Chapter 4
ALEC
I wonder how Hazel’s doing.
Even with the flurry of activity all day, she’s never been far from my mind.
Who am I kidding? She’s been on my mind the whole time.
While I rewired the alarm system that kept shorting out at the Waterbury install, my thoughts kept wandering to a different house less than twenty miles away.
I kept thinking about her security, with the basic deadbolts that a decently skilled thief could pick and the broomsticks that might keep the windows shut, but wouldn’t deter a burglar from breaking the glass and just coming right in.
While I held my weekly staff meeting, memories of Hazel’s smile kept interrupting me to the point of distraction.
During our team dinner at Enzo’s house, as we chowed down on Winter’s cheeseburger casserole and Caesar salad, I wondered if Hazel was eating.
If she was finishing the soup I brought for her, or maybe something she had in the fridge.
If she ordered delivery so she wouldn’t have to deal with cooking.
Or if she missed dinner, falling asleep on the couch as the sun began to set and the events of last night caught up to her.
Lost in my thoughts, I was quieter than usual. And of course, Winter noticed. Which led to her asking if I felt okay or if I was coming down with something. Then the conversation spiraled into another refrain of Alec, you really should take some time off.
Ronan brought up heading to Burlington, tossing out an offer to go with me. “Since we haven’t hit ski season yet,” he said, “my schedule at the resort is still pretty open. We could head to Burlington for the weekend, get a couple hotel rooms, check out some restaurants and breweries…”
Ronan works in Stowe, like me, but he’s a medic at the ski resort there. Since it’s not ski season yet, he’s only on site when they have special events like conferences and weddings.
Under different circumstances, I might have taken him up on it. Probably would have, actually.
But while the idea of hanging out in Burlington with my friend sounds fine, the rest of it—the part Ronan wouldn’t mention in front of Winter, Lark, and Rory—didn’t hold nearly the appeal as it used to.
Yes, I know I was thinking about a strings-free hookup last night. But even then, I didn’t love the idea. And now?
I really don’t like it.
I don’t want to talk to strange women about meaningless things. I don’t want to take a number I have no intention of calling. I don’t want to force an attraction to someone when all I can think about are silvery-blue eyes and shiny brown hair and a body that’s even sexier than I ever imagined.
I was trying not to look last night. I really was.
But there were some things I couldn’t help noticing, like Hazel’s voluptuous curves and her tucked-in waist and the luscious swell of her breasts.
In the brief time that passed before I wrapped the emergency blanket around her, her gorgeous body was seared into my memory.
But it’s not just Hazel’s body I can’t stop thinking about. Or how she looks, period.
It’s how she felt in my arms when I held her.
It’s how she looked for me at the hospital, her expression lighting up in relief once she saw me.
It’s her enthusiasm for so many things—working at Blissful Brews, volunteering at Rory’s shelter, engaging with all the people in town like she’s not just being polite, but really wants to know how they’re doing, talking about that game of hers…
It’s the way she smiles at me. And the way my heart does funny things whenever she does.
I know it’s better staying single.
For nearly five years, there was never any question of it.
But the more time I spend with Hazel, the more I wonder if I’m making the right choice, after all.
While I was casting about for an excuse to give Ronan, Knox’s wife, Lark, came to my rescue. “Maybe Alec just wants to stay home,” she offered. “Do some hiking. Binge some of his strange alien movies. Nothing wrong with a quiet weekend at home. I know I enjoy it.”
Then she gave me a sly little side smile as she added, “Or maybe he wants to stick around town. Have a few drinks at Blissful Brews.” And from the meaningful look she gave me, I knew she had seen me and Hazel talking last night.
Everyone knows what happened to Hazel’s car, of course. I called Enzo—founder of GMG and the de facto leader—to fill him in as soon as I got to the hospital.
No, Hazel’s not a client. But she’s a local. We all know her. Like her.
Shit, in my case, I like her a lot.
So if it turns out the brake failure wasn’t an unfortunate accident, I want to be prepared for it. Logic says it’s more likely a fluke. Or a faulty part. Human error when the brakes were installed. But if Hazel’s had those same brakes for eight months, why now?
