Falling for Home Page 18

  She grinned, holding out her hand. “My phone?” He looked at it, then back up at her. She just shook her head.

  “I’ll pick it up later,” she said, sighing exaggeratedly. He pulled her in, kissing her sweetly.

  “I’ll trade you a key for the use of it. And dinner.”

  “Maybe I should buy you a Smartphone for your birthday, seeing as you might be the last person on earth without one,” she said. She didn’t want to admit, to herself or him, how the idea of coming back later to dinner and her own key made her feel … whole. Found. When she hadn’t realized she was lost.

  “Maybe. But for now, I’ll borrow yours, since it’s in my hand.”

  She just laughed and picked up her things. As she started to leave, he called her name.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  As she got into her mom’s rarely used car, Lucy realized that the more she said it, the more it felt true.

  Alex swung by the recreation center on his way to the station. He wanted to see the progress and make sure no one had caused any damage. He was pleased by what he saw; the construction was going well. The framing was done, the walls were up, windows were in, and with the weather holding up, they would have it finished reasonably soon. Part of Alex thought that it was a blessing to start from the ground up with the center. Lucy and Kate were planning an elaborate affair in a few weeks, complete with an auction and dancing. As he got back into his cruiser, Alex hoped that he would have all of the answers by then.

  Dolores was at the front desk, talking to someone on the phone, when Alex walked into the station. With her hair teased up several inches, her cherry red lips, and her black mesh shirt, Alex could see why the eighties went out of style. Don’t be such an ass. She hung up the phone.

  “Hey there, stranger,” she said, her eyes … seeking. Seeking what?

  “Hey, Dolores. Good to have you back. How was your visit?” Alex asked. She was already pulling sticky notes off of her desk to hand to him. Lime green ones this time.

  “It was really nice. Caught up with my mama and my aunties. Played some cards. I had a great time,” she said.

  Her perfume scented the air when she came near. She hesitated before patting his arm. Even with her mile-high boots, she had to look up at him. Her eyes were sad.

  “Listen, Dolores,” Alex said, looking around the empty station to make sure no one else was around. “I was a jerk to you last week. I’m sorry about that. This case is getting to me, but that was no reason to take it out on you.”

  Dolores looked surprised and slightly uncomfortable, making Alex wonder if he’d actually hurt her feelings. She moved back to her desk and kept her head down.

  “Water under the bridge, sugar. One thing had nothing to do with the other,” she answered with a nonchalant wave of her hand. The phone rang and Dolores practically jumped on it.

  “Angel’s Lake Sheriff’s Department,” she said in her honeyed voice. Maybe his dad was right—maybe he did see secrets underneath everyone’s words. He might be suspicious, but it didn’t mean he was wrong.

  He and his dad rarely fought. There wasn’t much need. If they didn’t see eye to eye, they stopped looking at each other until the moment passed. Still, when they did get under each other’s skin, a bit of space generally solved things. Alex didn’t think a couple of days was enough, so when Dolores came to his door and told him that Chuck was on the phone, he simply scowled at her.

  “Tell him I’m busy,” he said shortly.

  She frowned at him and put her hands on her generous hips.

  “I will do no such thing. Good Lord. There is nothing more stubborn than a man. You don’t want to talk to him, you pick up the phone and tell him, or you hang up on him yourself,” she said, her voice a little pitchy at the end. She turned and stomped away.

  “I’m not stubborn,” he called out. Her reply was less than ladylike.

  Alex picked up the phone and pressed line one. “What?”

  “Nice greeting,” Chuck barked. “Hope your attitude improves when you get here.”

  “Why am I coming there?” Alex asked, rubbing at the back of his neck where it was beginning to ache.

  “Because it’s your damn job. Some punk broke all the windows in my shed and painted the hell out of one side,” Chuck said.

  “When was this?” Alex asked, sitting up and grabbing a pen.

  “Now how would I know? If I had been here, it wouldn’t have happened,” Chuck said.

  “I’m on my way,” Alex sighed.

