by Roni Loren
Hollyn set the canister next to her bag, which she’d left on the back corner of her desk. “I wouldn’t put it past him, but I’ll keep this in my purse in case negotiations don’t work out. Thank you.”
“Of course.”
Hollyn pulled her cinnamon roll out of the bag and grabbed two napkins from her desk drawer, handing one to Andi. “I didn’t know you had a firefighter friend.”
Andi spread the napkin on her lap and unrolled a piece of the cinnamon roll. “He’s my new neighbor. I met him unexpectedly over the weekend.”
Hollyn licked a glob of frosting from her fingertip and grimaced, but Andi knew the grimace was her friend’s Tourette’s acting up and not her opinion of the pastry.
“I love that you meet someone once and you call them a friend,” Hollyn said. “There’s like a ten-step application process and a gauntlet to make it through to get that designation from me.”
Andi grinned as she swallowed her bite of dough. “Ha. Well, I feel honored to have been accepted into your circle of the chosen few. I have my own tests. Neighbor dude has only passed the preliminary quiz. I’m not inviting him over for grilled cheese or anything. But his pepper-spray advice was solid. I googled.”
Hollyn watched her for a moment, chewing, her eye twitching a little. “Does he live alone?”
Andi shrugged. “I assume so. He wasn’t wearing a ring.” She frowned. When had she even noticed that? Her subconscious must’ve been taking notes. “Plus, I’ve only heard his big feet traipsing around over there.”
“Big feet. Interesting.” Hollyn’s gaze took on a mischievous look. “Young guy? Old guy?”
Andi thought back to the other night. She’d been so freaked out to see anyone on her doorstep at that hour, and then taken aback by her body’s reaction to Hill, that she hadn’t thought about what his age might be. “Not old. Older than us but like, I don’t know, late twenties, early thirties? He had that old-soul look like he’d seen some stuff. But that’s not surprising if he’s a firefighter.”
Hollyn’s brow lifted. “Old soul, huh? Is he cute?”
Andi scrunched her nose, the question catching her off guard, and she forced another bite of cinnamon roll down. Was he cute? Cute was not a word she’d use for him. There was nothing “cute” about that serious face, those wide shoulders, and that deep voice. Sexy, yes. Hot, for sure. Her fantasy from the other night flashed through her mind, and warmth rushed to her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “I guess. If you like the big, bearded, dark, and broody type.”
“Please God, don’t let that be her type,” said a voice from the doorway.
Andi turned, finding Hollyn’s fiancé, Jasper, leaning against the doorjamb with an amused look on his face.
He stepped inside, adjusted his dark-rimmed glasses, and then spread his arms, Hulk-style, trying to widen his lean frame. “But if it is, I can be beefcake.”
Hollyn bit her lip, smiling adoringly at her guy. “What you are is exactly my type.”
“Goofy improv actor?” he confirmed and walked over to peck Hollyn on the lips.
“Obviously.”
“Sweet. I’m your man.” He turned to Andi after stealing a piece of Hollyn’s cinnamon roll and popping it in his mouth. “So, who are we talking about? What’s the word? Give me all the details.”
“Andi’s new neighbor is apparently a hot firefighter,” Hollyn said, tone playful.
Andi groaned. “I said no such thing.”
“Uh-huh,” Hollyn said.
“Fine,” Andi admitted. “He’s not…difficult to look at.”
Jasper propped a hip on the corner of Hollyn’s desk and grinned. “Uh-oh, Andi finally likes a boy. Fitz is going to be so bereft when I tell him. He’s harboring a mad crush.”
Andi gave him an oh-please look. Fitz McLane owned an investment firm that took up most of the fourth floor of WorkAround, and he was a nice enough guy, but he also could sell ice to an Eskimo. “Fitz acts like he has a crush on every woman in the building. He likes to be adored. And I don’t ‘like a boy.’ Neighbor dude is definitely a man. And I never said I was into him. I’m just objectively saying that he is a nice-looking human.” She pointed at them, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t do that thing.”
