Track 12

“The Whole of the Moon”

Present Day

“Where is he?” I mutter, keeping my gaze glued to the glass entrance doors while stuffing files into an archive box.

I’d just finished scanning one of a hundred million files dating back to the 1950s when Charlie Hobart’s father started the firm. The task of scanning is monotonous but oddly soothing. It gives me time to think about my next move in the Flanagan case. To be honest, I’d rather be out there scouting for leads, interrogating witnesses. Anything to get Mom one step closer to home. Every now and then, a paper cut jolts me out of relative serenity. I can’t wait for Hayden to join me in solidarity.

My great-aunt Carole—and Dad’s receptionist—squints at her iMac’s clock. On her screen, a live stream from the International Space Station shows a spectacular view of Earth. “It’s 3:54,” she says. “He starts at four, doesn’t he?”

“I just don’t want him to get on Dad’s bad side.” It’s crystal clear that Hayden needs the money. That desolate frown on his face when he peered into his wallet the other day really got to me. Dad’s giving him two after-school shifts to start with for a trial run.

“Ethan doesn’t have a bad side!” Aunt Carole says. She smiles at an email newsletter she’s putting together. It’s got Dad’s picture in one corner. He looks serious, but not intimidating, which is the look he was going for when I snapped the shot. In Carole’s eyes, my dad can do no wrong. She immigrated to the U.S. from Indonesia back in the quote/unquote “swingin’ sixties.” The photos of her in teeny-tiny miniskirts with sky-high beehive hairdos are hysterical. When Dad came here to study, she promised her older sister—my Gigi—that she’d take him under her wing. And feed him tons of buffalo wings.

Aunt Carole sits back and adjusts her black-as-black hair. She’s toned the beehive down over the years, but it’s still a thing. “Didn’t you say he’s new in town? I bet he’s lost.”

A figure appears at the door. I dust off my hands. “Oh, look! Now he’s found.”

Eyes to the cream carpet, Hayden steps in. He skates a hand through his wavy dark hair. If I’m not mistaken, there’s a slight tremble in his fingers. His crisp blue business shirt, skinny black tie, and stovepipe black trousers make a sharp contrast to my faded jeans and V-neck green T-shirt. My red Converse shoes are fit for a boat deck, not a downtown law firm.

“Hayden!” I rush toward him. He pauses for a split second, and I realize I sounded super excited to see him. Which I am, of course, because many hands make the load light and all that. Plus, I’m happy he’s now able to earn some cash for himself. Spring for a new GPS in his truck. Maybe even a newer truck. Eventually.

“Well, hi there. I’m Carole,” my great-aunt says brightly, holding out a hand. Her long fingernails are alternately painted gold and purple. They’re occupational hazards when it comes to typing, but they look awesome on her.

He glances at our casual clothes, then eyes his polished shoes. They’re a far cry from his usual bulky Timberland boots. It strikes me then that he’d modeled his get-up on the one Dad was wearing during their impromptu job interview at the diner. For a moment, my mind goes down a rabbit hole, trying to decide whether he’s hotter in street wear or in Wall Street wear.

Either way, I can’t tear my gaze off him. My whole body pulses in time with my heart.

“Hello. Hayden McGraw.” He gives Aunt Carole a nervous grin. He’s like a deer in halogen headlights. And that’s kind of endearing. I’d be less impressed if he swaggered in here like some slimy entrepreneur. “Hi, Cassidy,” he says. “I hope I’m not late? I spent way too much time ironing this shirt.”

“It was worth it. Not a wrinkle in sight.” Aunt Carole smiles her approval. “But just so you know, jeans and tees are acceptable in this office, too.”

“Oh…okay.” Blushing, Hayden shifts from foot to foot.

“You and I will be in the back offices most of the time, out of the clients’ sight,” I explain. “But if you did have to be on the front line, that outfit would totally work.”

“Good to know,” he says, eyeing the plastic lunchbox Aunt Carole is thrusting under his chin. It’s got the remains of the sesame seed cakes she made over the weekend. He glances uncertainly at me before shyly popping a tiny cube in his mouth. “Wow. This is delicious.”

Aunt Carole beams as he takes a second, slightly larger cake. He’s passed the first new-employee test as far as she’s concerned. She pushes a bottle of hand sanitizer his way and settles back in her chair. “Cassidy will show you the ropes and take you on a tour from here. I’ve got to get back to work now. These riveting newsletters aren’t going to write themselves.”

Hayden trails me down the hall, his shoes making soft squeaking noises. He keeps slowing down, like that’ll stop the squeaks, but it only makes them more obvious. I show him the kitchen, staff room, storage, and boardroom. We tiptoe past Dad’s office, which is shut tight because he’s with a client.

In a wide corridor, I stop at a plate-glass window overlooking the wide avenue outside and point out some of Dawson’s landmarks. “Over in that strip mall is Hot Tamales. You’ll need a fire extinguisher for your mouth if you’re not used to spicy food. To cool down, there’s an ice-cream shop. Not thirty-one flavors, but thirty-two. That extra flavor makes all the difference.”