  As he grabbed the keys and told Dolores where he was heading, he knew there was no denying the obvious—this was becoming personal.

  Chuck Whitman’s house was about twenty minutes from the center of town. Alex hated the house when his mom had dropped him off there—he’d seen the two-story Victorian home as just another place he wasn’t wanted. True, it had felt good when he arrived to find that his dad had prepared a room for him. They had talked on the phone once Chuck had returned to Angel’s Lake, but he didn’t see him. Chuck had told him that he always had a place waiting for him, but Alex had never wanted to leave Chicago. To a ten-year-old boy, friends and baseball were all that mattered. Now, as he drove down the quiet roads that still looked more like lanes, he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

  When Alex pulled up to Chuck’s house, he noticed that the lawn had been freshly mowed. He could smell the newly cut grass as he unfolded himself from the cruiser. Chuck came down the three wide steps from the porch, where he’d been standing.

  “Hey,” his dad greeted. Alex didn’t want to fight with him, but he couldn’t swallow the irritation of knowing his dad was keeping secrets.

  “Hey,” Alex replied, sidestepping the lawn and heading down the long gravel driveway that led to the shed, which looked more like a guest house since Chuck had added siding and redone the inside to make a workshop for himself.

  “I was out running errands. Came back to this,” Chuck told him. Knowing Alex would need to take photos, his dad had left everything as it was: glass glittered in the gravel, both large and small shards. Each of the white-trimmed windows had been smashed, probably with a rock, from the look of it. Alex pulled the small digital camera out of his pocket and began to take photos.

  “Did you check inside the shed to see if anything was taken?”

  “Yes. Bastard took my paint to deface the siding.”

  When Alex wandered around to the side that was painted, his stomach took a dive. Not only was the loyalty symbol in the far right corner, but it was painted in the same blue that had been part of the other tagging. The same blue that had been in Davey’s hair. Is there only one shade in this town? If the answer to that was yes, then it made sense that his dad had the same blue paint. If it wasn’t, it seemed like a hell of a coincidence. There were other colors mixed in—Alex could see that the tagger was running out of spray paint from the way the letters faded away near the edges. The word “fucker” was darker at the beginning than it was by the time the R trailed off.

  “This one seems more direct,” Alex said quietly.

  “I noticed the same thing.”

  “You piss anyone off?” Alex slid his dad a sideways glance.

  “Besides you?” Chuck raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. The smell of grass continued to waft through the air and mingled with the scents of someone grilling. Alex saw Mrs. Weatherly peek out from her living room window next door, and he put his hand up to wave hello.

  “Yeah. Besides me,” he replied when the curtains next door closed abruptly.

  Alex took more pictures, stepping lightly and carefully. The door to the shed was open.

  “This is the same paint from most of the others,” Alex said, looking at his dad over his shoulder.

  “Yes. Now you’re going to ask why I have it. I got it from a friend. I’m making a couple of plant stands. I’m painting them this blue,” Chuck replied. His voice was defensive, but Alex knew that
he understood the line of questioning.

  “Hell of a coincidence,” Alex murmured, echoing his earlier thoughts. “I’m going to send one of my deputies out to take statements. See if your neighbors—maybe Mrs. Weatherly—saw anything.”

  “Listen, Alex. About earlier,” Chuck said, his gruff voice gentling a little.

  “Not now, Dad. Unless you think that whatever secrets you’re keeping have something to do with this, then not now.”

  “Fine. But later then.”

  “Later.”

  Alex continued to take pictures while Chuck filled him in on the details. He hadn’t been out much more than an hour, he didn’t see anyone, and there hadn’t been any trouble in the neighborhood lately. Mick showed up shortly after Alex called him and said he would canvass the neighbors. Chuck asked Alex if he wanted to come in and have something to eat. Alex declined, needing to get back to the station, but also because he still wasn’t ready for “later.” When his phone rang, he hoped it was Lucy. He could use some Lucy right about then, but remembered he had her phone. Instead, it was Kate.

  “You okay?” he asked instead of saying hello.

