Chapter 9 Alex
ALEX
The picnic was in full swing, all sunshine and organized chaos. Kids darted between tables, music pulsed from a Bluetooth speaker, and the air smelled like grilled pork chops.
Leo was vibrating beside me, tutu glittering in the light. “Can I go skate?”
“Go for it, buddy,” I said, adjusting my volunteer badge. “Stay near the path, and remember—slow around the little ones.”
He nodded solemnly, then sprinted off at a speed that was the opposite of “slow.”
I chuckled, shaking my head.
Volunteering at the first aid tent wasn’t exactly thrilling, but I liked being useful. It kept me grounded.
“Hey, Prince,” Becca called, passing by with a tray of water bottles. “We’ve got a kid down by the relay cones—scraped elbow, mild tears.”
“On it,” I said, grabbing the first aid kit and jogging over.
The kid was fine, more startled than hurt. I knelt, wiped the scrape gently, applied a bright-blue bandage with cartoon penguins on it, and told him he was now officially invincible. He smiled through his sniffles and ran off to rejoin the game.
As I straightened, my gaze drifted across the park, and that’s when I saw her.
Eleanor Tremaine.
I’d only met her once, outside the community center, but she’d stuck with me. There was something about her, the quiet steadiness, the way her eyes held entire stories even when she said almost nothing.
And now she was here.
Her hair was loose today, catching the sunlight like a golden thread.
She wore jean shorts and a soft blue shirt that hugged her curves in ways that made it very difficult to focus on first aid procedures.
She wasn’t flashy or loud, but she didn’t have to be.
She carried a kind of gentle gravity that drew your eyes without asking.
Ava was with her, standing a little behind, clutching her skates. Belle appeared beside them, all confidence and chaos, and before long, Eleanor was laughing, shaking her head, and sitting down to lace up a pair herself.
I caught myself smiling.
She looked nervous at first, cautious in that way people do when they’ve forgotten how to play. Then she pushed off, wobbled, and steadied. A flash of determination crossed her face.
God, she was beautiful.
The kind of beauty that made you want to root for her.
I turned away to help a teenager wrap an ankle, but my eyes kept drifting back toward the skating path. Every time I saw her, that same pull hit me.
Then it happened.
One second she was upright, the next she was airborne, and then—thud.
I winced. “Oof. That’s gonna leave a mark.”
Belle was already sprinting toward her, shouting something about “grace in motion.” I forced myself to stay put, though every part of me wanted to run over. She was fine. Probably. Maybe.
A few minutes later, the tent flap rustled, and Belle appeared, half-grinning, half-worried, guiding Eleanor inside.
“Got a casualty for you,” Belle announced. “Skated straight into her comeback era.”
And then Eleanor looked up and smiled at me.
Recognition flickered in her eyes, followed by a soft laugh. “You again.”
“Me again,” I said, grabbing the medical kit. “We really need to stop meeting like this.”
I got to work on patching her up. I swear, every time I touched her, my heart fluttered.
What was it about her?
As she stepped out of the tent, sunlight spilling around her like something holy, I couldn’t stop watching.
And for the first time in a long time, I wanted something more than calm.
I wanted her.
The crowd had thinned a little as the sun dipped low, leaving the park bathed in gold. Kids were sticky with snow-cone syrup, parents were chatting over paper plates, and the Grim Reapers were doing slow laps around the path, laughing too loud and daring each other to race.
Leo was at the playground now, taking turns pushing a smaller kid on the swing, that soft, patient smile on his face that always hit me right in the chest.
“Hey, stranger.”
I turned to find Becca walking toward the first-aid tent, sunglasses perched on her head, denim jacket tied at her waist. The sight of her still sparked that instinctive warmth, familiar, easy.
“Hey, you,” I said, grinning. “Didn’t expect to see you before dinner.”
“I finished errands early and figured I’d check in on my favorite boys,” she said, bumping my shoulder lightly.
Leo was waving at someone, Ava, I realized. And not far behind, Eleanor stood beside Belle, one knee bandaged neatly in my handiwork, her hair glowing in the late light.
Becca followed my gaze and tilted her head. “So. Who’s that?”
I played dumb. “Who’s who?”
She gave me the look, the same one she used to give me when I claimed not to have eaten the last of the ice cream. “Alex.”
“What?” I asked, too quickly.
Her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “The woman you’re definitely pretending not to stare at.”
I scoffed. “I’m not staring.”
“You are absolutely staring,” she said, crossing her arms. “And before you try to deny it, your face does that soft, kicked-puppy thing when you like someone.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, trying not to smile. “You’re imagining things.”
“Uh-huh.” She leaned closer, voice teasing. “So, who is she?”
“Her name’s Eleanor,” I admitted. “Her daughter’s in the Penguin Project. We met at rehearsal . . . and again today, under less graceful circumstances.”
Becca’s eyes sparkled. “Oh? Do tell.”
“She fell while skating,” I said. “Came to the first-aid tent. I patched her up.”
“Mmhmm.” Becca’s grin widened. “And now you’re looking at her like she’s the last cupcake at the bake sale.”
I groaned. “You’re relentless.”
“I’m observant,” she said. “And she is really pretty. Soft in that way that makes you want to lean closer.”
I blinked. “You—wait, you’re saying that?”
Becca shrugged. “I can appreciate good looks. She looks . . . real. Like she doesn’t hide who she is.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly before I could stop myself. “She really does.”
Becca smiled, softer this time. “You should ask her out, you know.”
I froze. “What?”
“You heard me,” she said, grinning. “You’ve been co-parenting and helping everyone else heal for years, Alex. Maybe it’s time to let someone make you happy.”
I exhaled, half a laugh, half a sigh. “You think she’d say yes?”
“I think you’ll never know if you don’t try,” she said, nudging me with her shoulder. “Besides, I’m due for some new dinner-party gossip.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re terrible.”
“Terribly supportive,” she corrected, winking. “Now go hand out Band-Aids and practice your charm. You’ve got this.”
As she walked off toward the grill, I glanced back at the skating path.
Eleanor was laughing at something Belle said, sunlight catching in her hair, her hand resting lightly on Ava’s shoulder.
Becca was right. She was beautiful.
And maybe, for the first time in a long while, I was ready to see where something new might lead.