Chapter 29 Nora
NORA
Alex: Need to see you.
I smile the stupid, goofy, falling-in-love smile that I’m sure has been on my face on and off all day when I read Alex’s text.
I need to see him too. I need to kiss him. At least.
Nora: On my way to the park for otter club, actually. You’re invited!
Alex: damn. I can’t resist that. Can we talk there?
Nora: Of course. Otherwise, you can have me all to yourself tonight.
I’m, of course, hoping that he wants me all to himself tonight anyway.
We obviously can’t make out heavily at the park, but I can definitely get a kiss.
Or three. The town thinks we’re dating anyway, and just because this is all starting to feel a lot more real is no reason to hold back now.
I wanted to kiss him before, and now that we’ve slept together, I can barely think about anything else.
Alex: See you soon.
Okay, he can’t wait until tonight to see me either. That makes me feel warm and melty.
“Heading to the park if you need me,” I say to Sutton as I pass her desk. All of my supplies for otter club are already in the wagon out front.
“Sounds good. Let me know if you need anything,” she says.
“Alex is stopping by,” I tell her with a smile. “He can be my assistant if I need anything.”
She gives me a wink. “Oh, I’m sure he can provide all kinds of things you need. Just don’t get too distracted. Someone needs to keep things organized.”
I laugh with her. Otter club is arguably one of our more chaotic clubs. I doubt very much if anyone participating or observing would think there was anything organized about it.
Even though I walk the three blocks from City Hall to the park, pulling my wagon of supplies, I still get there before Alex. But plenty of people are already gathered.
“Hi, Nora,” Greg and Donna greet.
“Hi, you two. Here you go,” I say, handing over one of the small, bright yellow canvas tote bags from the cart.
They take it and head across the park to a bench.
“Hi, Nora, how are you?” Marilyn Walker asks as I hand her a bag.
“I’m great. How are you? Is your ankle feeling better?”
She picks up her foot and rotates it. “A little better every day.” She heads off for one of the picnic tables, where she’ll be joined shortly by a couple of her friends after they pick up their bags.
I hand out five more bags before I notice Alex striding across the grass.
I give him a little wave, which he returns.
He stops several feet away, just observing.
I continue handing out the tote bags to the people who formed the short line in front of me, greeting each of them and exchanging small talk before they disperse throughout the park.
Finally, it’s just Alex and me. There are three bags left. I grab the handle of the wagon and start for a bench under one of the trees near the stream. “Come on, we can sit over here,” I tell him.
He falls into step next to me, taking the handle of the wagon from me and linking his fingers with my free hand as we walk. It’s silly, but my stomach flips over at the casual way he touches me.
We settle onto a bench, and I hand over one of the tote bags. He looks inside, then gives me the quizzical glance that I’m expecting.
“What is this about?”
I laugh and pull an item out of my bag. It’s a mini screwdriver. I also have a small bunch of dried flowers, and a biodegradable plastic bag with sardines inside. Alex withdraws a mini flashlight, a used-up toilet paper tube, and a small package of dry cat food from his bag.
“All you have to do is set the bag on the ground, kind of over to the side where it looks like it belongs to you, but you’re not really paying attention to it.” I do exactly that with my bag, setting it on the end of the bench, then crossing my legs and angling my body away from the bag.
He sets his on the ground just under the bench, then turns to me.
“This is otter club?”
I grin and nod. “Wait for it.” I point to the bench where Greg and Donna are sitting. An otter is already approaching the yellow bag sitting next to their bench.
The otter rummages inside the bag, finds an item, pulls it out, then scampers off toward the bank of the stream where its den is located.
“What is this?” Alex says with a chuckle.
“Our otters are pickpockets,” I tell him, watching for his reaction.
His grin grows, and he meets my gaze. “Really?”
“Really. They used to steal things out of bags, purses, backpacks, whatever they could get into. Anything that got set down for too long. Even lunch bags. So, besides warning everyone not to bring bags that are easily opened to the park, and certainly not to leave them unattended, we’ve trained the otters that these yellow bags are fair game.
Each bag has a few little items in it—some things they can mess with, some just junk that they’ll play with and then will biodegrade, and some food.
But the otters can take whatever they want.
They take the stuff back to their dens and hoard it. ”
I laugh at the look on Alex’s face. It’s a mix of bewilderment and delight.
