by Jody Holford
“Fuck you. You don’t have to enjoy this,” Alex replied. His shoulders sagged.
“Come on. Don’t be like that. Seriously, man. You are going to have to beg for forgiveness. You need to pull out all the stops. You want Lucy back, you need to turn yourself inside out and prove it. Show her that you know her, that you get her. Prove to her that you’ve changed—whatever you have to do. I can tell you from having things almost go south with Anna, laying yourself bare is scary as hell, but worth it if it works.”
Alex mulled over what Sam had said. He had already come to those conclusions, which was why he had asked Sam to stop by in the first place.
“I need your help,” Alex admitted.
“You got it,” Sam replied.
Lucy didn’t expect miracles, but she had thought by the third day home from the hospital, something would stop hurting. People fell in and out of love all of the time. She’d been to Hollywood and she read the magazines. How did they do this? How could anyone survive this churning and devastation that swirled inside of her heart and her head? How did she move beyond Alex seeing her just as everyone else did?
The sun was shining through her bedroom window, reminding her that the world still rotated and everyone in it was still functioning. Knowing that didn’t entice her to participate. The spot on her bed was too cozy. It needed the weight of her, and she thought that getting up would take too much effort. Kate walked in without knocking. Lucy moved only her eyes. Kate tilted her head, and Lucy would have punched her for the look of pity, but again, the effort. Kate wore a white, oversized, collared-shirt-dress that hung to her knees. She’d paired it with a wide brown belt and boots. Lucy wondered how she’d missed her sister’s real passion all this time. Kate carried a brown cardboard box from Kinko’s. Lucy closed her eyes. She knew what that was.
“Get up. Looking at hot men always helps,” Kate said. She came to the bed and pushed Lucy’s curled-up legs so that her feet fell off the edge of the bed.
“When did you become so bossy? You’re acting like Char,” Lucy grumbled. But she also sat up and ran a finger part way through her hair, getting it caught on the tangles. She sighed and leaned her head on Kate’s shoulder.
“You adore Char, so I’ll take that as a compliment. Have you talked to him?” Kate asked.
Lucy took the box and ignored the question. “Let me see my handy work.”
The calendars were beautiful. The front had a great shot of all the guys playing basketball on the court behind the almost-finished rec center. They were laughing and smiling. Sam was up in the air, making a shot, and Alex was guarding him at the net. Lucy inhaled slowly, painfully, certain she could hear the crumbling inside of her chest.
“You sure you want to look?” Kate asked with more gentleness than Lucy could stomach. She stood up and put the box on the bed.
She couldn’t look at them with an audience. “I need a shower. You check them and make sure everything is alright. We’ll go over to the rec center when I’m done, okay?” Lucy said, pulling fresh clothes out of her dresser. Kate came over and wrapped her in her arms. Lucy let herself be hugged for a few seconds before she firmed her shoulders and her resolve.
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” Kate said. Lucy nodded and headed for the shower.
Under the hot spray, the scent of vanilla shampoo surrounding her, Lucy sobbed, hoping that the water would wash away the pain and the empty ache. The hardest part, other than him not believing in her—in them—was knowing that even if—when—she got through this, she would never fully be over him. He would always be part of her.
Sitting in his car outside his dad’s house, far enough away that he wasn’t immediately visible, Alex barely recognized himself. Here he was, spying on his own father because he couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, all of the trouble was connected to him. Sometimes, people weren’t who you thought they were. He hadn’t turned out to be who’d Lucy thought he was—hell, who he had thought he was. His phone buzzed. His hope was squashed immediately when he saw Sam’s text: Just checked it out. Should be easy enough. Won’t take more than a couple of days. You owe me.
Yeah, he owed him, even if his plan didn’t work. Alex slouched down a bit, pushed his seat back, and felt the last few days catching up with him. His eyelids were heavy, and even with the windows open, so was the heat. Without warning, his dad came out of his house, springing down the front stairs, headed to his aging Durango. Hopping in, he backed out of his driveway, forcing Alex to sit up and shake off the heat. Though he didn’t feel good about it, he started his car and tailed Chuck from a safe distance.
