Chapter 3 #2
My chest squeezes at his remorseful expression. “No, you’re fine. You didn’t say anything wrong.” Stepping back, I ask, “Do you want to come in?”
He glances over my shoulder, his gaze scanning my small living room, lingering on my laptop and crumpled blanket on the couch. “If you’re busy…”
“I’m not.” I gesture for him to come inside. “I was just watching TV. Nothing exciting.”
After a moment, he steps through the doorway, pausing to turn and lock the door behind him. Then he touches my lower back as he guides me towards the couch, saying, “I’ve kept you standing long enough. You should be resting.”
I was resting until I got up to answer the door, but I’m not going to mention that.
Instead, I’m going to memorize just how nice it feels to have him touch me again, the heat of his big hand spanning my back. I’m going to tuck away these memories to pull up later, when I’m struggling to sleep through the bad ones.
Once we’re both seated on the couch, Alec takes the blanket and tucks it back over my legs.
Then he grabs the paper bag he set on the coffee table and pulls several cartons and containers out of it, arranging them in a neat line.
Following that, he retrieves a stack of napkins and several to-go packets of silverware and sets them to the side.
“I know you have silverware,” he explains. “Obviously. But I thought you might not want to deal with washing it after. So I grabbed these just in case.”
Not for the first time, I wonder how in the world Alec is still single. Was he burned by a woman? Is he a commitment-phobe?
Or maybe he’s not single. Maybe he has a long-distance girlfriend. Although, wouldn’t I have seen her around town at some point? Or at least heard people talking about her?
Why do I care?
Is it any of my business if Alec is dating?
My jaw tightens at the whispered truth in my head.
No, it’s not my business. But, foolishly, I care anyway.
“I got their home style chicken soup,” Alec adds, touching one of the containers. “And some vegetable beef stew.” He grins. “You might be sick of soups and stews after yesterday, but I thought your body temperature might still be trying to adjust.”
“A little,” I admit. Leaning forward, I lift the lid of the chicken soup and take a deep inhale. “That smells delicious.”
He grins. “My mom swears chicken soup cures everything. I don’t know about that, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.”
It’s not the first time Alec’s mentioned his family, and suddenly I’m seized with curiosity about them. Who are his parents and how did they raise such a great guy? What about his sister, who loves Taylor Swift? Does he have other siblings? Pets?
“Do you see your mom often?” I ask.
Alec opens one of the silverware packets and hands the spoon to me. Then he passes over the container of chicken soup. Obediently, I take a spoonful, feeling the warmth of it absorb into my body.
“I try to go back home once a month,” he replies. “My mom and dad still live in Boston, so it’s not too long of a trip. Sometimes things come up with work, and I can’t get away, so they’ll come out here when that happens.”
A twinge of longing hits me at the affectionate tone in his voice. Without him saying anything more, I can tell his relationship with his parents is a good one. Still, I find myself asking, “So, you’re close to your parents?”
Alec leans back and stretches. His leg bumps mine. My pulse skips. “Yeah. Being in the Army, I didn’t see them as much as I’d like. Traveling overseas so much, you know? But since I’ve been living in Vermont, it’s easier to visit.”
I take another sip of soup. “What about your sister? The one who likes Taylor Swift? Is she your only sibling? Or do you have others?”
“It’s just me and Andrea. She lives in Marlborough with her husband and kids. They’ve got a little girl, Julia, who just turned four. And Ryder’s two.” He smiles. “So that’s another plus to living here. I get to see my niece and nephew grow up.”
Images of Alec come to life; playing tea party with his niece or gentle catch with his nephew, laughing at their antics and his eyes lighting up with pleasure. “That sounds really nice,” I tell him. “I’m glad you have family close by.”
