Chapter 12
Alexis
I don’t know what Dex has in mind, but I kind of want to find out as I put on my coat, gloves, and scarf.
I glance down at Marvel, curled in his makeshift bed, eyes half-closed, purring. “Be good while I’m gone, okay?” I whisper. He tilts his tiny head like he understands, and I can’t help but smile before leaving him behind.
I make my way downstairs, and as soon as I step outside, the cold bites at my cheeks as I pull on my beanie.
Dex is waiting by the passenger door, the truck already running.
He opens the door for me and helps me in, then walks around to the driver’s side and gets in.
His scent fills the truck and strangely puts me at ease.
The dull ache in my heart is still there, but the panic and confusion have eased a little.
“So where’s this pastry shop?” Dex asks as he pulls away.
“What?” I turn to look at him.
“The one with your dad’s favorite scones?”
“You’re driving me to Boulder Flats?” Dex just shrugs. “It’s blue day,” he says, as if that is all the explanation I need.
I watch him as he drives, trying to make sense of him, and I can’t. One minute he’s scolding me for something at work, irritating the hell out of me in the apartment just for fun, making me want to strangle him, and then… this .
“It’s Nana’s Oven, in Boulder Flats… but, Dex, it’s more than a two-hour drive…” I look out the window. “In this weather, you really don’t have to…”
Dex puts his hand on my cheek, making me stop talking.
“I have it on good authority that we both have the rest of the day off.” He winks.
I sigh. “You’re… I… thank you,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
Dex glances at me, smirks, then turns to the console and puts the address in.
We listen to some of Dex’s playlist, and he asks, “Tell me about your dad.”
That’s how we spend the whole trip, talking about him.
I tell Dex about my dad’s obsession with movies and their soundtracks, especially Ennio Morricone, how he taught us to play poker and gin, how he loved nature and the summers we spent camping, teaching us about herbs and how beneficial they were.
Dex listens and nods, asking questions every time I pause, showing me he’s truly listening and making my pain feel…
seen . After years of only having my little brother to share this painful day with, having someone else step into it like this, steady and present, feels unfamiliar in a way that settles somewhere deep in my chest.
We arrive at Nana’s Oven after two and a half hours.
We park, and Dex opens my door.
“You don’t have to do that, you know.”
“I want to,” is all he says as we walk into Nana’s Oven.
The familiar smells hit me like a sweet punch to the stomach, making me both love and hate them. Ellen, the sixty-something woman, is still working behind the counter.
“Lexy!” she gasps as soon as she sees me and walks over. “How are you?” She pulls me into an embrace, then looks me over. “You lost weight?”
“Hello, Ellen. I’m okay. How are you?” I smile at her.
“I’m good, and happy you’re here.” She turns to look at Dex, her eyes running over him. “And who’s this young man?”
I smile. “This is Dex, my boss.” Ellen looks at me confused, so I add, “I work at his bar in Lander now.”
Ellen nods, then looks at Dex. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Dex.”
Dex shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you too… Ellen.”
She smiles. “Pleasure’s all mine.”
She turns back to me. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it here today, you know, with Mason at college and all…” She walks behind the counter filled with pastries, ducks down, then comes back up holding a box. “But I decided to prepare this anyway.”
I look at the box, then back at her. “You remembered?”
She smiles. “Of course.” I take the box from her.
“How much do I owe you?” I ask, reaching into my jacket pocket for the tips I’ve made these past weeks working for Dex.
“I got it,” Dex says, but Ellen shakes her head.
“No, this is on the house.” She looks at me with knowing eyes. “Peter was a good man.”
I fight the tears as I nod. “Thank you, Ellen. This…” I trail off.
“No need to thank me. Repay me by coming by from time to time.” She smiles. Then she turns to Dex. “And bring this handsome young man with you.” She winks.
? ? ?
We arrive at the cemetery, and as I look through the windshield, it’s fully covered in snow. I can barely make out the gravestones, and my heart sinks.
“Dex, I don’t think we can…”
“Don’t worry about it.” Dex climbs out of the truck, walks to the back, and pulls out a big shovel. I stare, shocked, as he comes around and opens my door.
A knowing grin on his face. “Figured we’d need this,” he says, nodding toward the shovel.
I just shake my head, at a loss for words, as I climb out of the truck.
The cemetery is quiet. Big trees stand over hundreds of gravestones like they’re protecting them. I can’t make out the headstones in the snow, but I know the layout by heart. Slowly, I walk to the oak tree I know is next to my father’s grave. Dex follows behind me quietly.