“Where the hell are you going?” Alex mumbled after he had followed behind for about ten minutes. Older homes lined the street, along with the cars people parked in front of those homes. Alex knew a few people who lived in the decent neighborhood that was just south of the main area of town. In his gut, he knew, but he didn’t want to admit it or face it without proof.
Sure enough, Chuck pulled up to the curb outside of a little bungalow that was older, but well cared for. Painted a bright, cheerful yellow, it had multicolored window boxes brimming with a rainbow of flowers. It suited its owner perfectly. Said owner must have been watching for his dad because she came bouncing out of the house, her hair not moving with her exaggerated, high-heeled steps. She had a leopard skin purse the size of a suitcase slung over her shoulder and even from where he sat, parked down the street, Alex could see she was wearing fishnet stockings. He didn’t know they still made those for anything other than Halloween costumes. As they moved closer to each other, Alex groaned out loud.
“Don’t do it. Stop. Please don’t. Arrrg,” he groused, slapping his hand hard on the steering wheel. Through squinted eyes, he watched as his dad embraced Dolores in a so-much-more-than-friends hug and then kissed her like he was going on leave for a month. Alex was suddenly grateful that he hadn’t eaten much in the last few days because with what he was watching, he had a feeling it would have come back to bite him.
The rec center was ready. It needed a good cleaning—construction crews weren’t known for their tidy cleanups. Still, they had gotten most of the work done at cost, so Lucy wasn’t complaining and neither was Kate. Her sister had an exam that evening, and Lucy had told her she would walk home. Kate had protested, but Lucy insisted, saying the fresh air would make her feel better. It did, particularly in that moment, when day was turning to evening. When the air cooled but wasn’t cold. When the heat lifted slightly and the slight breeze moved in from the lake, funneling around her, thanks to the mountains.
It surprised her that, even with the sadness that had taken up residence inside of her heart and her mind, she had no urge to leave. In fact, she was thinking about getting a place of her own. She would need one. She certainly didn’t want to live with her parents forever, and she needed to start making some plans. As she walked past the Sheriff’s station, she kept her eyes down, watching her footsteps. She couldn’t avoid him forever, but she didn’t have to see him now. She would have to talk to him again, but it didn’t have to be today. She kicked a stone in her path and decided to pick up some dessert from Bean’s Bakery.
Opening the door, she held it for the high-haired woman that was coming out with a delicious smelling pie. Dolores might be stuck in the eighties, but she seemed like a sweet woman, and just the sight of her made her think of Alex and his funny stories about Dolores and the station.
“Well, hey there. Heard you weren’t feeling too well,” Dolores said, a wide smile on her pink lips. Lucy continued to hold the door.
“Oh, I’m okay. Just a dizzy spell and everyone overreacted,” Lucy said, shrugging and feeling the need to escape before his name was said.
“I’ve never seen Alex so beside himself. He was positively sick with worry,” Dolores crooned. Lucy’s heart cracked at the sound of his name.
“I’m fine. Really.”
Dolores smiled at her like they had some sort of secret understanding. Then her eyes w
idened.
“Are you still looking for donations for the auction?” Dolores asked.
Lucy felt silly standing there with the door open. She caught Bean’s eye from behind Dolores’s back and stifled a small giggle at the baker’s talks-too-much gesture.
“Of course. Do you have something? I’m trying to get everything together by Friday morning,” Lucy said.
“My son is an artist and, I know I’m his mama, but my boy has talent. Serious talent. I would be thrilled to donate a few of his pieces. He’s shy about offering his work, but I just keep telling him he needs to get it out there,” Dolores gushed.
Lucy wasn’t sure what kind of cash value a painting from Dolores’s son would bring, but every artist started somewhere, so she was happy to agree.
Dolores moved out of the doorway finally, and Lucy gave up, letting the door close and ignoring Bean’s wide smirk from behind the counter. She was middle-aged, blunt, and very funny. Lucy always wondered if ‘Bean’ was a nickname. Dolores pushed her pie at Lucy, who had no choice but to accept, then dug in her large, animal print bag.