“What thing?” Hollyn asked, setting her chin in her hand and obviously enjoying the teasing way too much.
“That thing that people do once they’re a couple and want everyone else to suddenly couple up,” she said. “You become like gossipy grandmothers playing matchmaker.”
Hollyn shook her head and held up her own wagging finger. “Oh, no you don’t, Lockley. You were like my own personal cheering squad, trying to get things to work out with me and Jas. You don’t get to pull that couple card on us.”
Andi put her hand to her chest. “Me? I was simply seeing two people who obviously needed to be together and encouraging that. That was being a good friend. But you don’t even know this guy. I don’t even know this guy. He could be a crappy human. He could be married and not wearing a ring. He listens to country music, so we’re already starting off at a deficit.”
“Country?” Jasper cringed. “Yeah, sounds like a lost cause. I’ll tell Fitz his crush is safe.”
Hollyn offered the rest of her cinnamon roll to Jasper and cleaned her fingers on her napkin. “Look, I won’t be that person. You’re a grown woman who can make her own choices on who she’s interested in or not. But at the very least, it can’t hurt to get to know your neighbor a little, right?”
Andi frowned, that old tight feeling filling her chest. Just because someone was a neighbor didn’t mean they were someone worth knowing, someone worth trusting. But she didn’t want to go there with her friends. They didn’t know about her past. Didn’t know that the story of her first crush involved a guy currently sitting in a maximum-security prison. These friends knew her in the After—as the quirky horror writer, as the weird girl who finds comfort in the macabre, as the woman who wants to run background checks on all her friends’ dates but rarely goes on a date herself. She didn’t want them to know what had gotten her here.
“Sure. I mean, maybe I’ll need to borrow a cup of sugar one day,” Andi said noncommittally.
Jasper’s lips hitched at one corner. “Is that what the kids are calling it?”
Andi snorted and tossed her balled-up napkin at Jasper as she stood. “See if I bring you people pastry and weaponry again.”
“Ooh, there’s weaponry?” Jasper asked, turning to Hollyn.
Hollyn lifted her hand with an apologetic smile. “Fine. I’ll drop it. Maybe we are doing that couple thing. Gross.”
“No worries. I know it’s coming from a place of love, but really, it’s nothing. It was just a meet-the-neighbor.” She nodded toward the computer. “I’ll let you get back to your article.”
“Thanks again for the presents. What’s on your agenda today?” Hollyn asked.
“Oh, you know, the usual. I have to write a chapter of my book and then…” Andi stretched her neck from side to side like she was getting ready to enter a boxing match. “I have to put together a podcast episode covering this documentary about a guy who kidnapped and murdered three women. He hunted them at shopping malls in the eighties.”
Jasper’s eyes widened behind his glasses. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” Andi said. “It’s a grim case, but at least he was caught. I wanted to cover it because there’s a lot to be learned from it. If nothing else, it will remind women that we have to check our back seats before we get into our cars. And not to trust some random guy appearing to be helpful at the mall.”
“You realize you make what we do for a living look like utter bullshit when you say stuff like that,” Jasper said. “You’re like a crusader. You need a cape or something.”
“Nah,” Andi said, picking up her laptop bag. “We need people to make us laugh, too. If all we
thought about all day was how sick and cruel people can be, we’d never get out of bed in the morning. I’d be in a bunker dug into my backyard.” She smiled at her two friends. “We need people to entertain us. To make movies, to write books, to sing songs. It’s all important. And it’s not like I’m doing any real public service. I’m not investigating unsolved cases or helping catch the bad guys like some podcasters are. Not my skill set. I write scary books, and I tell people about real-life scary stories. I’m not fixing anything.”
“I don’t know if that’s true,” Hollyn said. “You’re telling people what the victims would if they could. I know I’m a lot more careful after listening to your show.”
“She keeps me safe,” Jasper confirmed, setting his chin on Hollyn’s shoulder.
