35. Alice
ALICE
Colt’s eyes are locked on the mug, ensuring the coffee doesn’t spill as he nears my bed.
He carefully positions the tray over my lap, and I push myself upright.
This morning, he’s made two pieces of thick French toast dusted in powdered sugar, a side of bacon, and a bowl of sliced strawberries.
I doubt very seriously that he cooks this way for himself.
I catch his hand, squeezing it. “You don’t have to keep doing this.”
Colt lowers into the chair he placed beside my bed two days ago, right after getting me home from the hospital.
He’s barely left my side since, despite my protests that I’m fine.
His hand moves to my cheek, and he strokes the skin there.
There are worry lines around his eyes, an unmistakable fear stretched across his features. The look on his face says he failed me.
But the only person who has failed is me.
I lean into his touch, feeling like I should make a joke to lighten the burden he’s wrongly placed on his shoulders.
But I can’t summon the energy. Ever since last Saturday night, I’ve felt heavy.
Like it takes too much energy to do anything.
And I’m ashamed of that. I should be able to bounce back like I always have.
But everything about building this bookshop has been so much harder than I ever expected.
And I risked my parents’ money and Colt’s time along the way.
If this dream were meant to be, wouldn’t it have been easier than this?
My parents never looked as disappointed in me as they did last Saturday.
As if they’d allowed themselves to believe that I might actually come through.
And when I’d failed to deliver a finished bookshop, they’d been frustrated that they now had to parent me instead of celebrating my independence.
I’d proved, once again, that while I have copious ideas, I am incapable of execution.
And then there was Colt. Wanting him was the easiest thing in the world. That man unraveled me, and made me feel whole. He set me on fire, and then burned beside me. He told me to leap, and then built my dream with his own two hands.
And yet here he was, slipping through my fingers.
“Do you need anything else? More water?” He reaches for the bottle by my bed and shakes it, seeming disappointed that it doesn’t need refilling.
“I’m good.” I force a smile onto my lips. “Actually, I do need—”
“What?” Colt leans in. “What can I do?”
I tilt my head on the pillow, my heart in my throat. We should talk about us, discuss what happens when he leaves. But all I can manage as my head throbs is, “Kiss me?”
Colt closes the distance between us at once, his mouth capturing mine.
He kisses me with fervor, his hands grasping my face, as if he’s afraid I’ll suddenly vanish.
Our tongues brush, lips moving gently, and then with more urgency.
For a moment, I don’t think about how Colt leaving will shatter me.
I only focus on the feel of his mouth against mine, the way his touch engulfs my mind.
Colt stops, pressing his forehead to mine. “Alice,” he says, his voice a rasp. “I can’t stop thinking about—” There’s a knock at the front door, and Colt jerks backward, his eyes darting to the window. “I’ll be right back,” he says. “Eat. Please.”
As his footsteps echo on the stairs, I close my eyes, willing my head to stop aching.
The dull pain comes and goes, along with bouts of dizziness, especially if I’m on my feet for more than a few minutes.
All symptoms that should resolve within a few days, the doctor said.
I’d been lucky, according to the nurse, to only need skin glue instead of stitches.
But I don’t feel lucky. I feel like an idiot.
I pick up a piece of bacon, but before I can bite into it, there’s a thunderous sound and then two women tumbling into the room.
“We’re here!” Maggie announces.
June holds up a bag. “And I brought bagels! Oh. You already have food. Did Colt make that?” June leans over my tray, examining his work. “Not bad. This is the color you want on French toast. Though if he wanted, he could—”
“June.” Maggie takes hold of June’s shoulders. “Concussion.”
“Right.” June drops down in the chair, placing the bagels on the nightstand.
Maggie sits on the edge of the bed, her hand coming to rest on my leg. “How are you feeling?”
“You mean since you saw me yesterday?” I smile, feeling lighter now that they’re here. “Ten feet tall and bulletproof.”
“Should we test that theory?” Maggie pokes my stomach like she’s making bullet holes.
I grunt, almost laughing, but it dies in my chest. Nodding toward the bag, I say, “Hit me with one of those.”
June lights up and dives her arms in, producing a bagel swirled with cinnamon and packed with cranberries. I take a bite because I know it will please her. It’s rich and gooey and golden brown, but I find myself struggling to swallow.
“It’s incredible,” I murmur.
June points at Maggie. “Told you she’d love them.”
Maggie rolls her eyes. “So? Has Colt heard from Warren?”
I shake my head and keep my voice low. “Not yet. But I’m not sure if—”
“I still can’t believe that guy. Such a prick,” Maggie continues. “That dude thinks because he’s all huge and has that…hair…and those…eyes…that he can just do whatever he wants. That’s how guys like that are. And all that aggression? It’s honestly really concerning.”
June smiles knowingly, but remains quiet.
“What?” Maggie looks back and forth between me and June. “I’m serious. That guy’s a walking red flag.” She gives a full-body shiver and then pats my knee. “But don’t you worry about him. Or about anything else, for that matter.”
“Just worry about your bagel,” June suggests.
Maggie nods to that.
“Did you bring the route plans?” I ask.
Maggie rolls her eyes and groans. “Woman? What did I just say?” But she produces a folder from her bag anyway and flips it open. “Yes, I brought it. I do as I’m told. But you really don’t need to think about this right now. There are nine days until the festival.”
“Exactly. Nine days is nothing.” I spread out the sheets, relieved to be of value after my soft opening flop and an injury that has Colt and my friends waiting on me hand and foot. “You found someone to do pickups?”
“Dalton says he’ll handle them,” June confirms. “He’s going to take them directly from the river to the Hall, which makes sense and will boost his business.”
I nod to this. “And they can walk to the nearby shops from there.”
“Right,” Maggie agrees.
I sort through the pages, asking questions as they come to me until my head starts to throb. When I close my eyes for a brief moment, June touches my shoulder. “Alice, honey, are you sure you don’t want us to call your family and tell them what happened?”
“No,” I say quietly. “They’ll just worry. And I’m fine. Everything is fine.” But the words ring hollow, even to me. And when I open my eyes and see Maggie and June’s concerned faces, fine is the last thing I feel.
Colt appears in the doorway, nervous fingers tapping the threshold. “Alice, maybe you should rest now. The doctor said to avoid concentrating on anything for too long.”
Maggie looks up, her eyes narrowing as she takes him in. “Colt. Have you slept?”
When he gives an entirely unconvincing nod, she stands from the bed and moves toward him. Her tone turns hushed but insistent, and she guides him away from the doorway. She must imagine I can’t hear her out there, but Grant and I learned as kids that our voices carry in the hallway.
“I’m good,” Colt insists. “I have to stay awake to make sure she doesn’t—”
“You’re no use to her if you don’t sleep,” Maggie replies.
Colt says something I don’t catch, and when Maggie responds, her voice is firm. “I understand you better than you know. Trust me.”
My brow furrows at that, and when I glance at June, she looks equally confused as she strokes my hand.
Their voices raise, strained with concern, and I turn my head on the pillow, facing away from June. The movement triggers a pounding at my temples as I listen to their argument. To the sound of two people who care about me so much that it’s hurting them.
June squeezes my arm. “They’re just worried about you.”
I want to tell her that they shouldn’t be. That I’m okay. I want to bolt upright and devise a plan that entails charging ahead. Tackling these next nine days with a leader’s evangelism to ensure that the bookshop’s opening, and the Fall Festival, is a spectacular success.
But instead, I just close my eyes.