  “I’m fine. Listen, can you come by the high school?” Kate asked. He could hear the noise in the background, making it clear she was already there.

  “Everything alright?” he asked, signaling to Mick that he was taking off and waving briskly to his dad. For good measure, he turned and waved to Mrs. Weatherly, who, once again, snapped the curtains closed.

  “Yes. I’m helping with the job fair. I mentioned it a while ago? Thought maybe you could drop by and talk to some of the kids about being a police officer,” she replied, telling someone to wait a minute.

  Shit. There were too many things going on to keep track of. In the back of his mind, he remembered a conversation from a while back about taking part. “I’m on my way.” What was one more thing?

  Lucy parked her mom’s car in the driveway and figured she would run into her parents before heading over to Alex’s. Since she was staying, she should probably find a place of her own. A place with a little room where she could spread out her work, her cameras and equipment, and line the walls some of her favorite photographs. Alex’s place is plenty big. Lucy grabbed her bag and headed into the house. Too much. Too soon.

  Leaving her bag in the kitchen that still smelled like hamburgers and fries, she went to find her parents. They were cuddled on the couch, watching The Voice. Her dad looked up and smiled.

  “Hey honey,” he said.

  “Hey.”

  “Hi sweetie. Have you eaten?” Julie asked, sitting up a bit. Her dad paused the show.

  “Not yet. I was going to see if Alex has eaten,” Lucy answered, flopping into the recliner beside the couch. Julie sat up a little straighter and looked Lucy up and down.

  “Are you feeling alright? You looked tired and a little pale,” Julie commented, leaning to put her hand to Lucy’s forehead. Lucy laughed and shifted away.

  “Mom! I’m almost thirty. You do not need to check my forehead.”

  Julie huffed and picked up the glass of water that was sitting on the coffee table.

  “Suit yourself. You should be taking vitamins. Are you taking vitamins?”

  “Julie,” Mark interrupted, his voice thick with amusement and tenderness. Genuine tenderness that made Lucy’s chest constrict. How they felt about each other was so visible in every look, every touch. Lucy wondered what had happened all of those years ago—twenty-eight, to be exact—that had caused that foundation to shift, to crack. And how had they managed to repair the damage so seamlessly?

  “I am allowed to take care of my children. While they’re here,” she said, arching her eyebrows at Lucy. Lucy stood, afraid that if she stayed longer she’d either fall asleep or ask questions she wasn’t ready for answers to.

  “I want to go over my ideas for book promotion tomorrow, okay?” Lucy said, looking down at her mom. Julie was wearing striped pajamas with a tank top and a soft, pale blue cardigan. Leaning over to give her a quick hug, Lucy inhaled the scent of lavender, and her heart constricted once more. So much had changed while she had been gone, but not everything and, for that, Lucy was grateful.

  “Don’t pressure your mom, Luce,” Mark said, turning the show back on.

  Lucy frowned. She was recognizing how serious her mom’s boundary was, but she was also on the outside of the situation enough to realize that someone had to push a little. Taking a deep breath, she leaned over her mom to give her dad a kiss on the cheek as well.

  “I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” she said.

  Her dad chuckled. “Say hello to Alex.”

  “And be safe, dear. Even if you —”

  “Mom!”

  Lucy covered her ears as she walked away from them, but she could still hear them laughing at the singers on the television.

  The door was unlocked when she crossed the yard and arrived at Alex’s. She did knock, but she checked the handle at the same time and found it open. Something smelled delicious, and her stomach growled loudly. The lights were dimmed, but Lucy could hear soft music playing in the kitchen, so she left her things at the door and followed the scents. She heard Alex humming and smiled. Her feet stopped moving when she saw him in the kitchen, draining pasta into a large colander. Candles flickered on the table that was set for two. When he turned to grab an oven mitt, he saw her. Or maybe he heard the heavy, fast thud of her heart as she watched him.

