Chapter 2
ALEC
I hope none of my friends saw me walking Hazel to her car.
It’s not that I’m embarrassed to be seen with her. Far from it.
But if my friends saw me with Hazel—the two of us alone, no less, walking off into the darkness together—some of them would get the wrong idea.
Not the guys. But their partners would. And the matchmaking they’ve been pushing in earnest would escalate to a fever pitch.
I get it. All my coupled-up friends are so blissfully happy—nice play on words there—that they’re convinced everyone should be in a relationship. It’s something Ronan and I have talked about as the two remaining single guys on the GMG team.
“I’m happy for them,” Ronan told me a few weeks ago, after Gage’s fiancée, Rory, suggested setting him up with a volunteer at her dog rescue.
“But I’m happy being single. It works for me.
” He paused, his gaze darkening at a far off memory.
“I tried the whole relationship thing,” he added. “I’d rather not do it again.”
Ronan doesn’t talk about it much, and he never goes into details, but I know he had a fiancée once who burned him badly.
Ever since, he’s been determined to stay single.
Like me, he’ll make the occasional trip into Burlington for a casual hookup—Bliss is too small of a town to risk that here—but that’s as far as it goes.
I wasn’t burned by a woman, but I’m happier staying single, too. Fewer complications that way. Fewer chances of discovering a person you trusted could betray you without any warning.
Plus, my life is busy enough as it is. Between running my company, fulfilling my duties at Green Mountain Guardians, taking care of my house, and spending time with my friends, I can’t see having time for anything else.
Almost in protest, Hazel’s blue eyes flash before me, a stormy Atlantic blue tipped with silver. Lighting up with pleasure, as they did when she talked about her game, chasing away the shadows I’ve seen within.
She tries to hide them, and I don’t think most people would notice. But I do, because I feel that same darkness. The pain of old wounds that never completely healed.
Hazel intrigues me. Of all the women I’ve met in Bliss—all the women I’ve met, period—she’s the only one I could picture myself with, if things were different.
If I were different.
Although it might not matter, even then. In the three years Hazel’s lived in Bliss, she’s remained just as single as me. I’ve never even heard a whisper about her dating, and if she were, in a small town like this, I’m sure I would have.
If she wanted to date, I’m certain there would be a long line of volunteers.
Because Hazel isn’t just nice and smart and quietly funny, but beautiful, too.
With long, shiny brown hair that changes from chestnut to red depending on how the light hits it, those gorgeous blue eyes, and cheeks that pink up whenever she smiles, it’s impossible to ignore just how pretty she is.
And her body…
Hazel’s in shape—she’d have to be considering her job, and she mentioned once that she works out on her own at least four days a week—but there’s a lushness to her, too. A promise of curves hidden by loose T-shirts and worn jeans that makes me wonder what she’d look like without them.
With a quick shake of my head, I try to push aside the images of Hazel naked, stretched out beneath me, her skin flushed with arousal and desire heating her gaze.
I’m not trying to date, I remind myself. I’ve got plenty to focus on without it. And Hazel’s not the one-night-hookup type.
Anyway, I probably just need to make another trip to Burlington soon.
Hit the bars and hopefully find a woman who’s interested in a no-strings evening, just like I am.
I could even make the trip this coming weekend, which would have the added bonus of pacifying my GMG teammates who’ve been nagging me to take some time off.
But with three of the five members of the team in relationships, it just makes sense for me to take on more jobs so they can spend time with their partners. I don’t mind doing it, especially if it helps out my friends.
Plus, I really enjoy my work with Green Mountain Guardians. It brings back a purpose I lost when I separated from the Army. Helping people. Protecting them. Making sure justice is served.
But we don’t have any jobs—paid or pro-bono—lined up for this weekend. So all I have to look forward to is a stretch of hours puttering around my empty house, searching for home improvement projects to do.
Maybe, after sating my needs in Burlington, I won’t think about Hazel as much.
Except.
Why does the idea of it make me feel guilty?
Is it because of the way Hazel looked when she first saw me in the park, like seeing me was the best part of her night? Or how she blushed so adorably when Frank volunteered me to walk her to her car? Is it because I enjoyed our conversation even more than I expected?
Is it because a small part of me wishes I’d asked her to share the soup Frank gave me? Maybe invited Hazel to my place for dinner and a glass of wine? Asked her more questions about the game she was so enthusiastic about?
