Chapter 26

Alex stood outside the interrogation room and rolled his eyes at Dolores’s dramatics.

“Dolores, your kid has been setting fires and defacing buildings for months. We have proof.”

“He’s sixteen, Alex. He’s been through a lot.”

“Dolores, let Alex do his job. He’s good at it,” Chuck said, surprising Alex. If they did marry, this was going to make for some interesting Christmases. Chuck pulled Dolores into his arms. He murmured something softly, showing a side of himself that Alex had never seen.

“You can sit in,” Alex said to Dolores, opening the door, “but don’t interrupt.”

Dolores sniffled and looked at Chuck. Her black mascara was holding strong through the waves of her tears. She followed Alex and took a seat beside Andrew, who stared straight ahead, not acknowledging either of them.

“You’ve caused a lot of trouble, Andrew,” Alex said, taking a seat in one of the two chairs opposite Dolores and her son. Andrew shrugged. Dolores started to speak but stopped when Alex looked at her.

“We have you on numerous acts of vandalism, four acts of arson, and attempted murder,” Alex said, trumping up the last charge. Dolores gasped loudly. Andrew, finally, made eye contact with Alex. He kept his face passive, but Alex saw the fear and anger in his eyes.

“I didn’t try to murder anyone,” he spat, sitting up a bit straighter. His T-shirt was the kind of worn material that kids bought that way, even paid extra for. His hair was a little long around the sides, but he was a good-looking kid, despite the scowl.

“There were three women inside the rec center,” Alex stated.

“I just wanted to scare them. Scare you.”

It wasn’t often a suspect or a criminal surprised Alex, but Andrew managed to do that, repeatedly.

“Me? Why the hell would you want to scare me, kid?”

“You mess with my life, I mess with yours,” Andrew said. Dolores fidgeted, all but bursting with the need to say something.

“You’re going to have to clear things up for me here. How on earth did I mess with your life? I don’t even know you,” Alex said, reaching for patience. Andrew looked at his mother.

“Your dad is screwing my mom. It’s fucking up my life. Your family messes with my life, I mess with yours,” Andrew said, some bravado puffing his chest out.

“What are you talking about? And watch your language,” Dolores said shrilly.

“When Dad comes back, you think he’s going to be okay with you screwing some retired, has-been cop?”

Dolores’s face paled and she looked at Alex, her eyes pleading.

“Could we have a couple of minutes?” she asked. Alex pushed back from the table and left them alone.

Lucy lowered herself into the bath and tried to soak away the last week. She closed her eyes and breathed in the mini bubbles that popped here and there. The gala was tomorrow. New York was Sunday night. She would be there for one week. Then she would come home. And start again. With Alex or without. She tried to imagine both. He’d made a mistake. She’d taken it hard because she wanted so badly for someone to see her better than she saw herself. She tried to reverse the situation. If she’d jumped to conclusions, hurt him and doubted his feelings, would he have forgiven her? She knew, without a doubt, that he would have. It’s what you did when you loved someone. When your life was better with them than without. When they were more than the mistake they had made.

Unable to shut her mind down, she got out, dried off, and went to her room. She would put on some cozy clothes, go over her list for the gala tomorrow, and then grab something to eat. In her room, she yanked a T-shirt she had stolen from Alex over her head and pulled on a pair of loose cotton pajamas. She sat down on her bed, her back against her pillows, and picked up her list. Her eyes fell on the black photo album that Alex had given her. She picked it up, opened it, and stared at the first pocket. She shook her head and closed it, put it aside, and looked at her list. Her eyes drifted shut and she let them. Just for a minute.

Alex and Chuck watched from the two-way glass as Dolores and Andrew fought, cried, and fought some more. Alex was drained just from observing. Andrew’s dad had left them a few years ago, but Andrew was sure he’d be coming back. In fact, he’d contacted his dad, and his dad had said he wanted to see him. Soon. Then Dolores took up with Chuck and started spending her time with him. Andrew got kicked out of art school and came home to find that his mother was fine without him. He’d originally thought the vandalisms would keep Chuck busy. The kid hadn’t even paid attention to the fact that Chuck wasn’t the sheriff anymore. When he’d realized it, he just kept going, seeing as Chuck’s son was in charge. Andrew rationalized his actions like a man and pouted like a child. Back and forth until Alex’s head hurt from watching.

