Chapter 2 — Holt
I pull into my driveway at six-fifteen and Ray's nephew is sitting on my front steps with Louis.
Louis sees me and jumps up. "Dad!"
I get out of the truck and Ray's nephew stands. "Everything good?"
"Yeah. He finished homework. We had snacks. He's been telling me about his model airplane for the last twenty minutes."
I pull out my wallet but he waves me off. "Ray said no charge tonight. Something about you doing him a favor."
"Tell him thanks."
He nods and heads to his car. Louis is already at the truck looking at me with questions in his eyes.
"Where were you?" he asks.
"Had something come up. You hungry?"
"It's Wednesday."
"I know. Tacos."
"Can we start now?"
"In a minute. Come inside first."
We walk into the house and I need to tell him something before I do what I'm about to do. Louis sits at the kitchen table and I sit across from him.
"I need to tell you about what happened today," I say.
His face gets serious. "Okay."
"Some men were at your school trying to break into a truck. Ms. Hayes saw them and went outside to stop them."
His eyes go wide. "Is she okay?"
"She's fine. I was driving past and I stopped. The men left."
"Were they bad men?"
"They were making a mistake. I corrected it."
He thinks about this. "Was Ms. Hayes scared?"
"Probably. But she's safe now."
"Good." He looks at me. "Are we still having tacos?"
"Yes. But I need to do something first. I need to make sure Ms. Hayes has her car back and I want to check on her. You're coming with me."
"Why am I coming?"
"Because you're not staying here alone and because you were worried about her too."
He doesn't argue with this logic. "Can we invite her for tacos?"
I look at my son and something in my chest shifts. "We'll see."
I call Ray and arrange for his nephew to drive Katherine's car from the school to her house. Ray gives me the same tone he gave me earlier but doesn't push. I text him Katherine's address and tell him I'm leaving her keys in the ignition.
Then Louis and I get back in the truck.
We drive to the school first. I leave Katherine's keys in the ignition with the doors unlocked. Text Ray that it's ready. Then I drive to Oak Street with my eight-year-old son in the passenger seat and try to figure out how to explain why we're here.
"Are we checking on Ms. Hayes?" Louis asks.
"Yes."
"Because you want to make sure she's okay?"
"Yes."
"Do you like her?"
I look at him. "She's your teacher."
"I know. But do you like her?"
I don't lie to Louis. "I don't know her very well yet."
"But you want to know her."
Smart kid. "Maybe."
"I think you should know her. She's nice."
I pull up to her curb and put the truck in park. It's six-forty-five. Louis unbuckles and waits for me to come around and open his door, which is the rule. We walk up her front path together and I knock.
Movement inside. The porch light comes on. The door opens and Katherine is standing there in yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt with her hair damp and loose around her shoulders. She looks different than she did three hours ago. Softer. More herself.
She sees Louis first and her whole face changes. "Hi Louis."
"Hi Ms. Hayes. Dad said we're checking on you."
"That's very kind." Her eyes move to me and there's something careful in her expression. "Is everything okay?"
"Ray's nephew is bringing your car back. I wanted to make sure you knew someone was coming and that he's safe."
"Oh. Thank you. You really didn't have to do that."
"You needed your car."
"I could have gotten it in the morning."
"This way you have it tonight."
We look at each other. Louis is watching both of us with the specific attention that eight-year-olds bring to situations they find interesting.
Katherine steps back. "Do you want to come in?"
I should say no. "For a minute."
Her house is small and feels lived-in in a good way. Books on the shelves, plants that look healthy, a blanket folded over the couch. It smells like tea and something else. Maybe lavender.
Louis immediately gravitates toward a shelf of records in the corner.
"You can look at those if you're careful," Katherine says.
He pulls one out gently and examines the cover. She watches him the same way she probably watches him at school. Not hovering but present.
I'm standing in her entryway trying not to notice how good she looks in her own space.
