Chapter 26
Sawyer
Something’s wrong with Alice.
It’s been three days since I told her about Tracy’s complaint, and she’s been avoiding me. Not obviously. She still responds to my texts, still says hello when I stop by the bank. But there’s a distance that wasn’t there before.
Yesterday I texted asking if she wanted to grab lunch. She said she was too busy at work. This morning I stopped by the bank for coffee, and she barely looked at me while processing my deposit. When I asked if everything was okay, she just smiled and said she was fine.
“You look like someone kicked your dog,” Chris says, sliding into the passenger seat of the patrol car.
“I don’t have a dog.”
“It’s a figure of speech, old man. What’s eating at you?”
I pull out of the station parking lot and head toward our patrol route. “Alice has been acting weird since I told her about the complaint.”
“Weird how?”
“Distant. Like she’s trying to avoid me without making it obvious.”
Chris is quiet for a moment. “You think she’s having second thoughts about you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she feels guilty about the whole thing.”
“The complaint isn’t her fault.”
“But Alice…” I shake my head. My grip tightens on the steering wheel. “She blames herself for everything. She probably thinks if she stays away from me, it’ll make the complaint go away.”
“Will it?”
“No. Tracy isn’t going to drop this just because Alice keeps her distance. If anything, it’ll probably make her think she’s winning.”
This is exactly what Tracy wanted. Drive a wedge between us, make Alice feel like she’s toxic to anyone who tries to help her.
We drive in silence for a few minutes, past the elementary school and around the town square. The radio crackles with static between calls.
“So what are you going to do?” Chris asks.
“I don’t know. Part of me wants to show up at her house and make her talk to me. But—”
“Then showing up at her house might make it worse.”
“Exactly.” I sigh.
My radio crackles with a call about a fender bender on Main Street. We respond and spend the next hour dealing with two drivers who can’t agree on whose fault it was. By the time we’re done with the paperwork, it’s end of shift.
“I'll catch you later, man,” Chris says as we head back to the station.
I nod without saying anything.
The Cozy Cup is busy when I walk in, the smell of espresso and cinnamon mixing with conversation, the usual after-work crowd grabbing coffee and catching up on local gossip. I scan the room but don’t see Alice anywhere. Of course not.
“She’s not here,” my mom says from behind the counter.
“What?”
“Alice. You’ve got that look you get when you’re looking for someone.”
I walk over to the counter. “Has she been in today?”
“Yesterday. Ordered her usual and sat in her usual corner. She seemed quieter than usual. Didn't stay long.”
That confirms it. Alice is definitely not okay.
“Everything alright between you two?” Mom asks, wiping down the counter.
“I'm not sure.”
“Want to talk about it?”
I consider it for a moment. She's already pouring me a hot chocolate—her way of saying she's got time if I need it. But this feels too complicated to get into right now.
“It's complicated.”
“Most things are.” She slides the mug across to me. “But if she's upset about something, maybe she just needs some space to figure things out.”
“What if giving her space makes things worse?”
“Then you’ll deal with it. But sometimes the best thing you can do for someone is let them come to you when they’re ready.”
I take the hot chocolate and find a table near the window. I'd drink this stuff even if it were a hundred degrees outside. Outside, people are walking home from work, and kids are playing in the small park across the street. Normal life continuing while everything feels off-balance.
My phone buzzes with a text from Alice.
Alice: How was your day?
I stare at the message for a long moment. It’s the first time she’s texted me first since our conversation in Nora’s office.
Me: Long. How about yours?
Alice: Same. Busy.
One-word answers. Yeah, something's definitely wrong.
Me: Want to grab dinner? Or I can pick something up and bring it over.
The typing indicator appears and disappears several times before her response comes through.
Alice: I should probably stay home tonight. Maybe next time.
And there it is. Another polite excuse, another rain check. I set my phone down harder than I mean to.
Part of me wants to drive to her house right now and make her have a real conversation with me. I miss talking to her when it was actually talking, not just polite small talk.
Me: Of course. Let me know if you need anything.
Alice: Thank you. I will.
I type out "Alice, talk to me. Please." but delete it before sending. Pushing her will only make her pull away more.
She won’t ask for help. That’s the problem. She probably thinks she’s protecting me by staying away. Doesn’t she realize that losing her would hurt more than any complaint Tracy could file? Maybe she doesn’t see it the way that I do.
I finish my hot chocolate and head home, my mother’s words echoing in my head. Maybe giving Alice space is the right thing to do.
But as I sit in my empty house, studying for an exam that might not even matter anymore, the pages blurring together because I can't stop thinking about Alice, I can't shake the feeling that space is the last thing we need right now.
Alice is doing exactly what her mother wants—pushing me away, isolating herself, taking the blame for everyone else’s choices.
If Tracy Campbell thinks she can drive a wedge between me and Alice, she's got another thing coming.
I just need to figure out how to reach Alice before she pushes me away completely.