Trouble From the Start

by Rachel Hawthorne

Dad’s car was gone, which was odd because it had been there when I got home. Maybe he got called out while I was in the shower.

  I grabbed my phone and hit Photos. The flash had illuminated our names in the sand. The exact moment that I took the picture, the foamy tide was tickling the edge of the heart. I wanted to think that they would still be there when I returned to work tonight, but I knew they would probably be gone. If not by the tide, then by the beachgoers who walked and played along the edge of the beach.

  But it didn’t matter. Tough-guy-of-few-words Fletcher had drawn our names in the sand. They’d been part of the earth and now they’d be part of the ocean, traveling the world.

  Such fanciful thoughts, but I guess they came from being in love. And I did love him. What if my parents’ expectations were only that I be happy? Fletcher met those expectations exceedingly well. And if they were disappointed, I’d deal with it, because Fletcher was worth it.

  I needed to let him know.

  I trotted down the stairs. I heard movement in the kitchen. Probably Mom. I tiptoed to the front door and slipped out. Dawn was arriving, painting the sky in a vibrant hue of pinks and oranges. I dashed across the driveway and up the stairs.

  I knocked on the door. Waited. Knocked again. “Fletcher?”

  Nothing. No sound. No movement. But he had to be here. His bike was here.

  I knocked again. Silence. “I know you’re mad, but we need to talk. Or I need to talk. You don’t have to say anything, but please listen. I can explain why I said what I did. I know it was wrong and stupid—” I sighed heavily. “Fletcher, open the door. Please.”

  Only he didn’t. I tried the handle. The door was locked. Frustration slammed into me. I wanted to fix things. I knew there was an extra key in a drawer in the kitchen. Would it be wrong of me to use it?

  Yes.

  “You can’t avoid me forever,” I called out. At some point he would eat with the family. Mom and Dad would insist. He couldn’t stay in there forever. I thought about sitting on the steps and waiting. Probably better to leave him alone to mope for a bit. I didn’t know how to handle a fight with a guy. I’d never had one.

  As a matter of fact, I couldn’t recall ever having a fight with anyone.

  I wandered back to the house and walked into the kitchen. Mom was sitting at the island.

  “Hey, honey,” she said, but she sounded . . . off.

  “Where’s Dad?” I asked as I took the stool beside her.

  She gave me an odd smile, one of reassurance and maybe embarrassment. “There was a robbery last night. He got the call around three.”

  I sat up straighter. “He’s okay, right?”

  Reaching across, Mom squeezed my arm. “He’s fine. I’m sorry. I should have led with that. He’s fine, but they have a person of interest and he’s dealing with that.”

  Relief washed through me and I sat back. “Thank goodness.” I thought about making some tea, but I didn’t feel like drinking anything. I wasn’t interested in breakfast either. I was worried about how upset Fletcher was. Maybe I should ask my mom for advice.

  “Avery,” Mom said softly.

  I looked back at her. All the lines in her face had deepened with worry. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

  “The person of interest . . . it’s Fletcher.”

  I stared at her as though she’d suddenly started speaking in Klingon. I pushed myself off the stool. “Wait a minute.”

  Was that why Fletcher didn’t open the door? Why Dad’s car was there when I got home but wasn’t there now? He’d taken Fletcher in? “What are you talking about? Why would Fletcher be a person of interest?”

  “Smiley’s was robbed.”

  “So?”

  “Apparently the evidence points to Fletcher.”

  “That’s crazy! He loves working there. He wouldn’t do something like that.”

  “Calm down.”

  “Calm down? This is Fletcher we’re talking about.”

  “I know. I don’t want to believe it either. I don’t know the details. Only that your dad took him in for questioning.”

  Took him in for questioning. I’d never before realized how ominous those words sounded. “Why would Dad do that? It couldn’t have been Fletcher.”

  She held up her hands. “I know you like him . . .”

  I more than liked him. I loved him. I believed in him. And I knew he couldn’t have done it, because he’d been with me. All night.

  Neither of my parents was going to be happy about that. I had been the girl who followed the straight and narrow, who never got into trouble, was never late with her homework, never did anything she wasn’t supposed to do. Until Fletcher.

  They’d blame him, even though it had been my idea. Right from the start we were going to be announcing loud and clear that they couldn’t trust us. But Fletcher would have no choice except to tell my dad everything. Dad would know where I’d been, who I’d been with. What we’d been up to.

  All their expectations regarding me were about to be crushed. I was so terrified of what their reaction might be, but I was more worried about Fletcher. Surely he had told my dad before he’d been taken to the station. Had Dad not believed him because it seemed like something so out of character for me? Fletcher had to be so scared.

  I heard a car pull into the drive. I rushed through the house, raced through the front door, and staggered to a stop when Dad got out of his car—alone. “Where’s Fletcher?” I demanded.

  Dad heaved a heavy sigh. “Still at the station.”

  “You can’t possibly think he robbed the shop.”

  “About three o’clock this morning, a tow truck driver was dropping off a car. He noticed lights on in the office. Found Smiley. He was mumbling Fletcher’s name. Unfortunately he’s now in a coma, so we’re short on details. Don Johnson confirmed money was missing and that Fletcher has a key.”

  “None of that proves anything,” I said indignantly.

  “He doesn’t have an alibi. I know he wasn’t here most of the night, because they called me when they realized what Smiley had been saying. I went to his room and waited until he showed up at dawn. When he walked through his door and saw me sitting on the couch, the guilt washing over his face—I’ve never in my life seen anyone look so guilty.”

  He was looking guilty because he’d been out with me and thought he’d gotten caught. But something else Dad said struck me as more important. “What do you mean he didn’t have an alibi?”

  “He said he was alone last night. No one can vouch for his whereabouts.”