Alec picks up a cardboard carton from the coffee table and opens it, revealing half-a-dozen buttery breadsticks inside. He offers one to me, then takes one for himself. He polishes it off in three bites, then asks, “What about you? I know you mentioned your dad…”
“It’s just me now. For a long time, it was me and my dad. He worked as a high school science teacher in Bennington, where I grew up, which was nice because he had nights, weekends, and summers off to spend time with me. My mother…”
Alec touches my arm. His gaze softens. “You don’t have to talk about her.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s been a long time, anyway.” I set the half-finished soup off to the side. “She left when I was ten. She was a receptionist at a gym nearby, and she ended up cheating on my dad with one of the trainers. They moved to Tampa not long after.”
“Shit, Hazel. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Why did I tell him all that? I could have just said my parents split up and left it alone. But there’s just something about Alec that makes me want to open up to him.
“It’s okay,” I reassure him. “Like I said, it was a long time ago.” I tuck my legs up pretzel-style beneath the blanket, brushing against Alec’s leg in the process.
“My dad passed away six years ago from a heart attack. I call my mother a few times a year to check in, but we’re not close. Not like you and your parents are.”
I couldn’t bring myself to keep up the pretense of a close relationship with my mother—not mom, she lost that title when she up and left with no regard to how her husband and young daughter would feel—so I call out of familial obligation, not because I particularly want to.
Alec frowns at the TV for a few seconds. Then he turns back to me. “So. Your game. Tenebris Veil. I looked it up last night. It seems pretty fun. What got you into playing?”
For abrupt topic changes, it’s not a bad one. And I’d much rather talk about my game than my disappointing lack of family.
“It was just after I moved here,” I reply. “I happened to see an ad for Tenebris Veil online, and it seemed interesting. Pictures of flying horses and fire-breathing dragons and elves casting colorful spells. There was a free trial, so I figured, why not?”
And I was desperate to find something that would take my mind off the reason I left Boston. Something steeped in fantasy instead of unpleasant reality.
“So you have friends you play with?” Alec grabs another breadstick. “You said you have a guild. And you go on quests?”
“Yeah, I’ve made some pretty good friends through the game. I know it sounds weird, being friends with people you’ve never actually met. Although my friend Jess; I met her this past summer for her wedding. But the rest I just talk to online.”
“It’s not weird. I told you, Knox and Gage play World of Warcraft. So they’ve explained it to me. Playing with people all over the world… I think it’s pretty cool, really.”
“You said you’ve played a few times?”
“Yeah. Not that I wouldn’t try it again. But honestly, spending my days working with computers so much, I kind of like unplugging when I get home.”
I nod. “That makes sense.” Distractedly, I note that my lingering chill seems to have disappeared. In its place is an odd sort of warm, buzzy feeling. “You must do a lot on the computer for your company. Setting up security systems and all.”
He polishes off his breadstick and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Definitely. And with GMG—Green Mountain Guardians—”
“I know.” My smile turns teasing. “Living in Bliss, I think it would be impossible not to know about it.”
“True,” he agrees with an answering smile. “Since I’m the tech guy on the team, I head up the online investigation part of our cases. Which I enjoy doing, but sometimes I just like to go for a hike or watch some TV or something.”
Darkness flickers in Alec’s eyes, and his smile wavers. After a brief hesitation, he says, “If you’re not up for it now, we don’t have to get into it. But I talked to Patrick—Officer Quillian—this morning about your case.”
My stomach twists. Do I want to talk about my car plummeting into the river after my brakes inexplicably failed? Not really. But hiding my head in the proverbial sand isn’t going to help anything. And if Alec made the effort to reach out to the police…
“It’s fine,” I reply only somewhat untruthfully. “Did you find out anything?”
“Not a lot. But Patrick said he’d let me get a look at your car once they get it out of the river. It may take up to a week, but he said they’ve got a call in to the state for the necessary equipment, since they don’t have it here.”
“And you think you’d be able to tell what happened with the brakes? Even after it’s been underwater?”
Alec lifts his chin. “Yes. Brake systems are all electronic these days. A lot of emergency brakes, too. So if it’s an electrical issue, I’ll find it.”