Maybe it’s lingering paranoia from my time in the Army, when I learned the best way to survive was to suspect everything. And in the wake of Sawyer’s betrayal, even the people I thought I could trust with my life.
Or maybe the accident was intentional.
I can’t imagine anyone in town wanting to hurt Hazel.
But then again, there are plenty of innocent people who’ve been targeted by monsters.
Winter, for example, and her piece of garbage ex.
Lark and that crazy man who tried to kill her.
And Rory, who was the target of multiple attempts on her life all because of her money.
Maybe it was a fluke.
I really hope it was.
Rolling my neck and shoulders, I try to release some of the tension from them.
I’ve been trying to clear my mind ever since I got home, first through a punishing workout in my home gym and then, after a shower, finishing the rest of Frank’s soup while I watch a poorly-made science fiction movie on TV.
With a glance at the screen, I realize I’ve missed a decent portion of it while my thoughts have been wandering.
Last I remember, the aliens had just infiltrated the water supply in the form of microscopic beings.
And now the hapless hero is being chased by lurching half-alien-half-humans through a desolate city.
It’s not a good movie by any means. The special effects are terrible, and the actors deliver their lines with the enthusiasm of a brick wall. I already know how the movie will end—with the hero discovering the aliens’ weakness and destroying them all single-handedly.
But I like this kind of movie, anyway. There’s something comforting about its predictability. Plus, my dad got me into sci-fi movies as a kid, so watching them always brings back fond memories.
Feeling restless, I push up off the couch and head over to the window, staring out into the darkness. My house is tucked into the woods, with the closest neighbor a good quarter mile away, so at night, there’s nothing to see outside but the moon and the stars.
Or on an overcast night like tonight, it’s more like a blanket of black surrounding me. Some people might not like that, the feeling of absolute solitude, but I do.
And if I get tired of the peace and quiet, it’s not like I have far to go to civilization. Stowe is only about four miles northeast of here, and Bliss is fifteen miles, though if I traveled as the crow flies, as my dad likes to say, it would only be a third of that.
I slide open the window and breathe in the crisp fall air. It’s one of the things I like about living in rural Vermont—how clean the air is. It’s a welcome change from the choking humidity of the Middle East, coupled with the all too frequent stench of buildings burning.
A slight shiver brings to mind Hazel again.
Is she feeling warmer? Has the chill from the icy dip last night faded? Or is she still bundled up in a fleece blanket, hugging herself to stay warm?
Is it strange that I wish I could go there right now to find out for myself? Fix her soup or tea to help if she’s cold? Sit on the couch beside her, offering my warmth?
Yes, that would be strange. Especially considering we’ve never even been on a date. Never even shared a meal together, unless I count bringing soup over this afternoon, which I don’t.
No. A date with Hazel would involve a nice dinner at Mariano’s or The Laughing Goat.
Or possibly a reservation at the Von Trapp Lodge if she was up for something fancier.
I’d get flowers. Wear something nicer than my standard jeans and T-shirt or sweater, depending on what season it is.
It wouldn’t be sitting on her couch eating takeout out of recycled cardboard containers.
Though that was pretty nice, too.
Sliding the window shut, I turn away from it with an exasperated sigh.
I need something to take my mind off these conflicted feelings. Another movie. A book. An online game—
Almost as if by magic, a distraction arrives in the form of an incoming text.
A burst of hope flares bright as I hurry to the couch to grab my phone.
Could it be Hazel?
Phone in hand, I glance at the screen, and the hope fades.
It’s not Hazel. It’s Ace, my old Green Beret teammate, who recently moved out to Portland to start up the new branch of Blade and Arrow Security, a nationally known private security company.
I’m glad to hear from him, of course. It’s just…
Shaking the thought away, I sink back down on the couch as I read Ace’s message.
Hey. Just wanted to check in. How are things going?
I settle back against the cushions before typing my response.
Good. The company’s doing well. I might have to hire another couple employees to keep up with demand. And GMG is great. How’s everything over on your side of the country?
Three dots blink for a few seconds.
Really good. We just finished our third pro-bono case and have another lined up to start next week. This time we’re heading to San Francisco, so I’m looking forward to that.