“You’re making it really tempting to blow my first paycheck instead of banking it.”

I laugh. “Yeah, well, the pay isn’t exactly going to make you an instant millionaire, so you’re smart to save it.”

A couple of feet away from me, he stands by the window and eases his tie a fraction. His expression grows serious. Intense, even. Made even more so by the pulse of energy his presence seems to give off. “Hey, um, thanks a lot for this.”

“The tour? I hate the thought of you getting lost in this maze. But rest assured I’ll be in charge of the search party if that ever happens.” Grinning, I turn around and lean back against the window.

“No, I mean the job.” For a fleeting second, I swear a look of shame darkens his face. But it’s soon replaced with pride. He toughens his jaw. “You—and your dad—swooped in at just the right time. Although…I didn’t picture myself working in a law firm. I would’ve been just fine working nights as a janitor.”

“You’re kind of a loner, aren’t you?” I ask softly.

“I’m…I’m an observer. You learn a lot about people that way.” Again, he fiddles with the knot of his tie. Loosening. Tightening. Loosening again. I catch a glimpse of another blush creeping up his neck. Exhaling heavily, he says, “Anyway, yeah, I wanted you to know I’m grateful. My parents…are in a bind. I’m trying to do my bit to help out.”

My stomach churns, thinking about my mom. I blink rapidly to ward off tears and focus on what’s right in front of me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hayden’s mouth flaps open and shut a couple of times, then words finally tumble out. “They made a bad real estate deal. So, yeah, having a job means a lot.”

“Times have been tough for everyone. I’m happy I could give someone a break.” I purse my lips. To lighten the mood a little, I add, “Even if your paycheck can only buy you thirty-one of those thirty-two flavors. Plus, I had an ulterior motive. I needed someone to share my pain. And I warn you, there is a lotta pain involved in this job.”

I show him the thousand paper cuts on my palms. He stares at them, brow furrowed. Slowly, he starts to reach for my right hand. My breath quickens as I realize I’m leaning closer and closer to him. It’s like he’s got the gravitational pull of Jupiter, pulling me into his orbit. The air in the corridor seems to get sucked out somehow, somewhere. The atmosphere feels charged. Alive with electricity.

My palms? They’re bursting into a spontaneous sweat. When he jams his hands deep into his pockets, I’m almost relieved.

Almost.

No guy has ever made my palms sweat with anticipation. Revulsion, yes. There have been plenty of those kinds of sweats in my dating past.

There’s an unmistakable attraction. Me to him. But him to me? The jury’s still out on that, especially as he seems intent on putting space between us now.

Down the corridor, a door opens, then Dad strides toward us, iPad in hand. He’s so deep in thought he almost walks right by us.

“Dad, hey.” I hook him by the elbow.

His serious face cracks into a distracted smile. “Hi, honey. And, Hayden, good to have you aboard.”

“I really appreciate you hiring me, sir.” Hayden practically bows to him. There’s real sincerity in his eyes and slightly parted lips.

“You know,” Dad says, crossing his arms, “it occurred to me as I was signing your paperwork, you’re a McGraw.”

Hayden swallows audibly. “Yeah…”

Confused, I look from Hayden to Dad. Why is that so significant?

“You’re the same McGraws who bought that entire subdivision near Saddleback Ridge?” Dad asks.

My stomach drops. Everyone knows about the subdivision. I just hadn’t connected it to Hayden’s family.

Wow, he was right about being in a bind.

A developer built fifty McMansions, with plans to build two hundred more. Then rumors about old mines destabilizing the houses surfaced. No one wanted to live in a less populated part of Dawson, where jobs are scarce. And where your house could fall into a sinkhole without warning.

But for just ten grand, you could buy the entire development, sinkholes and all.

When that deal went through, my dad had lots of feelings about it. Most of them negative. He ranted for days about greedy, irresponsible developers donating to governments and wack-job bargain hunters.

“That’s us, sir,” he replies. “My parents had engineers inspect the whole area, but they say our block is the safest.”

Dad doesn’t look convinced. His eyebrows rise. “Has anyone else moved in?”

“No, not yet,” Hayden replies evenly. His expression gives little away.

“That sounds lonely for you guys,” I say. And no doubt they’ll be alone in that neighborhood for years to come. Who else would risk moving their precious family into a precarious neighborhood, even if the rumors turn out to be false?

Dad turns a penetrating stare on him, the kind that makes people squirm on the witness stand and wish they were in the middle of a viper pit instead. The only reaction from Hayden is the visible clenching of his jaw. Suddenly, I understand the urgent need for Hayden to find work. He’s trying to scrape money together in case of an emergency. Such as his house falling into a mile-deep hole—hopefully after his family jumps clear of it.

