12. Juno
12
Juno
Juno was done in. After the lunch rush, she usually took a break, but there'd been an unexpected afternoon surge, followed by an inventory check that revealed critical shortages she couldn't wait for her weekly suppliers to fill on Tuesday. A late night run to Evansville's supercenter hadn't been in her plans, but Autumn Lake grocers had closed hours ago.
It was now almost midnight, and the streets of her beloved town were quiet at this hour. She'd left two vintage globe lamps on in the coffee shop, a habit from when she'd first reopened the place, and as she drove by the storefront, she smiled at the sight. The low light made the place look warm and inviting even when empty.
She pulled around the back of the shop and into the wide, well-maintained alley in order to park as close to the back door of her kitchen as possible. After a childhood like hers, it was ingrained in Juno to pay attention to her surroundings at all times.
Her headlights illuminated the large blue truck parked near the foot of the stairs that led up to her upstairs apartment.
The Beast.
And The Beast's owner.
It had been a week since she'd last seen Alex, and although she could admit she'd been worried about him, she knew he was in good hands. Penny had been into the coffee shop only yesterday and said Alex was back on the job pretty much full time, and that it looked like they'd be wrapping things up this weekend.
Alex had texted on Saturday, thanking her for the coffee and sandwich, apologizing for being short with Poppy during the lunch delivery. He'd been worried he'd upset her.
But the bubbly Poppy had returned unfazed, gushing about how "amazing" and "what a good sport" Alex was. "He looks tired, but who wouldn't?" she'd declared, hand over her heart.
Juno hadn't gone into detail, but she'd texted back to let Alex know that Poppy was fine, and that she was glad he enjoyed the sandwich. She thanked him for helping with Mrs. Becker, but didn't bother asking why he'd been there. He'd dodged the question when they were face to face; why would he tell her the truth via text?
She'd watched the three little dots dance across the screen for several moments before he simply sent a 'thumbs up' emoji in response. She'd put her phone face-down in the pantry and left the kitchen so she wouldn't be tempted to keep checking it.
When she finally retrieved her phone an hour later, there was nothing more from him.
So what was he doing in her alley now, outside her back door in the middle of the night?
She took her keys from the ignition. She should go inside. She had groceries to put away, a very early morning tomorrow, and a really comfortable bed waiting for her to fall into. Whatever Alex was doing here wasn't her concern, and even if he was here to see her, now was not the time. He could come back during normal waking hours. He could call. He could text her and ask when a good time would be.
But the truck's crooked position, one tire on the curb, made her hesitate. She'd never forgive herself if something was wrong and she didn't check.
Sighing, she retrieved her phone from her pocket, switched on its flashlight, and climbed out.
Alex's silhouette was slumped over the steering wheel. The smell of alcohol wafted from his half-open window, triggering a sickening déjà vu. How many times had she dragged her father, too drunk to stand, from his car and into the house?
"Alex?" He lifted his head, blinking slowly, his eyes unfocused. She shone the light into the cab, then at his face, not even trying to keep the beam out of his eyes.
He squinted and put up a hand to bat away the light. "Juno." Her name came out slurred, barely recognizable. "I... wasn't gonna bother you."
"Are you okay?" A stupid question. He clearly wasn't.
"M'fine." He fumbled with his seatbelt. "Just... needed to see… We need to talk. Maybe tomorrow." He was hardly making any sense at all.
Her chest tightened, anger and concern battling for dominance. "You're drunk."
"Little bit." He attempted a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Don't worry. Not driving anywhere."
"You drove here," she shot back, anger winning out over worry. He thought this was funny? "How long have you been out here?"
He squinted at the dashboard clock. "Dunno. An hour, maybe? Where ya been?"
Juno sighed, leaning against the truck's door. "Alex, what are you doing? What happened? You can't just..."
"I know," he interrupted, voice suddenly sharp. "I'm screwing up again. That's... that's what I do, right? I mess everything up, and I hurt people."
The raw pain in his voice caught her off guard. Despite his slurred words, it was clear that he was suffering, and it had nothing to do with his ankle.
"I can't—can't do anything right," he continued, voice dropping to a whisper. "Don't deserve anything good anyway."
Juno considered what she'd learned recently—Jason's suicide, Alex's downward spiral, his pattern of dating women who wouldn't stay. He'd been sober for years, yet here he sat, drunk and despairing. This went deeper than just their broken relationship. Something significant must have triggered this relapse.
In the truck, Alex's head was lolling to one side, and he was barely able to keep his eyes open, even though she was no longer shining the light in them. She glanced at her watch. She didn't have the time or energy to take him home tonight. She had too much to do before she could crawl in bed already, and besides, she wasn't sure how smart it would be to leave him alone right now. Not only was he drunk, but he was in a bad frame of mind, too. With a deep sigh, Juno made up her mind.
"Come on," she said, opening the truck door. "You can't stay out here."
He looked up at her, confusion evident on his face. "What?"
"You're coming upstairs. To my place." She reached past him and took his keys from the ignition, then pocketed them. "You need to sleep this off, and I don't trust you enough to leave you alone."
Alex clutched the steering wheel with both hands. "I can sleep here. I won't go anywhere, I promise."