“You come choose one or two pieces, okay? What am I saying? I can just give them to Alex, and he can give them to you,” she said, laughing too hard and starting to put her pen away.
“No!” Lucy said forcefully then took a deep breath and tried to smile. “Just write your address. I’ll come pick them up tomorrow night.”
Dolores gave her an odd look but didn’t question Lucy further. She wrote her address down on the back of a receipt and traded it for the pie.
“Thanks for doing this,” Dolores said.
“Thank you. Are you coming to the gala?”
“I absolutely am. I have this gorgeous sequined dress that has just been begging for a night out,” the enthusiastic blonde told her. Lucy smiled and bit her tongue.
By the time Dolores finally walked away, pie in hand, Lucy had lost her appetite for dessert. The only thing she had an appetite for was Alex. But, like dessert, she was probably better off without.
Chapter 24
Lucy sat on the porch step in the moonlight and thought about the night she’d come home. She’d been so tired and ready for a break. Africa had been wonderful, and she had especially enjoyed the last village, but it had made her crave her own village. Her own family. The night air was cool, a welcome reprieve from the heat she had felt in her bedroom, even with the window open. So she’d crept down the stairs like she had throughout her teenage years, past her parents’ bedroom, and eased the door open to sit on the steps. She looked at Alex’s house. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen his truck in the driveway. She wondered if Furball was lonely. Nowhere near as lonely as she was.
Even as she heard the crunch of the gravel under his tires, as her heart picked up its pace and her stomach twisted, she didn’t move. She should have. She should have spared herself the agony of looking at his face, even in profile. But she missed his face so much. And his arms. The way he laughed, how he smelled and how he was always touching her. In the dark, with only a pale strip of the moon, if she were silent, if she held her breath, he would walk right by her and she could just look at him.
She heard his footsteps, heavy and slow, like the days without him. He stopped and she heard him change directions, coming toward her. Her heart hammered. It was dark. He couldn’t see her. Don’t breathe. Close your eyes. She could feel him in front of her. She could taste him, smell the sweetness of his soap and his aftershave. She squeezed her eyes tighter, trying not to inhale.
“You’re going to pass out again,” he whispered. How could his voice bring her so much relief when it was his words that had caused her such misery? She opened her eyes and a powerful fist squeezed her heart. He sat down on the step in front of her. The squeezing in her chest became nearly unbearable, like the fist had talons.
“I’m sorry doesn’t seem like enough,” he said. She couldn’t talk, so he did. “You are all I’ve ever wanted, and I will spend the rest of my life regretting my own stupidity if I can’t make this right. If I can’t find a way to get you to come back to me. I love you, Lucy. I have loved you every single day for sixteen years. I will love you for the rest of my life, even if you can’t find a way to forgive me for doubting you.”
Before she could absorb his words or anything she felt because of them, he stood and walked to his own house. Once he shut the door, the windows went dark. She knew the feeling, the sudden absence of light. She folded her body and rested her head on her knees, weeping without sound. When she heard footsteps beside her, she sat up, startled.
“Mom?” she said into the darkness. Her mother stood on the porch in her nightgown. She heard the large breath her mother took, like she was preparing to take a deep dive. Then the screen door opened, and her mother placed one foot on the wooden step. Lucy sat up straight, angled toward her mom, and held her breath. Julie hesitated. Lucy could see in the moonlight that she had her eyes closed. Then she opened them and took another step. When she sat beside Lucy, all of the air she’d been holding released like she was resurfacing. Lucy’s tears fell onto her lap and her chin shook. Julie trembled as well. Lucy reached out her hand to steady her mother’s, but instead, Julie’s arms came around her and pulled Lucy into her side.
“Come here,” she said, her voice shaky. “I’m here.”
Julie’s tears mingled with Lucy’s as they kept each other anchored and safe, treading water under the moon, both of them just trying to stay above the surface.
