isn’t one of those haunted roads is it?”
“Um, I think all roads in Texas are haunted. But no, not scenic route. Just not the highways. I didn’t want to take the long way around. Are you seeing anything weird?” I glanced at him, trying to keep my eyes on the road as this was also deer country. I didn’t need to hit a deer because I wasn’t paying attention.
“A feeling,” Alex said. “Not seeing anything but dark and trees. But anxiety…”
“I don’t feel anything.” Nothing other than normal apprehension for driving on country roads with the oncoming dark. “Keep an eye out for deer or other animals. Cows maybe.” I said as we passed a small field that looked like it could have been a pasture of some kind, then we were back in the trees.
“Cows are not small animals.”
“But common here in Texas.”
“Didn’t know Texas had so many trees,” Alex muttered, his gaze locked on the road and the surrounding area.
“Parts of it,” I said. “The west side of the state is pretty gross. If you drive across to say get to New Mexico or something. Lot of cattle farms. You can smell them for miles. Makes me question eating beef every time I pass.”
“Gross,” Alex said. “Well, not beef. I love beef, but the stink. I can imagine.”
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br /> “No. Most people can’t really get the true ick of it until they get close. Imagine regular cow farm times ten thousand and there you go.” I’d driven that way twice, both for conventions, and would never do it again. Next time if I had to go that far west, I’d fly.
“Totally gross,” Alex said.
Suddenly he gasped, and I reacted by slamming my foot on the brake as a shadow streaked into the road.
The car screeched and lurched to a stop, but didn’t completely stop the collision. A shadow hit the car, not the other way around. Like it had been hurdled from the darkness and into my path, it slammed into the front of the vehicle, making a loud bang from the hood, then fell backward.
I sat gasping for breath, staring into the headlights. Horrified. Had I just hit something?
Alex put the car into park and jumped out while I struggled to process the last thirty seconds of my life. Light illuminated the road and the tip of something laying on the ground which didn’t look like an animal. My stomach flipped over as I realized I could see a head of hair.
I climbed out of the car slowly, filled with terror, and wanting to throw up everything I ate. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck? We were in the middle of nowhere! Not a streetlight as far as I could see, only the headlights illuminating a still form. Alex leaned over it, the body, whatever it was, so I could only partially see. I expected the front of the car or even the road to be covered in blood and gore, only there was nothing. Not even a dent in the hood.
“Call 911,” Alex told me. I didn’t move, still stuck there gaping like a fish out of water. “Micah! He’s alive. Call 911.”
Alex’s command broke through the terror for a moment. I raced back to the car and fumbled for my phone, ripping it out of the charger and carrying it back to Alex even as I dialed. I couldn’t speak anyway. Couldn’t breathe. Stupid panic attack.
Alex took the phone from me as the operator answered, and said a bunch of stuff I couldn’t make out. Something about finding someone in the road. I stared down at the crumpled form. He didn’t look like he’d been hit by a car. Instead he sort of lay there curled up in the fetal position, shivering, breathing roughly, and muttering things that didn’t make any sense. The pale light on his face outlined enough of his features for me to recognize.