Falling for Home

by Jody Holford

  “What the fucking hell?” Davey sputtered, a slur elongating his enunciation. Eddie meandered over, his large stomach peeking between his T-shirt and jeans, crossed his arms over his wide chest, and frowned.

  “He’s been cussing and screaming like that at all my customers. Won’t go home. Won’t settle down,” Eddie drawled out. The music switched to a slow number, and the pool table balls smashed together as if to emphasize the shift in tone. Davey started swearing again, and Alex kicked him with his boot.

  “Shut up,” Alex instructed over the noise. He looked toward Cam and nodded, which brought Cam shuffling closer to pull Davey up by the arms.

  “Get your hands off me, boy! You know who I am?”

  “This here is Davey Morgan, Cam. He’s our town drunk and all-around loser. Davey, this is Cam. He’s our newest deputy and the one who’s going to escort you to our fine establishment back at the sheriff’s office,” Alex introduced, hiding his grin. Hell, maybe he wasn’t being professional, but there were some perks to this part of the job.

  “You okay, ma’am?” Alex asked the wide-eyed blonde watching them, still looking a little frazzled.

  “I told him we should go. I told you we should go, Davey,” she replied, her voice low and breathy. Alex wondered if she was scared of Davey or of ending her night in a cell.

  “Did you come here with Davey?” Alex asked. She nodded. Alex looked back at Davey, who had stopped talking altogether. His ragged, whiskered face made Alex wonder if he looked anywhere near that old. Time had not been a friend to Davey. Correction. Davey has not been a friend to Davey. The man’s plaid shirt was untucked, and his jeans rode low on his thin hips. He was truly the definition of disheveled. His hair looked like it hadn’t been combed in a week and was sticking up at odd angles. Stepping a bit closer, Alex squinted to see what was making Davey’s hair stand up.

  “What the hell is in your hair?” he asked, reaching out. Davey tried to swat Alex’s hand away, but Cam held both his arms strong and steady.

  “You gonna take him out of here?” Eddie interrupted after being called by one of the waitresses.

  “Yeah. Thanks for phoning, Eddie.”

  “No problem, Sheriff. Davey, you know you’re welcome in here when you can behave yourself.”

  With that, Eddie shuffled his large girth back behind the bar, tucking his shoulder-length, curly locks behind his ears before grabbing a glass to pour some beer.

  “What’s in your hair?” Alex asked again.

  “Nothin’ man. How do I know? Shit, can this punk-ass kid let me go now? My arms are fallin’ asleep,” Davey whined.

  Alex looked down at Davey’s date. She was probably a couple of years younger than them, and even in the deceitful glow of the bar lights, Alex could see she was relatively attractive.

  “You can do better. Do you have a ride home?”

  “Yes. I have a friend here. She’s dancing. I’ll see you later, Davey.”

  Muttering under his breath, Davey didn’t say bye as the girl made her way to the other side of the bar where people were crowding the dance floor.

  “Let’s take him in,” Alex said.

  Looks like Cam was going to get taught quite a few things tonight, He took a breath of the fresh, crisp air and felt thankful that he didn’t see the need to spend his nights off in places like The Catfish.

  Alex rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands after he dropped his keys onto the hallway entry table. Shrugging off his jacket, then tossing it on a chair, he toed his shoes off and left them in the middle of the hall. He was tired. Not sleep tired—though he was that, too—but he hated not being able to put all of the pieces together. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and shuffled toward his bedroom. His breath caught as he stepped through the doorway, and every other thing slipped away.

  Lucy lay curled on her side, her hair falling into her face like it was a blanket for her cheek. Her hands were up near her chin, and Furball was nestled against her, curled into Lucy’s stomach, purring loudly. His ears pricked up when Alex gulped in a breath of air. He moved to the other side of the bed and put his water down on the nightstand. Chucking his shirt off, Alex tossed it into the corner, somewhere near his laundry hamper. His pants were thrown in the same direction, leaving his boxers on, and he lay down on the bed. He curled into her, his hand on her hip, and breathed her all the way in until he felt like she was nestled inside of him. He would never be able to get her out. She stirred and Furball stopped purring. Alex moved closer, wanting to just be near her, to feel her breathe in and out, which she did with a shuddery sigh.