Hollyn rolled her eyes.
“You keep each other safe, all right?” Andi wiggled her fingers in a little wave. “See y’all later.” She looked back and forth between the two of them. “And I’ll shut the door. Enjoy borrowing a cup of sugar.”
They were laughing when Andi clicked the door shut. And though she doubted they were going to get it on at the office, it made her grin to see her friends so happy. She didn’t believe coupledom was in the cards for her, but for some, it really was a beautiful thing to behold.
Chapter Three
The ancient oak trees looked like giant sea monsters rising from the earth in the early morning twilight, the curly Spanish moss swaying from their branches like seaweed, as Hill turned a corner on one of the jogging paths in City Park. He liked jogging very early in the morning, sometimes before the sun’s rays had even peeked over the horizon, because the paths in the park were less crowded and the humidity and heat weren’t overwhelming yet.
Plus, it gave him a reason not to have to lie in bed for hours staring at the ceiling as the sun came up. Even though it’d been almost two years since the fire that had taken the lower part of his leg, he still rarely managed more than four hours’ sleep a night. Falling asleep took forever, and then when he did, he was often jolted awake from nightmares.
A tree branch broke in the distance as a squirrel leapt from it, and the instant bolt of adrenaline at the sound of snapping wood had him losing his breath. God, how he hated that sound. Wood splintering, giving way, plummeting to the ground in a rain of fire. That sound and those images fucking haunted him.
He closed his eyes, inhaled a deep breath, pushing down the memories trying to surface, and then refocused on keeping his strides even. Right. Left. Right. Left. He’d worked hard to finally get used to the C-shaped jogging prosthesis he used for runs. Being able to get outside and exercise were vital. Of all the suggestions the fire department’s psychologist had given to him, that had been the most helpful. Hill had always leaned on hard workouts to channel whatever he was going through at the time into physical exertion, and now he needed it more than ever.
He didn’t know how to do this new life—the one where he wasn’t at the station daily doing his job, the one where he didn’t have two working legs, the one where his ex-fiancée woke up every morning next to someone else.
But he knew how to run.
Until his heart was pounding and his T-shirt was soaked and he was too exhausted to think much of anything.
He jogged around another bend in the path, taking the long way, the morning light beginning to change the color of the sky and a woodpecker starting up a rapid rhythm in a tree off to his right. This was the only version of peace he was going to get today, so he wanted to enjoy the last few minutes. Once he got home, he had to set up a few doctor’s appointments and then meet up with his friend Ramsey for lunch to talk “strategy,” his friend’s new favorite topic. The lunch should be something to look forward to, but lately Ramsey had turned into the teacher in that old Twisted Sister music video, constantly asking what Hill was going to do with his life. As if Hill were some fresh-out-of-college kid who had unlimited options.
He’d already made that tough decision in his life. He’d become a firefighter. It’d been the perfect job for him. He liked being on his toes, not knowing what the day would hold, being able to help and protect people in a very tangible way. Now that was gone. Poof. Game over. Like he’d lost a life in a video game and now he was starting back at the beginning, only this time with his original superpowers taken away and no chance of getting them back.
He didn’t want to play that game. That game sucked.
The parking lot came into view in the distance, the end of his run in sight. He slowed his pace, preparing to cool down. The morning crowd was trickling in—the white-haired power walkers, a few college students, and parents pushing strollers. A lady in bright-pink leggings was headed toward him, a little boy who looked like her in tow. Hill shifted more to the right side to give them room as he passed them. The little boy noticed Hill as he got closer, and his eyes went wide. He pointed at Hill’s running-blade prosthesis. “Mommy, it’s a robot!”
The mother blanched, sending Hill an embarrassed look. “Flynn, that’s not nice. He’s not a—”
But the little boy had broken free from his mother’s handhold and was rushing toward Hill. “Robot!”
“Flynn!”
The boy stopped in front of him, and Hill slowed to a halt, breathing hard.