Alex reached for her before he remembered Lucy didn’t share his bed anymore. His phone was vibrating and his head was pounding. Knocking back a few shots of whiskey when he came into the house hours ago had not erased the image of her sitting there in the glow of the moon. His phone buzzed again.
“Whitman,” he answered. He slapped his hand over his eyes to block the sunlight that was streaming through.
“Hey, boss. Cal called. Seems someone not only tagged him, but also set his dumpster on fire. Figured you’d want to head over there,” Mick said. Alex cursed and sat up, then swore again at the pounding in his head.
“I’m on my way. Fire department put it out?”
“They’re doing it now. It’s under control.”
Alex clicked end without saying good-bye. Advil, coffee, car keys. He repeated the three things, almost forgot to include pants and a shirt, and was in his truck within ten minutes of the call. When he pulled up, the fire truck was loading back up. Smoke filled the air as anger filled Alex’s belly. He was going to pin this punk’s ass to the wall. Out of his truck, he clipped his badge onto his belt and met the fire chief halfway.
“Morning, Sheriff. Hell of a way to wake up,” Quinn said. He pulled his helmet off and swiped at his dirt-covered forehead with the sleeve of his even dirtier arm.
“I can think of far better ways,” Alex said, his voice clipped. Quinn, who was about his height, nodded in agreement, his sweat-slicked brown hair sticking to his forehead.
“Fire is out. Looks like the same MO as the other ones. Accelerant-soaked rag. Inspector is on his way in from Minnesota. I think we’re pissing him off with our suddenly frequent needs,” Quinn said, smirking and clapping Alex on the shoulder.
“Yeah, well, he can get in line. I’m pretty pissed myself. Is everyone okay?”
“Yes. Waitress hurt her wrist. She was coming out to toss the garbage into the bin, and when she saw the fire, she ran back in. A customer was coming out, and the door smashed her arm. Medics are looking at her.”
Alex thanked him and went to find Cal and his staff. Danielle was sitting in the back of the ambulance, a female medic wrapping her wrist. The woman, her ponytail so tight it was making Alex’s eyes hurt, glanced at him and nodded.
“You okay, Danielle?” Alex said, squeezing her other shoulder lightly.
“Sprained wrist and trampled pride,” she said, smiling up at him. Her ponytail was looser, strands falling into her eyes.
“No need for th
at. You up to answering some questions?” Alex asked.
“You’re all done here. You need to go to the doctor if it’s still hurting in a week, but a bit of ice, ibuprofen, and rest should do the trick,” the medic told her, moving so Danielle could stand. Alex took her arm, and she smiled at him warmly before thanking the woman for her help.
Cal was answering questions with Elliot, but Alex figured his answers were the same as Danielle’s. No one saw anything. When they’d shown up for the morning shift, the front of the restaurant had been tagged. The fire couldn’t have been set too long before they arrived, which meant that whoever set it had an easy getaway or didn’t live too far away.
“Damn jerks. Now my place is wrecked,” Cal said, spitting into the gravel. Elliot walked over to where the firemen were loading up and heading out.
“It sucks, Cal, but it’s not like you couldn’t use a coat of paint all the way through,” Alex said, unaccountably irritated. He shouldn’t take his frustration out on Cal.
“You have insurance, Cal,” Danielle said, rubbing Cal’s burly arm.
“Yeah, I do. At least no one got badly hurt. You going to be okay?” Cal asked, frowning at Danielle’s wrapped wrist.
“Sure. I’m fine.”
“You take whatever time off you need, honey,” Cal told her. Danielle’s face colored, and Alex wondered if there was something between them.
“I can’t afford to take time off. I’m fine,” Danielle said. Alex was about to comment when Cal’s chest puffed out and his cheeks darkened to a ruddy red color.
“You think I’m going to dock you pay? Jesus, woman. Go home.”
Alex watched the exchange, feeling like he was peeking through someone’s window. Danielle looked at her feet, and Cal stared at Danielle. Definitely something going on. Elliot joined them again just as Danielle spoke in an almost-whisper.
“I didn’t bring my car,” she said to Cal. Elliot’s eyebrows raised and waggled at Alex, who cut him off with a stern look.