5. Halle
CHAPTER 5
HALLE
I haven’t seen the neighbor, Caleb, in days, so I’m more than a little surprised when the porch light next door turns on, illuminating his tidy backyard, and he steps outside.
On instinct, I hunker down, like if I get low enough in the plastic chair, I can hide. I’m suddenly regretting turning on the shitty, flickering porch light. I should have gone with sitting in the dark as the sun set.
He braces his forearms on the railing of his deck, and his shoulders deflate like a several day-old balloon.
Since he hasn’t noticed me, I take him in, cataloging his broad shoulders and his narrow waist. He’s slender, but not lanky, his dark blond hair looking more honey brown beneath the darkening sky.
The last thing I should be doing is checking him out. Sleeping with a neighbor would only cause trouble. Maybe it’d scratch an itch, but then what? There’s no way we could avoid one another after.
I’m trying not to notice how good his ass looks when he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a rectangular pack.
Is that…?
He smacks it against the heel of his hand, then pulls out…yep, it is. He pulls out a cigarette, then slips the box back into his pocket. He holds the cigarette between his fingers for a few seconds, examining it like he’s contemplating something. Eventually, he clamps his lips around one end and cups his hands around the other, lighting it.
With a sigh I can hear from here, he turns and leans against the railing, ankles crossed. He bows his head, his shoulders rounded in a way that makes him look sad, weary.
That’s when he lifts his head and his eyes meet mine.
Fuck.
I’ve been caught.
And in a bad way. It’s not like he just looked over and saw me. No, he caught me staring.
Kill me now.
A slow smile spreads across his face as he carefully pulls the cigarette from between his lips and waves.
I lift my hand in silent greeting, and when he starts down his porch steps, I curse myself. With each step he takes across the lawn, my heart hammers, and when he steps across the space where one entire fence panel is missing, my cheeks heat.
“Hey,” he says in that deep timbre, sending a shiver down my spine.
I seriously need to get laid. It’s been months. My last encounter was the opposite of memorable, clearly, or I’d remember how long it’s been.
“I haven’t seen you around,” I blurt out like an idiot. Dammit. Now he knows I’ve been paying attention.
He takes another drag from his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and toeing it out in my grass. Before I can crack a joke about littering, he stoops and picks up the butt, then stuffs it into the pocket of his jeans.
“You wouldn’t have. I work in Boston, and I stay there when I’m particularly busy.”
“What do you do?” I point to the chair beside me. “It’s not comfortable, but you can sit.”
With a dip of his chin, he sits. As he settles, his scent washes over me. I have to hold my breath because, damn, he smells good, even with the hint of the cigarette still clinging to his white cotton shirt. His hair is damp, making me think the delicious scent is from his body wash.
“I’m an attorney.” He leans back, the chair creaking beneath his weight.
“Ah,” I breathe out. “I should’ve known.”
Chuckling, he drums his fingers on the arms of the chair. “Why is that?”
“You have that look about you. Lawyer, doctor, architect, finance. Something big and important. ”
He cracks a grin, rubbing his fingers along the stubble lining his jaw. “You think I’m big and important?”
I roll my eyes. “I said you have the look .” We’re quiet for a long moment, my cheeks heating and his attention fixed on me. Eventually, I work up the nerve to ask, “What kind of attorney are you?”
“Family law.” A haunted look crosses his face.
“Tough case?” I pick up my can of soda and take a long swallow. After the day I’ve had—my first at the coffee shop, then coming home to find the house a disaster—I probably need something stronger, but I refuse to touch alcohol. I’ve seen the worst side of it. I’ve seen how easy it is to move on to harder stuff. And I won’t risk it.
“You have no idea.” He lets out a weary sigh. One that sounds a lot like the noise my neighbor used to make. Back when he’d tell me to enjoy being a kid while I could, because adulthood sucked. He’d sit out on his stoop, sighing over everything. I never told him, but even back then, I was long past feeling like a kid. The minute I stepped into the house, I’d be responsible for taking care of my mom and my brothers. That’s why I sat outside talking to him so often. “That’s the reason for the cigarette. I only smoke when I’m feeling particularly troubled.”
“You want to talk about it?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Just a hard case is all. Reunification is typically what we hope for, but in this situation, I don’t believe that’s what’s best for the kids. It’s hard. I have a feeling they’ll be back in the system again.”
On instinct, I peer over my shoulder. On the other side of the sliding-glass door, the living room is awash in the soft glow of the TV, and I can just make out my brothers’ forms on the couch.