  “Hey,” she whispered, turning her head to look up at him in the dark. His eyes had adjusted, but even if they hadn’t, he’d know her face, every line, every crinkle, the way her lips barely moved when she spoke in her sleepy voice.

  “Hi, sleepyhead.”

  He kissed her cheek and felt it move in a smile. She was warm even though she was on top of the covers … or maybe that was him. He felt overheated.

  “I fell asleep.”

  “I noticed. I’m pretty observant like that. Looks like Furball took advantage of you.”

  She laughed quietly, and stroked the cat’s back. Furball gave one meow and, clearly offended at the intrusion, jumped off of the bed. Lucy shifted herself around, almost kneeing him where he really didn’t want to be kneed, and snuggled into him. She ran her hands over his arms as he kissed the tip of her nose.

  Pressing her lips to his bare chest, she asked, “Aren’t you cold?”

  “Nah. I’m good. Were you waiting for me?”

  “Maybe. How was your night?”

  “Long.” He pulled her tighter against him and she straightened her knees. The tip of his nose touched hers, and she continued to slide her hands up and down his body like she was soothing him, or maybe herself. “You okay?”

  “Yes. I spent some time with my sister and Luke today. And Carmen.”

  “They’re a nice little family.”

  “Yes. But I’m worried about them,” she admitted, biting her lip and shifting her face. Her eyes almost glowed in the darkness.

  “Because of Carmen or because of them?”

  “Why would you ask me if it was because of Carmen?” She asked, surprised.

  Her body didn’t stiffen, so he didn’t think she was offended; still, he didn’t want to say the wrong words. He rolled onto his back and pulled her with him so she was lying across his chest. The heat in the house kicked on, making the radiator stutter a few times. It’d be time to turn that off soon, he thought idly.

  “She’s a great kid. Sweet. Smarter than any kid I’ve met her age,” he replied.

  “Have you met a lot of kids her age?”

  “We do visits to the elementary schools—me and some of the deputies. Sam’s fiancée, Anna, teaches grade two. She does this whole thing on community helpers. Not a lot, I guess. But enough.”

  “Enough to know she’s different.”

  He hated that it wasn’t a question and that her voice sounded sad when she spoke. He turned his face to her, but she was staring at his ceiling. When she turned to meet his gaze, her eyes were damp, but she smiled at him and then leaned in to kiss him.

  “You arrest any bad guys tonight?” she asked.

  Lucy held Alex’s gaze, but her stomach wouldn’t settle. She had started the conversation, but she didn’t want to finish it now. His eyes watched her closely, like he could see too much.

  “Actually, yes,” he finally said. His eyes were tired but his voice hardened. “Our old pal Davey Morgan. He was causing a bunch of trouble out at The Catfish.”

  “Geez. The Catfish. I forgot that place was there. I guess some things never change,” she murmured, moving so she was on her side again, her head resting on his bicep. Despite the warmth in the room, she shivered a bit. Now that she wasn’t sleeping, she felt a bit chilled.

  “Yeah. Davey hasn’t changed at all. We ended up throwing him in a cell for the night. He’ll sl
eep it off and be at it again within a day or two. He had paint in his hair.”

  “What?” She sat up, pulled her knees up to her chest, and looked down at him. His hand came to rest on the small of her back as he continued.

  “I noticed it at the bar when we showed up. When we got back to the station, with the light, I could see it was paint for sure. Blue. Like the blue that was all over the wall before the rec center burned.”

  “You remember the shade of blue?”

  “Not really the shade, no. Just that it was a different kind of blue than your every-day dark blue or light blue. I asked him about it, and he said he was painting a friend’s house.”

  “You don’t believe him?”

  “I don’t believe a damn thing he says, but I can’t do much when the only thing to go on is paint in his hair. I’ll talk to the friend tomorrow, but my gut says it’ll lead nowhere.” Alex grabbed his water and took a long drink, like it could help wash away his frustration.