"Can I make you something?" she asks. "Tea? I have hot chocolate if Louis wants some."
"We're not staying long."
"You're not intruding."
Louis looks up. "Can I have hot chocolate?"
I look at Katherine. She's already moving toward the kitchen. "Of course."
I follow because standing in her entryway alone feels stranger than following her. Her kitchen is small. When she's at the stove and I'm leaning against the counter, there's maybe four feet between us.
She pulls out a pot and milk and cocoa powder. Makes it from scratch instead of using a packet. I watch her hands move through the familiar motions.
"How was Louis after earlier?" she asks. "Was he worried?"
"He wanted to know if you were okay."
She glances at me. "What did you tell him?"
"That you were."
"Thank you for that."
She pours milk into the pot and turns on the burner. Louis comes into the kitchen and climbs onto one of the two chairs at her small table.
"Do you like music?" he asks her.
"I do. I teach it."
"I mean when you're not teaching."
She smiles. "Yes. That's why I have all those records."
"Dad plays music sometimes when he's working on bikes. Old stuff mostly."
"Old music can be good."
"That's what Dad says."
Katherine looks at me and her smile is easy and warm and she's talking to my son in her kitchen at seven o'clock on a Wednesday while making hot chocolate from scratch.
She pours it into a mug and sets it in front of Louis with a warning to let it cool.
Then she leans against the counter across from me and we're standing close in this small kitchen and I'm aware of every inch of space between us.
"Are you sure you don't want anything?" she asks.
"I'm good."
"You look like you're thinking about something."
I'm thinking about several things. The curve of her body under that sweatshirt. The fact that she invited us in without hesitation. The way Louis is comfortable here already.
"What happened today shouldn't have happened," I say.
"I know."
"Marrow has been testing Bloomfield for three months. Small things. Showing up where they shouldn't be, seeing how long it takes before someone tells them to leave. They're looking for openings."
"And you close them."
"Yes."
She's quiet, processing. "Are they dangerous?"
"Yes."
"Are you dangerous?"
I look at her directly. "Yes."
She doesn't flinch. "But not to me."
"No."
"Or to Louis."
"No."
She nods like this makes sense. Louis is drinking his hot chocolate, listening but not interrupting. Katherine's gaze moves to him and back to me.
"Will today cause problems? The fact that they saw you with me?"
I consider lying. Decide not to. "Probably not. But I can't guarantee it."
"What does that mean?"
"It means they're more interested in the club than civilians. You're not strategically useful to them. But they saw me defend you. That creates an association."
"So being near you makes me visible to them."
"Yes."
She absorbs this without visible reaction. Louis finishes his hot chocolate and sets the mug down slowly.
"Dad," he says. "Are we still having tacos?"
I'd almost forgotten what day it was. "Yes."
"Can Ms. Hayes come?"
The question catches me before I can think. I look at Katherine and she's already looking at me, her expression open and curious, waiting for me to decide.
I should say no. Louis is watching. Katherine is watching. The kitchen smells like chocolate and her proximity is affecting my ability to think clearly.
"If she wants to," I say.
Katherine's smile is immediate. "I'd like that."
Twenty minutes later we're back at my house and Katherine is standing in my kitchen while I pull out ingredients.
Louis sets the table with the precision he brings to tasks that have a correct way to be done. Katherine offers to help and I hand her a cutting board and tomatoes and a knife.
"You do this every Wednesday?" she asks.
"Louis decided two years ago that Wednesdays are taco night."
"And you went with it."
"He was six. He needed routines."
She starts cutting and I watch her hands move competently through a task that's ordinary and domestic and happening in my kitchen like she's done this before.
Louis talks through the entire prep. About school, about recess, about a game with rules he's explaining in detail. Katherine listens and asks follow-up questions and I brown the meat and try to figure out how this became my evening.
We eat at seven-thirty. Louis talks non-stop. Katherine matches his energy, asking about his favorite subjects and the book they're reading in class. Louis tells her about the model airplane he's building with Ray and the fact that I'm teaching him about engines.