“Okay, well, if your mom and dad need legal help, you know where to find me. I’ve got plenty of contacts who can help with surveys, too.” Dad gives him a tight smile and continues down the corridor. “In the meantime, welcome to the firm.”

When he’s out of sight, Hayden exhales. “Your dad thinks my parents are jerks.”

“I’m sure he understands they had their reasons for buying the estate. And everyone deserves a roof over their head.” I try to arrange my lips in a supportive smile, but I’m sure it looks more like a grimace. “I can’t help but feel kinda…concerned? Aren’t you worried about your house plummeting into the bowels of the Earth without warning? With your entire family inside?”

Hayden gulps again, and in that moment I know the very same thoughts have rushed through his mind, too. In a defensive tone, he says, “My mom and dad don’t have a death wish. Our house is stable. Really.”

“If you say so.” I throw him a doubtful look. That strong jaw clenches again in response. “This does explain a few things about you, though.”

Now Hayden’s eyes take on a piercing stare. “What things?”

Ugh, why did I say that? I wish this building were on a sinkhole so the floor would open up and send me into an abyss. “Nothing. I shouldn’t have—”

He puts a hand on my forearm. It’s a light touch, but it’s enough to arrest me. “It’s okay. You can say it.”

“Well…” I draw out the word, looking up at him from under my lashes. “You’re always staring at me. I know it can’t be my staggering beauty.” He makes a noise, a kind of protest, which is sweet, but I push on. “Are you silently imploring me for help?”

Hayden looks away in what could only be a conscious effort not to stare at me. “Oh. I didn’t realize I was doing that.”

“You’ve, uh, been doing that all week, like I’m a new, unidentified species.” I pause, as a thought crosses my mind. “And your truck stalled right by Eden the other day, just as I was leaving. Which, I understand could be completely coincidental, but… Was it?”

He splutters loudly and doubles over. Tears squeeze from the corners of his eyes.

“Are you okay?” I pound a palm on his back. “Is this helping?”

“Thanks,” he croaks, sliding out of reach. “Sorry, I had some dust in my throat.”

My head tilts. Why would he lie? Dad’s office is pretty much hermetically sealed thanks to a recent renovation. He has it cleaned each morning and deep cleaned every week. If there’s a speck of dust anywhere, it’d stand out a mile.

“The last thing I want is for you to think I’m some stalker creep.” Hayden’s brown eyes are wide with horror. He takes two steps back to prove his point.

“I don’t feel creeped out,” I say slowly. If I were to describe the way he looks at me, I’d compare it to someone who’s watching, say, penguins at a zoo. He’s curious, but he doesn’t want to get too close because, despite being adorable, penguins reek. “You don’t give off serial killer vibes, anyway.”

He exhales. “That’s a relief.”

“But was it a coincidence? When you ended up outside Eden just as I was leaving?”

“I really was lost.” His cheeks glow red as I give him a penetrating stare of my own.

“Aside from getting you acquainted with the concept of a navigation app, I could help you with that,” I suggest. “Take the tour outside of the office and into greater Dawson. You’ll never be lost again.”

“Maybe,” he says softly. I’m skeptical. He’s already blown off one social invitation from me. “As for the staring… I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

I wave an arm. The jade and pink quartz bangles I bought in Indonesia clank gently together. “Oh, you stare at me all you want. As long as you don’t do it in front of Angie, because she thinks you have a thing for me.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I want to reach out and pull them back into me. Now he knows I’ve been talking about him to my friends. Great. Any hint of coolness I had about me has been shot to pieces. Although, if he has been studying me that closely, he already knows I’m not up there with the coolest of the cool.

Hayden lifts an eyebrow in a very Angie way. But he chooses to, thankfully, get back to the topic at hand. “It’s just that you’re…”

I wait for him to finish his sentence, then jokingly suggest, “Drop-dead gorgeous?”

He reddens and averts his gaze. “You remind me of an old…friend. Just your mannerisms, the way you carry yourself.”

There’s a raw spike in his voice that tugs at my heart. A little part of me is disappointed that he didn’t say he’s been drinking in my breathtaking beauty all this time. But it’s all been a case of mistaken identity, not speechless infatuation. Can’t wait to tell my friends. Yay. “Oh, you mean I talk with my hands?” I say, brushing aside the dent to my ego. “I’m actually practicing sign language. Trying to keep my skills up.”

“It’s more than that. You move fast, like there’s no time to waste.”

I chuckle. “Nailed it.”

Hayden nods, but the faraway look on his face tells me his thoughts are somewhere else. Or on someone else.

“So…it sounds like she meant a lot to you.” Suddenly I find it hard to swallow. Like, if he were to tell me he’s talking about his ex, it’d make me feel jealous. Which is totally silly. I have no claim whatsoever on him. “When did you last see her?”

The few seconds it takes for him to answer feels like an eternity. Misery mists his dark eyes. “In my nightmares.”