  She took a sip when he handed her the water. “Why would Davey burn the rec center?” she asked him, passing him back the bottle. He put it back on the bedside table and shrugged.

  “Damn. I don’t know. Why would anyone? Davey’s an idiot. Whatever stupid-ass choices he makes, I’m sure he has a rationalization for them.”

  He frowned and she could see the irritation coming off of him in small surges. She lifted herself so she could straddle his lap and put her hands on his chest. He leaned back to accommodate her, but his eyes were still troubled.

  “You’ll figure it out, Alex.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Because you won’t stop until you do.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him gently before kissing each of his eyelids—hoping she could clear the worry from them.

  “Do you have to sneak back to your parents’ soon?” he asked, leaning up and threading his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck.

  “I don’t have a curfew,” she chuckled, kissing him lightly.

  “It feels like you do. You sneak away every night.”

  “I don’t sneak. It’s not a secret. And I come back.”

  “Yes. You do.” She felt his smile against her collarbone as he kissed her there.

  “Do you want me to stay?” she asked quietly. The words felt like they echoed in the silence of the room. The heat had turned off, making the hitch in his breath more audible. The sound caused a mirroring sensation in her heart. Which she tried to ignore.

  “The answer to that will always be yes,” he whispered, his hands sliding to her cheeks, his thumbs brushing over them as his eyes met hers, captured hers, and held them.

  “Alex.”

  It was all she could say, because if she said anything else, it would be too much. Too much to say and too much to feel. Just as his face, the way he looked at her, made her feel too much, want too much—especially when she felt like she could keep doing this, being with him for a really long time. Lucy never did anything for a really long time.

  “Stay,” he murmured against her lips. “Always stay.” His thumb was still on her cheek, making it easy for him to catch the tear that slipped from her eye. She nuzzled into him, realizing that she didn’t feel panic at his words. Instead, she felt a slow, steady warmth travel over her skin and bury itself in her chest. She didn’t know what to do with the feeling or what to say, so she kissed him. Kept kissing him, painfully aware that the warmth continued to spread inside of her, like it was part of her—like he was becoming part of her—like if she let it, let him, he could become the biggest and best part of her. The pressure in her chest increased, making her literally ache to get closer to him. To take more and give more before there was nothing left at all. Nothing but this ache and Alex.

  Chapter 11

  Since he booked and released Davey, two warehouses, the elementary school, and the wall behind Adam’s Apples had been tagged. Four places in three days. The fire had been the most aggressive event, but it had been relatively quiet since. Now, someone seemed to be making up for lost time. Alex took a few more pictures as Nick swore under his breath beside him behind the grocery store. The smell of garbage was almost as oppressive as the heat.

  “What’s the matter with kids today?” Nick grumbled, stacking crates in a neat pile.

  “We pulled pranks and acted like idiots, too, Nick. We just knew better than to throw it in everyone’s face. We’re going to catch the person doing this,” Alex answered. He swiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. The day was already long and hot, and it wasn’t even noon yet. Stowing the camera, he took out a small, spiral-bound notebook and a pen. Nick swiped a cloth under his curtain of white hair to mop his brow.

  “Anybody around lately that seems suspicious? Angry?” Alex asked him, the answer already in his gut like lead stones.

  “You think someone is mad at me because I overcharge them on apples? Nah. You know I got no problems. Only person mad at me is my wife, and she’s not even this good an artist,” Nick answered, pursing his lips into a deep frown as he looked up at the brick wall. There were mostly swirls of color twisting into each other. They spiraled together to create a rainbow vortex. Some of the scrawling at the school had included words—stupid words that Alex figured were this generation’s curses. Words like “snap” and “frack.” Words that seemed out of context and pointless to him.

  “Alright, well, if you think of anything, anyone, let me know. I’m going to go print these out. You should call your insurance agent,” Alex said around a large sigh.

  “Yeah, yeah. I think they’re probably pretty busy right at the moment, but I will.”