The mother was right on the kid’s tail, and she grabbed his hand quickly again. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. He doesn’t know any better and—”
Hill forced a practiced smile. “It’s okay.” He looked to the little boy who was openly staring at Hill’s prosthesis, a look of amazement on his face. The sheer innocence of it softened some of Hill’s edginess over being stared at. He appreciated that kids didn’t play the polite games adults did. He remembered his little cousin, Jessa, at that age. Five-year-olds were honest as fuck. He lifted his knee, flexing the prosthesis so the boy could see how it worked. “I’m only part robot. We’re a secret society, though, so don’t tell anyone else you saw one of us.”
“Wow,” the little boy said. “Cool.”
The mother gave Hill an apologetic smile. “Thanks. Again, I’m sorry.”
Hill waved her off. “It’s fine. Enjoy your day.”
She tugged Flynn’s arm and got him walking again. The boy gave Hill a little wave and finally went with his mother. Hill walked the rest of the way back to the car, draining his water bottle in the process, suddenly feeling exhausted down to his bones.
By the time he pulled up to his house, he wanted a shower so badly, he could almost feel the water hitting his skin. But the path to get into his little yellow duplex was blocked. There was an open bag of soil on the front lawn, a line of pink and purple flowers in containers on the sidewalk, and a redhead on her knees in the barren front garden. Great. So much for a stealth entrance.
At the sound of his tires on the driveway, Andi stood from her spot in the grass and turned his way. She’d piled all of that bright hair on top of her head in some sort of spiky bun. Her knees were covered in dirt, and she was sporting what looked to be a pair of black Doc Martens even though she was dressed in a T-shirt and cut-off jean shorts.
The look shouldn’t do it for him.
She put one garden-glove-covered hand to her hip and waved at him like they were old friends. His mouth went dry and a flood of heat went straight to his dick. Fuck.
His two-year-long dry spell was making him react like a horny teenager. He took a breath and lifted a hand to return the wave. He took his time gathering his things, forcing his libido back in check before he climbed out of the car. He didn’t feel like having a conversation with his neighbor. He’d successfully avoided her for the two weeks since their late-night meeting. But there was no way to avoid it now. Pulling the car back out would be a little obvious. Plus, he was sweaty and disgusting, which insured a brief conversation and a valid excuse for needing to hurry inside.
With another bracing breath, he pushed the car doo
r open and climbed out.
“Hey there,” Andi said, crossing the small lawn and heading toward him.
“Hey.” Hill caught the moment Andi noticed his prosthesis for the first time. Her walk stuttered for a moment, a little freeze of movement, and her attention darted downward, then back up, then down again. But to her credit, she recovered quickly and offered him a bright smile as she stopped in front of him. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d moved out.”
“What?” he asked, momentarily distracted by the sheen of sweat clinging to her skin, the way she smelled like grass and flowers.
She smirked. “You’ve been so good at being quiet, and I haven’t seen you out, so if not for your car, I would’ve thought you were gone.”
“Oh,” he said, snapping back to attention. “Yeah. Still here. I haven’t heard any screams coming from your side either.”
She blinked.
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized how bad they sounded. “I mean—not that I’m listening.”
“I wanted to thank you for the tip about the pepper spray,” she said quickly, saving him. “I got canisters for me and my friend.”
Her cheeks had already been flushed from working in the sun, but he noticed the pink had spread to her neck. Way to make the neighbor uncomfortable, jackass. “Oh, good. That’s good.”
There was an awkward silence.
“So…” they both said at the same time.
He nodded for her to go first, but she waved him off. “No, go ahead.”
“I was going to say, so you’re gardening?”
She glanced over her shoulder at her work in progress, then back to him. “Yeah, I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’ve seen a lot of the neighbors planting flowers for spring, and I thought our place could use a little color. Plus, my brain is locked in the dank basement of writer’s block, so I figured some fresh air would be good.”
Our place. A little color. She had no idea how much color she was bringing to this faded house.
