29. Booth
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
booth
“Behind!” I shout.
My chefs make room for me as I stomp toward the sink and slap on the faucet.
A sigh of relief escapes when the cold water soothes the burned skin on my palm.
It’s going to blister like a bitch.
I watched Simon remove the cast-iron skillet from the oven moments earlier, but my thoughts have been elsewhere all afternoon.
“You all right, Chef ?” Simon calls.
Nodding, I untie my apron with my free hand and fling it over my shoulder.
“ I’m gonna take a break while I get this wrapped up. You good?”
He throws me a salute.
“ We’ve got it handled.”
Thank fuck I have Simon to help, especially since we’ve been down a line cook.
I grab the first aid kit from above the sink and force a smile to the customers enjoying their lunch as I make my way to the office.
When inside, I inspect the damage.
It’s not the worst burn I’ve had, and I’m more annoyed that it will be a hindrance for the next few days until it heals.
It’s bad enough my knuckles are still bruised and sore from punching Kyle .
Once I’ve applied burn cream and slipped on a food preparation glove, I collapse onto the sofa and shut my eyes.
Last night was… fuck, it was magical.
Cooking , fucking, eating, and sleeping.
Simple acts turned vibrant with Aly as my partner.
Since we said goodbye outside her apartment this morning, I’ve been distracted.
When I asked what her plans were today, she grew elusive.
I didn’t push her to explain, but now, a small part of me wishes I had.
Five minutes of shut-eye will restore my depleted energy.
Just as my brain switches off, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
A frown wrinkles my brow when I see Martin’s name flashing on the screen.
“Hey, Martin . How are things?” I greet.
“Hi, Booth . Um , they’re okay. Listen , something odd happened, and I wasn’t sure who to call.” There’s an edge to his tone.
My stomach turns. “ What is it?”
He hesitates, adding to my anxiety.
“ It’s Alessandra .”
“What do you mean, she walked out?” I wince at my harsh tone.
“ Sorry , I’m struggling to understand.”
Martin looks at me sympathetically.
After we hung up, I drove out to his property.
“I’m really not sure what else to say. She came inside, I went to get us some coffee, and when I returned, she was climbing into her car and driving away.”
My hands hang between my open knees, fingers flexing as I attempt to keep the tension at bay.
“ And you said she seemed ‘off’?”
His eyes slide to the window overlooking the drive leading up to his farmhouse.
He appears as antsy as me.
“ Her turning up out of the blue was a little surprising and when she came inside, I couldn’t get a straight answer out of her regarding why she was there. When I asked if it was something to do with the apartment, she said no. It was only when…”
“When what?” I straighten in my seat.
He stares at his feet.
“ At Christmas , she asked about my son. No one has ever asked me about him before. Then today, she brought him up again.”
I lean forward.
“ What did she want to know?”
He releases a breath, like the world has been resting on his shoulders until this point.
“ If he lived in town. Why don’t I keep in touch? Do I know where he lives?” His eyes lift to mine.
“ I’ve tried calling her several times, but after a few rings, it goes to voice mail. I called you because I was, um, worried about her. And I presumed you were close.”
“She didn’t say where she was going?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
When Martin first called, I dropped by Aly’s apartment before driving here.
Like him, all my calls went to voice mail too.
My brain screams at me.
The question that’s been brewing for days refuses to be pushed down any longer, but I can’t.
I simply can’t let it break through the surface until I speak to Aly .
“I appreciate you calling me.” I stand and grab my coat from the sofa.
“ I’ll let you know when I find her. I’m sure she’s fine; she’s been busy with the restaurant. You know how it is?”
He stands, shoulders slumped as he fiddles with the cuff of his shirt.
“ She seems very accomplished. A real firecracker like my Judy . ”
My movements stop.
“ Judy ?”
Grief taints his expression.
“ My wife. A formidable woman who—well, let’s say deserved a lot better.”
I stand there awkwardly as I witness a reel of emotions play in Martin’s eyes— his gray eyes.
“I’ve known you my whole life, and I never knew you had a son or wife.”
He waves me off.
“ It’s not like I’ve been the warmest of people over the years. I hear what they say.”
I grimace, knowing exactly what they say.
Aloof. Recluse . Outcast .
For such a pillar in the community, so many have dubbed him as companionless.
I’m regretfully guilty of that.
“I was ashamed for a long time. It was easier to not talk about them.” He stares longingly out the window.
“ I missed out on so much, and now I can’t help but wonder what else I’ve missed out on.”
I follow his gaze, and just make out the tire tracks cutting through the snow.
One set belonging to a woman I desperately need to find.
It took Martin some convincing to let me into Aly’s apartment.
My heart sank when I saw her easel and paints gone, but on closer inspection, her other belongings remained.
Quinn hadn’t seen her.
She hadn’t visited Our Place .
Shirley’s was closed, and after driving around for almost an hour, I was losing hope I’d find her before night fell.
My knee bounces as I call her one more time.
When it goes to voice mail after two rings, again , I slump back into my sofa and stare out the window.
Ocean spray coats the glass, and I watch the water rivulets chase each other.
I pull up the text I sent her hours ago.
Booth: Martin called.
Can you let me know you’re safe?
I blink, worried I’m imagining it when three bubbles pop up and disappear on the screen.
Then it vibrates.
She-Devil: I’m safe.
Sorry for worrying you.
I’ll call when I’m back in town.
I deflate in relief.
And then I’m shooting to my feet.
She isn’t in Sutton Bay .
Aly wouldn’t dare set foot in a motel.
There’s only one place I can picture her; wrapped in a fluffy white towel, hair dripping wet, and skin flushed as she stares out at the frosty scenery.
It’s a long shot, but I’m grabbing my coat and keys, hauling ass to my truck.
I stop at the grocery store before heading north to my destination.
Twilight stains the sky a dark violet as I drive along the dirt path, my bones shaking as my wheels hit the large potholes concealed by the snow.
Dex is out of town, building a new cabin up by the Canadian border, with zero service.
When I see the soft amber glow of lights through the small window of The Nook , I really hope I’m about to get pepper sprayed by a silver-eyed vixen and not some unsuspecting vacationer.
My heart races as I jog up the front steps.
I plant my hands on my knees, collecting myself before I knock.
I’m not given the chance.
The door’s yanked open, and the scowl I adore greets me.
Hidden behind her steely gaze, solace cracks through.
She can deny it all she wants, but Alessandra is happy to see me .
My hands twitch at my sides, desperate to touch her, but I have to tread carefully.
Before she can invite me in—or slam the door in my face— I’m stepping inside.