Maybe—
But before I can complete the thought, something else grabs me.
Maybe a hundred yards up ahead, where the road takes a sharp turn, my headlights catch something that doesn’t look right.
It takes me a second to realize in the darkness.
The guardrail. It’s not smooth and uninterrupted, like it usually is.
It’s broken. Torn.
Slowing as I approach, I get a better look at the damage. Alarm jolts through me.
This doesn’t look like a car just glanced off it.
It looks like a car went right through.
Shit.
If there was an accident, did it just happen? Or have the police already been and left?
But if they had, wouldn’t they have put up traffic cones as a warning? Some kind of temporary barrier?
Am I the first to come upon it?
Even during the day, this isn’t a busy road. And when I travel it at night, many times I’m the only one on it. So it’s possible…
But.
My heart stumbles.
Hazel.
She drives this way. What if—
No. Don’t jump to conclusions.
I pull off the road just before I reach the broken guardrail and turn on my hazards. Then I hop out, leaving the car still running, and jog towards the river’s edge.
With each step, my worry increases. My adrenaline surges.
I want to believe it’s nothing. But there’s a heavy feeling in my gut that tells me it isn’t.
It’s the same terrible, nauseated feeling I’d get when we were on an op and things were about to go sideways. It’s the same feeling I had right before everything I believed fell apart in an instant.
And once I get to the grassy slope that leads to the river, my gut is proven right.
There.
In the water.
Two tail lights still glow from a partially-submerged car.
Shit.
I dig in my pocket as I scramble down the hill, yanking out my phone and calling 911.
As soon as the dispatcher picks up, I break into her greeting with a crisp, “I’m out on Route 5, about five miles south of Morrisville.
Right where the road curves around the river.
There’s a car in the water. It’s nearly submerged. Get someone out here. Quickly.”
As the dispatcher starts peppering me with questions, I flick on the little mag-lite I have attached to my keychain and shine it at the car. I’m not sure what I’m hoping to see—the rear window still above the waterline, with a person’s face pressed to it, or—
No. I know what I’m hoping.
That it’s not a Subaru. That the car isn’t light greenish gray with a Blissful Brews sticker on the rear bumper. That it couldn’t be Hazel’s car…
Fuck.
Fuck.
It’s her car.
Hazel’s car is in the water.
Sinking.
A whirlwind of thoughts spins by in a blink.
It’ll take the police at least ten minutes to get out here. Even then, they won’t be able to go right into the water. They’ll need equipment. Boats. Divers. Shit—
The car probably still has air inside it. But for how long?
Is Hazel unconscious in there? Badly injured? Bleeding out?
Is she already—
No.
And I’m not going to just stand here, doing nothing.
Not when I have the skills to help.
Once the idea takes root, it sprouts quickly.
Already, I’m moving.
Peeling off my wool sweater and tossing it to the side.
Dropping my phone beside it.
Mentally running through strategies depending on what I find in the car.
Just before I hit the water, I tear off my shoes so they don’t weigh me down.
Then I plow through the icy water until I’m deep enough to swim.
It’s breath-stoppingly cold, which isn’t a surprise given that it’s mid-October.
But I’m prepared to handle extreme situations.
Even though I was Army—Green Berets, more specifically—I still underwent extensive water training.
And though I’ve been out for four years, I’ve never slacked off on my conditioning.
I can get to her car. Even with the frigid temperature, I’ve got plenty of time before hypothermia sets in.
But what condition will Hazel be in when I get there? Can I get her out? Will she be conscious and able to help me?
Shit. I wish I had more tools on me. But all I have is my Ka-Bar switchblade, which I never go anywhere without. And I’m not sure if that’s going to be any help.
With powerful strokes, I approach Hazel’s car. But the closer I get, the faster it seems to sink. By the time I’m twenty feet from it, the tail lights are barely above the water. Which means a rescue is going to be even more difficult.
By the time I reach her car, it’s fully submerged.
Despite my best attempts to stay calm, fear beats at me.
What if I can’t—
No, can’t isn’t an acceptable answer. I will.
Once I dive beneath the surface, it takes a moment for my vision to adjust. The tail lights help, their glow breaking through the thick darkness. As I close in on the rear window, I say a silent prayer.
Please. Let her still be alive.
And then.
I see her.
Wedged in the backseat, pounding at the window with one hand.
Alive.