“So.” Caleb stretches his legs out, laying his large hands on his knees. “Tell me about your day. Surely it was better than mine.”
I snort, a thread of unease working through me. “Today was my third day at the coffee shop in town, and I managed to mess up nearly every order. I spilled coffee on myself and dropped an entire tray of almond croissants. I’ll be lucky if I’m not fired. I’m not making a good impression.”
I spent my entire lunch break sitting in my car crying. Normally, I’m a master at keeping my shit together, but today got to me. I’m tired of trying so hard and nothing working out in my favor.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.
I shrug. “It is what is.”
Those four words make my chest constrict. I’ve been repeating them to myself for years. There’s no point in wallowing when things don’t go well.
Even if that’s exactly what I came outside to do.
“Still, it’s okay to admit it was a sucky day.”
I sigh. “Fine. Today fucking sucked.”
With a laugh, he crosses his arms over his chest. “Today fucking sucked.”
“So,” I begin, “if you have a place in Boston, why do you have a house here? Seems like it would be more convenient to live in Boston full time.”
“It’s a long story,” he warns, dropping his head back.
I arch a brow, even if he’s not looking at me. “And?”
Sighing, he straightens. “You sure you want it? ”
“Please.” I probably sound too eager, but honestly, my interest has more to do with needing a distraction than anything else.
“I grew up here. My family founded the town generations ago. Somewhere along the way, our last name morphed from Hawthorne to just Thorne.” He rubs at his face, looking more haggard than even a moment ago. Dark circles haunt the space beneath his eyes, and his lids are heavy like he hasn’t slept well in a while. “Anyway, my ex-wife moved back here and got married, so I bought the house next door.”
A bark of laughter bursts out of me. “To what? Torment her?”
The way he flinches makes me instantly wish I could take that back.
“No.” The word escapes him slowly, his eyes fixed on his hands clasped in front of him. “To be close to my daughter. If I stayed in Boston all the time, I’d barely have any time with her. I’m not here as much as I’d like to be, but this way, I get to see her at least once a week.”
“That must be hard.”
Clearly, he cares deeply for his daughter if he’s willing to buy the house next door to his ex to be close to her.
“It is. Our situation is unconventional, to say the least.” He spreads his fingers on his thighs and lets out a long exhale. “But it works for us.”
“How old is she? Your daughter?”
He smiles softly, eyes distant. “Ten.”
“Ten?” I try not to let my shock show. “How old are you? ”
His low chuckle rumbles through me. “Twenty-nine.”
Younger than I thought. When I think about it, I suppose he doesn’t look over thirty, but the way he carries himself and the depth in his eyes make him appear older.
“Wow. I can’t imagine having a baby at nineteen.”
It’s silly to say that, since I’ve been practically raising my brothers since I was nine, but still…
“Life happens.” His reply is simple, and when he drums his fingers on the arms of the chair and looks out at the yard, I know that part of our conversation is over. “I see Thayer got your yard mowed.”
“He really didn’t have to do that.” I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
After doing things on my own for so long, having people I don’t even know offer to help is strange.
“I’m sure he didn’t mind.”
Coming home to a well-manicured lawn after my first day at the coffee shop had been surprisingly nice. The yard still needs a lot of work to look anything like Caleb’s or Thayer’s but this is still a huge upgrade.
Despite the dirt patches and ignore the broken fence.
Gaze averted, I play with the ends of my hair. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t do well with help.”
He laughs, a deep, throaty sound. “I figured that out within five minutes of meeting you.”
“I’m used to fending for myself.”
Caleb’s face softens, his shoulders lowering. “I’m sorry.”
Normally those words make anger simmer in my veins. Pity gets my hackles up. But when I study him, that’s not what I see. No, his expression is full of genuine concern instead.
He assesses me in return, those blue eyes seeing more than I want them to. It makes sense, I guess, knowing what he does. He probably sees right through me. He probably clocked our situation the night we met.
His eyes hold mine, the blue a gentle, swaying current. “You won’t have to keep fending yourself. Not here. We all look after each other.”
I flinch. “I’m not from here. None of you really know me.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He stands and stretches, his white t-shirt riding up, showing off just a sliver of skin above his waistband. “You’re one of us now.”
Without another word, he turns and saunters back over to his house. At his back door, he lifts his hand in a wave, then he ducks inside.
After the door has shut, I say, “I’m not so sure about that.”