  “Hey,” he said, smiling. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a soft grey T-shirt. His hair was wet, like he’d just showered. He walked to her and kissed her gently. Teasingly. Once. Twice. And then not so gently. She moved her hands to his chest and wound them around his neck, grabbing on to the moment as much as him. Pulling back, she couldn’t stop the wide smile.

  “Hi. You expecting someone?” she asked. He grinned, kissed her nose, and released her.

  “Yes. I invited a girl over. But you got here first, so you can stay.”

  “Very funny,” she replied, coming in to peek at what was simmering on the stove. Jealousy wasn’t something she was familiar with. Not since her senior year in high school when she’d caught her prom date, naked, with none other than Danielle Peterson. At eighteen, Lucy had been naïve and was rewarded with a heavy dose of humiliation. But she was an adult now and could separate one feeling from another. The thought of Alex being with or wanting another woman, turned her stomach so fast, it could only be labeled as possessiveness. He was hers. And for once, she wasn’t letting go.

  “How was your day?” he asked her as she stuck a spoon in the spaghetti sauce and took a taste.

  “Mmm. Did you make this?”

  “I did. I told you I would cook for you. I should have done it sooner.”

  “If I’d known you could cook like this, I probably would have made you,” she said, taking another bite of the sweet red sauce that held just a touch of heat.

  “Uh-oh. Now I’ve done it.”

  She laughed and watched him put together the rest of their dinner, chatting with him about their respective days. As they sat down to dinner, the candlelight shimmering, Alex raised his glass.

  “To you,” he offered.

  “To me?”

  “Mmhmm. For coming home.”

  He clinked her glass and leaned in to give her a gentle kiss. When he rose, she was happy to have the moment to breathe and calm the tidal wave in her stomach. How could he make her feel so much? When he came back to the table, he was holding a square box wrapped with pretty pink paper. When he handed it to her, she found it had some weight.

  “What is this?”

  “Open it.”

  She smiled, feeling excitement push through her and settle the waves in her stomach. She untied the ribbon as he sat down and watched her take the lid off of the box. Inside, nestled in white tissue paper, she found a beautiful, perfectly square photo album. The black leather cover was cool, smooth, and soft. Delicate, silver lettering was etched across t
he front: Live Laugh Love. Lucy felt ridiculous for the tears that fell as she ran her hand over the slightly embossed lettering. Alex passed her one of the linen napkins, making her give a watery laugh.

  “It’s beautiful. I’ll fill it with pictures of us. Of you,” she said. He smiled, cupped her jaw with his hand, and kissed her.

  “That was the idea, actually. Great minds. Open it.”

  She opened the cover to reveal pockets for 4x6 photographs. In the first pocket, there was a silver key. She looked up, locked eyes with Alex.

  “As promised. If you want it,” he said softly. She closed the book, hugging it to her chest before setting it on the table. She stood and moved to his lap, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly.

  “I want it. I want you.”

  She kissed him, surprised again by the intensity with which her words rang true. He tightened his arms around her and stood.

  “Great minds,” he repeated. She laughed and looked down at their plates.

  “What about dinner?” she asked, running her fingers through his hair and kissing his neck.

  “It reheats well,” he replied. He bent slightly so she could blow out the candles before he carried her to his room.

  Chapter 18

  For someone who had lost their job, Lucy was extremely busy. Even more surprising was that she was happier than she had been in a long time. She’d managed to sign her mom up for a Twitter account, though she wasn’t positive that Julie understood the process. She’d also started a Facebook author page for her mom, which was instantly liked by several of her own friends, boosting Julie’s self-confidence. While they were looking at some of the simple ideas that Lucy had for boosting sales, Julie shared her publisher’s website. It had a link to Julie’s bio, but as far as a web page was concerned, her mom hadn’t taken that step.

  Lucy had done some research, mostly through Julie’s agency’s website, to find out effective ways for authors to market themselves. Lucy planned to walk her mom through blogging and blog tours, but she didn’t have time today. She had promised Kate she would help supervise some of the teens that had agreed to help paint over the graffiti on a couple of the buildings. They were starting with Mr. Kramer’s back wall.