“And they can actually tell the difference between these bags and just regular duffel bags or purses?”
“Well, if you bring a bag to the park and leave it somewhere and walk off, you’re going to get something stolen,” I say. “But over time we’ve trained the otters that the yellow bags are for them.”
“And these same otters have just stayed here?”
“Well, there are new ones, of course, from time to time. But the ones that have been around teach the new ones. They especially like shiny things, and seemingly things with switches and buttons. Like the little flashlight.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see an otter start to approach us.
“Do we need to stay really still?” Alex asks quietly.
I shake my head and laugh, looking over at the animal. “They’re pretty used to all of us being around. They don’t get spooked easily.”
We watch as the otter opens the bag and reaches inside. He first pulls out the screwdriver and seems very interested, but then replaces it and takes out the fish instead. He scampers off as I laugh.
“They do most often go for food. But not always.”
“Do you find stuff scattered around?” Alex asks.
I nod. “For sure. And floating in the stream, since a lot of their burrows are right along the banks. We just gather it up and then use it again some other time.”
He sighs, and the sound is almost sad. I look up at him. “Are you okay?”
He looks at me for a long moment. “I have become very fond of this little town. And I have a feeling there’s a lot more to learn about it.”
I nod. “All of the holidays are a big deal here. Just wait for Halloween. And Christmas. We do an annual Christmas competition in town called Merry Mayhem. It’s three days long and involves an obstacle course, a relay race, and several other little contests. It’s a ton of fun.”
He blows out a breath. “I need to tell you something.”
My smile immediately dies. His tone of voice and expression both tell me that I’m not going to like whatever this is. I turn on the bench to face him, pulling one leg up and tucking it under the other.
“What happened?”
“Declan called me last night. While I was with you. Several times. I only had a chance to talk to him this morning.”
I reach out and rest my hand on his arm. His muscles bunch under my touch. “What’s going on?”
“One of the assistant coaches for the Grays was arrested last night.”
I can feel my eyes go wide. “Arrested?”
“Yeah. By the FBI.”
“Oh…wow.”
“He was involved in a huge sports gambling ring. There are people from a lot of sports involved. It’s kind of shaking up professional sports.”
I nod. “I can imagine. I’m sure Declan’s pretty pissed.”
“Very. And worried about the team.”
“Understandable.”
“Their opening game is on Thursday.”
And I instantly know what’s happening. “And he offered you the job,” I say, without adding a question mark.
Alex rubs his palms up and down his thighs.
“Yes. Not only am I able to step in immediately, but he thinks it will help calm the players and the fans. And it will give the press something else to talk about. I know the playbook, all the players, the other coaches. It would be a very easy transition.”
My heart is kicking against my ribs so hard it hurts. My head feels a little dizzy. My stomach is in a knot. But still I say, “That makes sense.” Because it does. Of course, Declan needs Alex to come back. “When do you need to leave?” I ask, happy that my voice wavers only slightly.
He looks genuinely torn up as he meets my gaze. “This afternoon.”
I feel like he just reached into my chest, grabbed my heart, and squeezed.
I try to take a deep breath, but can’t force air into my lungs because my chest is too tight.
“Oh,” is all I can manage.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Wildflower,” he says, his shoulders slumping. “We were supposed to have more time.”
He’s going to miss the Revelers’ first game, too. Opening night is Friday.
I don’t know what to say or do. I want to tell him that I’m falling for him. But that isn’t fair. And what good would that do anyway?
“This is what you wanted,” I tell him. “It’s what you were hoping for. It’s good that it’s happening even sooner, isn’t it?”
He drags in a deep breath. “It doesn’t feel good.”
“It’s still sinking in,” I tell him. “As soon as you’re back in Portland, it will all feel… perfect.”
I stumble slightly over that word. I don’t think Portland is perfect for him.
He was alone there. Oh, the city loved him, he had teammates, everyone knew who he was.
But I don’t think anyone knew him. He was a hockey player there.
But there’s so much more to him. And I think even Alex is just now figuring that out.
Still, I force a smile. “You’ll get right back to your usual routines. It will feel natural in no time.” I clear my throat. “I mean, that’s home.”
I hate the way my voice breaks a little bit on that last word.
He frowns. “Yeah. That makes sense.”