The closer I get, the more the wound grows, the one shaped like my father. Tears start to gather in my eyes as I finally make out his gravestone beneath the snow.
“He’s here,” I whisper, pointing at it.
Dex nods and starts shoveling the snow around it, then helps me clear the entire stone. My father’s name, Peter Vale, comes into view, and his smiling picture greets me.
“Hi, Dad,” I whisper as I place my gloved hand on the cold stone.
“I’ll give you some time with him.” Dex hands me the box of scones, then walks away toward a row of fallen soldiers’ graves twenty or so feet away, somehow knowing I need a little time alone with my dad.
“I miss you.” My voice cracks as tears flow down my cheeks, leaving cold tracks behind.
“That’s Dex,” I whisper, pointing to where he stands. He’s not looking my way. “He’s my new boss, and he’s helping me out.” I shrug, then look back at my dad’s gravestone.
“I wish I could come more often.” I run my hand over the cold stone, tracing the letters as if feeling their shape could bring him back. I remember Mason and me with our blankets, our picnic, talking to Dad as if he could answer us. Today, Dex is giving me a little of that again.
The wind blows gently, snowflakes drifting down like tiny pieces of memory. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and just… let it be.
We stay there until I can feel my toes freezing, then make our way back to the truck. The snow is picking up.
“Thank you for this,” I whisper once we’re inside.
“Don’t worry about it.” Dex shrugs as he starts the engine.
My phone rings, and the second I see the number, my stomach drops.
Lou’s bar.
There’s only one reason they call me.
I close my eyes for a brief second before answering. “Hello.”
“Lexy, I’m sorry, but your mom…” Lou sighs, heavy and tired, and he doesn’t have to finish the sentence. He never does.
This isn’t the first time.
“I understand,” I say quietly.
I glance over at Dex, who’s already gone out of his way for me today, already done more than he should have.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Lexy,” Lou adds, his voice lower now, more serious, “she’s worse than the last time.”
My grip tightens around the phone.
That tells me everything I need to know.
“I’ll be right there.”
I hang up before he can say anything else.
For a second, I just sit there, staring out the window, my thoughts scrambling, trying to find a way out of this. A way to fix it without dragging anyone else into it.
There isn’t one.
“What do you need, Tinker?” Dex asks, his voice steady, like he already knows this isn’t nothing.
I swallow, forcing myself to look at him. “It’s my mom. She…” My gaze drifts back to the road. “She’s at a bar and needs to be taken home.”
There’s a pause, brief but heavy.
Then Dex nods once and turns the car around without another question.
“Where to?”
I give him the directions, each word tasting bitter in my mouth, shame settling low and uncomfortable in my chest.
I don’t want him to see this. I don’t want him to see any of it.
But I don’t have a choice.
We pull up in front of Lou’s bar, the flickering neon sign buzzing faintly above the door, casting everything in that sickly red glow I remember too well.
I’ve been here more times than I can count. Mason used to come with me when they called, because I never knew if she’d walk out on her own or if we’d have to carry her.
Tonight, I already know.
“Stay here,” I mutter out of habit as I reach for the door handle.
Dex doesn’t even acknowledge that. He’s already out of the truck by the time I step onto the pavement.
Of course he is.
The warmth from the truck disappears instantly, replaced by the stale, heavy smell that leaks out the second we push the door open.
Beer. Sweat. Something sour underneath it all.
Lou looks up from behind the counter, relief flashing across his face when he sees me.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, wiping his hands on a rag as he walks around the bar. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I answer automatically, even though it’s not. It never is.
I follow his gaze to the far end of the counter.
My mom is slumped over, her head resting on her folded arms, blonde hair tangled and dull under the dim lights.
For a second, I just stand there.
This used to be the woman who braided my hair before school. Who packed lunches. Who laughed in the kitchen.
Sometimes I still see her. On the rare days she’s sober, when she smiles like she used to, like nothing ever broke. But those moments… they’re getting harder to find.
Now it’s mostly this. The shell of her.
I tried. God , I tried. Rehab. Therapy. Begging. Fighting.
At some point, I had to choose. Hold on to a sinking ship… or make sure Mason didn’t drown with her.
I chose him.
Doesn’t mean I stopped hoping. Just means… I stopped breaking myself trying to save her.
“Mama,” I say softly, stepping closer as I place a hand on her shoulder and give it a gentle shake.
She stirs, groaning, then lifts her head.