“Bottom line, the kid needs help. He’s done some stupid shit just to get mommy’s attention,” Alex said, arms folded across his chest. Chuck stood beside him with the same stance.

“Kind of like taking up with the wrong crowd?” Chuck asked. Alex didn’t know his dad knew about the last few months he and his mother had spent in Chicago. He didn’t reply, just shrugged.

“He could have really hurt someone,” Alex said.

“You’re right.”

When Chuck left it at that, Alex wasn’t sure what to do with it. Being right didn’t make things easier, especially with so many intersecting variables. He didn’t feel at all vindicated, like he usually did after closing a case. Where they went from here—all of them—was what mattered now.

After all of the highs and lows, the drama and the tears, Lucy found the gala to be a bit blah. In truth, she found everything to be a bit blah. She had fallen asleep and woken the next morning with a list of things that hadn’t been done. She hadn’t heard from Alex, and even though she had enough things to keep her busy, the fact that he hadn’t called weighed heavily on her.

She spent the day running errands, making herself stop to rest, to eat, to breathe. When she started thinking about Alex, she went back to being busy. As the town came together, dressed in their fanciest clothes, Lucy stayed on the edges, capturing the moments without wanting to be part of them. It was the only way she could function right now.

She would go to New York on Sunday, and when she got back, she’d put the pieces back together. The one thing about not rushing off to a new continent was that she had time to sort things through, rebuild, and heal. It didn’t have to be tonight. The music swirled around her like a warm blanket, slow and sultry. Glasses clinked and people laughed. Lucy listened to the soothing sound of her camera, blocking it all out and taking it all in at the same time. Until a hand touched her shoulder. Without moving, without looking, she knew the weight of that hand, the feel of that touch.

“You look stunning,” Alex whispered, his breath fanning her ear. She would not let herself lean back into him. Swallowing the knot in her throat, she turned to face him, lowering her camera. His eyes, even in dim, twinkling light, showed his fatigue.

“You should talk,” she replied, taking in his suit and tie. With her heels on, she was closer to his height and could meet his gaze evenly.

“We should talk,” Alex said, moving into her, reaching out his hand to touch her. He pulled it back instead. Her breathing slowed while her heartbeat sped. She closed her eyes, trying not to inhale the scent of him. Taking a small step back, she opened her eyes.

“Not now. I have to take pictures. I have to help Kate.”

She hated the sadness in his eyes almost more than she hated the emptiness in her chest.

“When?”

“When I get back from New York,” she said, knowing she needed him to be sure, of both of them. Knowing that she needed the time to pull herself back together and prepare herself for whatever happened. His face fell, but he nodded.

“We’re cutting a deal with Andrew,” he said, changing the subject. They walked the side of the room, through the crowd.

“Oh.”

Alex’s hand grazed hers, and she fought the ache it caused, remembering how perfectly their hands and bodies fit together. They walked to the buffet table, and Alex poured them both some punch.

“He’ll be going to counseling. He’ll also be doing community service until he’s eighteen. He’s seeking treatment for depression and anger. Dolores will also be doing family counseling with him. He’ll have an imposed curfew until he’s eighteen, and if he violates any of the conditions, he’ll have to do time at a facility for troubled youth.”

“Wow,” Lucy said, taking a sip of the sweet punch.

“Yeah. That’s the family deal,” Alex said with an unhappy smile.

“I’m sorry, what?”

He told her about Dolores and his dad. She didn’t know what to say. He told her about his mom.

“I’m so sorry. Will you phone her?” she asked, putting her glass down.

“In time. I don’t want to look back and realize I should have tried harder, that I should have done more,” Alex said. Lucy nodded in understanding, her throat too tight to speak. Alex reached out then, tracing his finger softly down her face.

“Alex.”

He leaned in to kiss her gently, but she turned so his lips only brushed her cheek. His face lingered near hers, his eyes closed like he needed this moment of nearness.

“I love you. I’ll see you when you get home.”

Lucy watched as he weaved his way through the crowd and more firmly inside of her heart.