“You don’t have to,” I start. “I mean, you’re so busy…”
“Hazel.” He touches my arm again. His eyes shift from rich pine to a soft, mossy green. “I want to.”
Oh.
Stop melting, I command my heart. Stop it.
“That reminds me.” Alec shifts so he can reach into his pocket. He pulls out a phone and hands it to me. “I know you lost your phone. And it might take a few days to get a new one. I don’t want you to be without a phone, so I brought one for you.”
Stop. Melting.
“Alec, you didn’t—”
He places the phone in my hand and wraps my fingers around it. “We have extra phones in case a client needs one. GMG clients, that is. You’re not a client, but I want you to have it. In case something comes up. In case you need anything.”
As I inspect the phone, he adds, “I put my number in it. Along with the rest of the guys on the team. Just in case.” He glances around the living room again, his gaze resting on the front door for a second. “Do you have deadbolts on the other doors? Working locks on all the windows?”
“Um. Yes. There’s a deadbolt on the door that goes out to the garage. And the window locks all work. Plus, I have broomsticks to keep them from opening.”
“Broomsticks?” His brow furrows. A beat later, he grins. “Ah. To wedge in the windows. Basic but effective.” Another beat. “Your dad?”
“My dad. He was big on home security.”
And he would have been so upset if he’d been around to know how badly I'd failed at it.
“That’s good,” Alec says. “Still. I’d really like to come back out and do a security inspection here. Check for any holes. Maybe install some—”
“Alec. I don’t have the money for all that.”
“Hazel.” His expression turns solemn. “I’m not asking you to pay. And I’m not suggesting a whole-home system. Just some motion-activated lights outside. Maybe a third lock on each door—something that’s difficult to bypass. Some simple alarms.”
Just as I’m opening my mouth to argue, he cuts in. “Just think about it. Call or shoot me a text if you’re interested. Okay?”
I find myself nodding. “Okay.”
Alec smiles at me, his features brightening. “Good.” He glances at the TV, still paused a third of the way through Anthony Bourdain’s journey through Turkey. “You like watching travel shows?”
The tension stemming from talking about home security eases. “I do. I have a list of all the places I want to visit someday.”
“That’s nice. I traveled a lot for the Army, but not to typical vacation spots.” He pauses. “What’s your number one vacation destination?”
“New Zealand,” I reply immediately. “Followed by Italy. Hopefully I’ll get to visit at least one of them someday.”
“I stopped in Italy once,” he replies. “But we were only—”
An insistent buzzing cuts in, and he stops mid-sentence. “Sorry. I need to check this.”
He pulls a second phone from his other pocket and answers it. Less than thirty seconds later, after a series of yeses and okays, he finishes with, “Alright. I’ll head back right now. See you in thirty.”
Once he hangs up, he turns back to me. “Sorry, but I’ve got to run. Jake—he’s my second in command at Stowe Security—just called. He’s run into an issue at an install over in Waterbury. So I need to head out there to help.”
“Of course.” I try to ignore the sudden disappointment creeping through me. “I really appreciate you stopping by. And bringing me this soup…”
“There are cookies in the other box,” he says, gesturing towards it. “White chocolate macadamia. I seem to recall you mentioning they were your favorite. Back when we talked at the Taste of Bliss Festival.”
Oh.
OH.
I did tell him that. We ran into each other in the line for the Decadent Delights table, and during our conversation, I said that white chocolate macadamia cookies were my favorite. And somehow, even six months later, he remembered that small detail.
“They are my favorite,” I tell him. That warm, buzzy feeling is back. “Thank you so much for bringing them.”
Alec stands. “I just hope these are as good as the ones at Decadent Delights.” His hand rests on my shoulder for a moment. “I wish I didn’t have to go. But—”
“It’s fine. I understand.”
He casts a quick look at the new phone now sitting beside me. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Don’t worry that you’re bothering me. I promise. You won’t.”
As he looks at me, an indecipherable emotion flickers in his eyes. “Okay, Hazel?”
My foolish heart beats faster. “I will.”