  He watched Nick go through the back door of his shop. Nick and Fiona would carry on as usual—as would the rest of the targets. What choice did they have until Alex could figure out who the hell had a grudge against the entire town? He walked back to the station, his shirt sticking to his back. Despite the heat, there was a breeze flowing, making it feel like hot air fans were blowing directly his way. He waved to the driver of a truck, who stopped so he could cross the quiet street. Opening the door to the sheriff’s office, the push of cool air slapped him in the face. His dad was hunched over Dolores’s desk, tapping his foot to the Taylor Swift song being blasted far too loud. The fact that he recognized the singer irritated Alex. Couldn’t she play the classic rock station every once in a while? He was scowling when Dolores looked up, face flushed, and gave a little squeak.

  “Well, hey there, Sheriff. How’d it go?” Her bright red lips smiled pleasantly.

  His dad unfolded himself off of the front counter and turned to smile at Alex. Looking at his dad gave him a good idea of what he’d look like in thirty years. His dad was aging well, staying fit by hiking and running frequently. They shared many features—the height, wide shoulders, and dark, assessing eyes. Something gnawed inside Alex’s gut, but he couldn’t pinpoint what.

  “Hey dad. What are you doing here?” Alex redirected. Chuck’s face looked a little flushed as he walked toward Alex and clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Wanted to see my son. Most sons stop by and see their fathers, but if I want to see mine, I have to hunt him down,” Chuck ribbed. Dolores held out a stack of pink sticky notes, despite the fact that Alex knew she had an unused stack of message pads. She preferred sticky notes in vibrant colors, and he often found them stuck to his desk, computer, or coffee pot.

  “Mine is no better. Always off running with his friends or doing God knows what in his room,” Dolores lamented.

  “What about that art school he went to in New York?” Alex asked, trying to remember details as he looked through the sticky notes. Dolores talked so much that he didn’t always remember the details.

  “Well, I told him that staying with his daddy and his uncle wasn’t going to turn out well, but what fourteen-year-old believes his mother? That fancy art program my ex promised him was nothing but a bunch of yuppie kids with nothing better to do than spend their parents’ money. He
came home after three months.”

  Alex looked up and saw his dad looking at Dolores, that same pink glow spreading across Chuck’s cheeks again. Christ. Don’t go there, dad. Alex moved toward his office with Chuck following behind. Dolores turned the music up a bit louder. Alex tossed the sticky notes down onto his desk, unstuck the ones that stayed on his fingers, and rubbed at his neck. Chuck seated himself on the battered wooden chair, unbothered by its lack of comfort.

  “You look like shit,” Chuck assessed, stretching out his long, denim-clad legs.

  “You’re wearing cowboy boots,” Alex replied.

  “So?”

  “So, when did you become a cowboy?”

  “Never mind my choice of shoes. You sleeping at all? You got any leads? What’s this I hear about you shacking up with Lucy Aarons?”

  Alex swore under his breath and dropped into his chair. He rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles.

  “Those aren’t shoes. I’m not sleeping. I don’t have any leads, and I’m not shacking up with Lucy.”

  His dad arched one eyebrow and waited. Chuck had been a good sheriff. Alex knew he had big shoes to fill, and at the moment, he wasn’t all that fond of his father’s cowboy boots.

  “Hey, can I borrow your laptop?” Lucy asked, walking into Kate’s room unannounced. Kate slapped the top of her computer closed and turned to face Lucy.

  “Ever hear of knocking?”

  “Yes. I thought we outlawed it in this house. You looking at porn?”

  “No! I’m not Char.”

  Lucy chuckled and flopped down onto Kate’s perfectly made bed, giving in to the urge to stretch. For someone spending so much time in bed lately, she was really tired.

  “Are you internet dating?”

  “No. For goodness sakes.”

  Whatever she was doing, Kate didn’t want to share. She opened the laptop back up but kept her body angled so Lucy couldn’t see it from where she lay on her bed before she closed down what she was working on and passed the laptop to Lucy.