"You are not sleeping out here, you big lug. Now get out and let's go. I don't have all night." She took his elbow and gave it a little tug. "I still have to unload my car, and I'm too tired to fight, so please don't argue with me."
"But… why?" His voice cracked. "Why are you helping me?"
The question hung between them, heavy with their shared history, with all the hurt and misunderstandings and years of avoidance.
"Don't be ridiculous," she said, her tone brusque, but not unkind. "I'm not going to leave you sitting alone in an alley at midnight."
In spite of his attempt to cooperate, it took some effort to get him out of the truck. The walking boot made maneuvering awkward, and being intoxicated didn't help his balance any. By the time they made it up the flight of stairs to her apartment door, he was leaning heavily against her, muttering apologies with each step.
Her home was small but welcoming—a cozy living room connected to an open kitchen, with her bedroom and bath down a short hallway. She guided him to her sofa, where he collapsed with a groan.
"Stay here," she ordered, though he looked incapable of anything else. She returned shortly with a pillow and blanket, as well as the trash can from her bathroom. "If you need to puke and can't make it to the bathroom," she said, setting it on the floor beside him, then pointed down the little hall. "There is a toothbrush and toothpaste on the bathroom counter for you, and I'll get you a water glass, too." He sat there swaying slightly side-to-side, shoulders hunched, chin almost resting on his chest. "I need to go unload a trunk full of groceries. Are you going to be okay while I'm downstairs for the next several minutes?"
Alex nodded slowly. "D'you need any help?"
Juno bit back a laugh. "I'll be fine. Will you?"
"I'll be fine," he assured her. "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Be safe." The words came out before she could stop them. On more than one occasion, she'd said the exact same thing to him back in high school. He used to scare her to death with his driving, and when she'd get upset, he'd apologize, and then she'd tell him, "Don't be sorry. Be safe. I don't want to lose you."
Alex held her gaze for a long moment. He was remembering, too. Finally, just like he'd responded back then, he said, "I promise."
When she returned about fifteen minutes later, Alex was stretched out on the sofa, one arm draped over his eyes, the blanket spread haphazardly over him. His booted foot was propped up on one armrest, the other foot planted firmly on the floor, like he was bracing himself for whatever else that might come his way. Juno thought he was asleep, but when she straightened the blanket over his feet, he blinked slowly, focusing his bleary gaze on her.
"Hey," he said as she straightened and took a step back. "I'm sorry. You don't need this."
"No, I don't," she agreed, picking up his nearly-empty water glass and taking it into the kitchen to refill it. "But here we are."
She returned with the glass and set it within reach on the end table near his head. "I hope you don't end up with a crick in your neck. That couch isn't long enough for you, is it?" She eyed his foot on the floor.
Alex gave her a sloppy grin and his eyelids drifted closed again. "If I lift my foot off the floor, everything gets all…" His words trailed off, but he lifted a finger and made a circular motion.
She should go to bed. It was so late, and right now, they both needed sleep. But she also needed answers, and since he was still awake, she'd ask. Come morning, he might have second thoughts about talking, or if nothing else, regrets, and she'd be lucky to get anything out of him except more apologies.
"What happened, Alex?" she asked, sitting on the edge of a chair close by. "Why are you here?"
He didn't open his eyes, but she could see the muscles of his jaw working. Finally, he ground out, "I really messed up."
"What does that mean?" she asked, trying to keep her voice gentle. "I'm not angry that you're here, if that's what you're worried about. In fact, I'm glad you're safe."
Alex didn't speak for so long that she thought he'd fallen asleep. She started to get to her feet.
"You're too nice to me, June-bug." It came out like a moan. "You should hate me."
"I will never hate you, Alex," she returned quietly. Again, she asked, "What happened?"
Alex shook his head, but said nothing, and then she saw a tear squeeze out of the corner of his eye.
"It's okay," she said, touching his shoulder briefly. Why was she pushing him? He was in no shape to have a meaningful conversation. She could give him a little grace and wait for answers. "It's okay," she said again. "We can talk tomorrow. Get some sleep."
Alex swiped at the moisture with the back of his hand, but still didn't open his eyes. "I'm sorry," he apologized yet again. "I'm such a screw up."
"Shh. Enough of that." She moved the trash can a little closer to him and rested her hand on his shoulder again, letting it linger a little longer this time. "I'll be down the hall if you need me, okay?"
As she started to turn away, his hand covered hers—not forcefully, just enough to make her pause. She looked back at him and saw that his eyes were open.
"Thank you," he murmured.
She nodded, then carefully withdrew her hand out from under his. "Get some sleep, Alex. Whatever's going on, we'll figure it out tomorrow."
Later, lying in her own bed, she listened to his soft snores through the wall and wondered what she was doing. After everything, after all these years of keeping her distance, why bring him into her home? Into her private space?
Claire's words from earlier that week echoed in her mind. "Both of you were just kids when all this happened. Maybe neither of you had the tools to handle what came your way."
Well, like she'd said to her friend, they weren't kids anymore.
And maybe tomorrow, they were finally going to talk—really talk—for the first time since she'd left Autumn Lake all those years ago.