I mostly listen. This is how dinner works in this house. Louis talks, I listen, and the routine holds everything stable.
Having Katherine here changes the texture but not the structure. She fits naturally into the space Louis creates.
After dinner Louis asks if he can show her the airplane. I nod and they disappear into the garage. I clean up the kitchen and try not to think about how right this feels. Katherine in my house. In my space. With my son.
They come back fifteen minutes later. Louis is yawning. It's eight-fifteen.
"Bedtime," I say.
Louis doesn't argue. He tells Katherine goodnight and heads upstairs. I follow, get him through the routine, and he's asleep by eight-thirty.
When I come back downstairs Katherine is standing by the window looking out at the backyard.
"He's great," she says when she hears me.
"He's easy."
"Because you make it look easy. It's not."
I don't know what to say to that.
She turns from the window. "Do you want to sit outside for a minute?"
I lead her through the back door to the porch. Two chairs. A view of the yard that backs up to empty land. Quiet except for crickets and distant road sounds.
Katherine sits and I take the other chair. We sit in silence that should be uncomfortable but isn't.
"You said Marrow has been pushing for three months," she says. "What happens now?"
"We push back."
"How?"
"Depends what they do next."
"And if they put people in danger?"
"We stop them."
She's quiet. "You said you're part of the reason they're leaving. Does that mean confrontation?"
"Probably."
"Soon?"
"I don't know."
She pulls her legs up and wraps her arms around her knees. The motion pulls the sweatshirt tight across her breasts and I notice before I can stop myself. I look away.
"I don't know anything about this world," she says. "Motorcycle clubs. How you operate. I've lived in Bloomfield three years and I know Vigil exists but I've never thought about what it actually means."
"Most people don't need to."
"But I'm thinking about it now."
"Yes."
"Because of today."
"Yes."
She looks at me, her face open and serious. "Are you worried being associated with me will cause problems for you?"
"No."
"Then what are you worried about?"
I could lie. I tell the truth instead. "That being associated with me will cause problems for you."
She's quiet for a long moment. "Is that why you're here? To warn me away?"
"No."
"Then why?"
I look at her in my porch chair with her hair falling over her shoulder and her eyes on me like she actually wants to know.
I don't have a good answer. I have the truth.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay," I say.
"I am."
"Good."
We sit in silence. The crickets are loud. Katherine lets her legs drop and leans back, her body relaxing. I watch her profile against the dark yard.
"I should take you home," I say.
"Okay."
We walk through the house. I grab my keys and check the locks. Old military habit. Katherine waits by the front door.
The drive is quiet. She looks out the window. I focus on the road and try not to think about how I don't want this night to end.
I pull up to her curb and put the truck in park but leave the engine running.
She reaches for the door handle and stops. Turns toward me. I turn toward her.
We're sitting in my truck in the dark looking at each other.
"Thank you for dinner," she says. "And for checking on me. And for letting Louis show me his airplane."
"He liked having you there."
"I liked being there."
Her hand is resting on the seat between us.
I'm looking at it. At her fingers. At the shape of her palm.
Before I can think about whether this is smart, I reach out and touch her hand with mine. Just once.
My fingers brush over her knuckles and I feel the softness of her skin and the warmth and then I pull back.
She doesn't move. Her eyes are on mine and her breath catches and I see the moment awareness shifts into want.
She feels it too.
"Goodnight Katherine," I say.
She opens the door and gets out. I watch her walk to her front door and unlock it. She turns before going inside and waves once.
I wait until the door closes and I hear the deadbolt before I pull away.
I drive home with my hands on the wheel and the imprint of her skin still on my fingers.
Katherine Hayes is Louis's teacher. She is a civilian. She is someone who should stay far away from the world I operate in.
And I want her anyway.
That is the problem.
I'm going to have to figure out what to do about it.