  I felt as though I’d taken a solid blow to the chest. Fletcher had lied. But why? Because I’d told him that I didn’t want my parents to know about us? Because I’d made him think I was ashamed of him? My knees grew weak. I staggered back.

  Dad grabbed my arm, stopped me from falling down. “Avery?”

  I shook my head, the words lodged in my throat. Fletcher must have thought I’d rather let him go to jail than back up his alibi. Did he really think I’d do that?

  He’d been concerned that he wouldn’t know how to be a boyfriend. He’d cared enough about me to worry about it. When the truth was: I didn’t know how to be a girlfriend. He deserved a lot better than me.

  He’d once told me that easy wasn’t always the right choice. He didn’t always choose easy. Until this moment I had.

  “He does have an alibi, Dad.”

  My dad arched his brow. “Oh?”

  Swallowing hard, I nodded. “He was with me.”

  “When?”

  The word came out like a gunshot. Harsh. Short.

  “Shortly after I got in from work. We went to the beach. We were there together until almost dawn.”

  “Jack?” Mom said hesitantly, and I looked over to see her arms crossed over her chest, not like she was mad, but like she wanted to hug me but wasn’t sure she should.

  “Avery says she was with Fletcher last night,” Dad said.

  “I can prove it,” I said quickly, and dug my
phone out of my pocket. I went to my photos and brought up the one of our names in the sand. “See the properties? It’s dated and timed.” Of course that didn’t mean Fletcher was with me. I didn’t have a picture of us together last night. We hadn’t been hanging out with people so no one had seen us.

  Dad studied it before giving me the hard cop glare. “You left without letting us know.”

  I nodded. “I know it was wrong. I wanted to be with him, which I realize isn’t a good excuse, but I knew you’d say no.”

  “To you going to the beach, in the middle of the night—of course I’d say no,” Dad said.

  “Can you yell at me later? Punish me, whatever you think is fair, I won’t object, but can we go get Fletcher? Please?”

  “You should have told us,” Dad said. “And we will definitely discuss this later. What I don’t understand, though, is why Fletcher didn’t tell me he was with you.”

  “Maybe he didn’t want me to get into trouble.” I shook my head. “I don’t know, Dad.”

  Although I was afraid I did know. Maybe he was afraid that if he told Dad he was with me that I would deny it. That thought nearly broke my heart.

  I’d been to the police station countless times on school field trips. Sometimes Dad would bring me and show me around. But I’d never noticed how loudly the hallways echoed or how glaringly bright the lights were. Or how noisy it was with fingers clicking over keyboards, people talking, business getting done.

  Dad had let me look through the observation mirror into an interrogation room before, but no one had been inside. I’d thought it was fun, interesting. But not now, as I observed Fletcher sitting there studying his hands. Tears burned my eyes. He was there because of me.

  “He looks so alone,” I said quietly.

  Dad placed his broad hand on my shoulder. “Maybe he thinks he is.”

  I glanced up at Dad. “But he’s not.”

  He slowly shook his head. “No, he’s not. Why don’t you try to convince him of that?”

  If he’d even listen to me.

  Nodding, I took a deep breath. Dad reached over and opened the door. I stepped through into the big yawning abyss, and the door snicked closed behind me.

  Fletcher lifted his eyes to me. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Neither should you.”

  His gaze darted to the mirror before coming back to me. “Look, Law and Order—”

  “Don’t,” I said softly. It had been so long since he’d called me anything except Avery. I understood what he was doing. All the times he’d referred to me with some stupid nickname had been because he wanted to keep distance between us. Using my name made things more personal. He’d been hurt so much that he didn’t trust anyone. He didn’t trust me. He didn’t trust me to stand by him. But then why should he?

  He’d asked me last night to stand by him and I’d been too afraid of what my parents might think. It hurt now, to realize that. I couldn’t imagine how much I had hurt him.

  “Don’t make light of this or start putting up walls between us.” I looked over at the mirror. “And, yes, my dad is standing out there, probably watching and listening. It’s his job to get to the bottom of things.”

  I crossed the distance separating us, pulled out a chair, and sat.

  “You need to go,” he insisted. His eyes were dull, his expression flat. He wasn’t at all glad to see me.

  “Why did you tell my dad that you had no alibi?”

  He studied me in that way he had that made it seem he was memorizing lines and curves, as though he thought he would need to recall them for later, as though he wanted the memory. He leaned forward slightly. “Look, you don’t need to be dragged into this. They’ll figure out it wasn’t me.”

  “Fletcher, you’re just making their job harder by not eliminating yourself as a suspect. Not to mention that you have to sit here while they ask you questions, while they make you feel as though you’ve done something wrong.”

  “I did do something wrong, just not what they think. I’m not good for you, Avery.”

  “That’s true. But you are perfect for me.”

  “So perfect, let’s keep it a secret.”

  “I know you’re hurt and angry.”

  “You don’t know anything about what I’m feeling.”

  “But you’re still trying to protect me,” I said. My chest tightened so painfully with the realization that he was more concerned about me than himself. It didn’t matter if Mom and Dad were disappointed in my choice for a boyfriend. I knew I’d never find anyone better.

  He shook his head. “Just looking out for myself. It’s what I do best. Your dad would kill me if he learned about last night.”

  I lifted a shoulder. “He already knows, and you’re still breathing.”

  His eyes shot to the mirror, before landing heavily on me. “You told him?”

  “They think you robbed Smiley’s. They think you hit Smiley on the head. I’m mad that they would even think you’d do those things, but I’m also mad that you didn’t tell them you couldn’t have done those things. Not because it’s just not the kind of stuff you do, but because you were with me.”

  He released a long sigh that seemed to come from deep within his soul. “I know how important your reputation and their expectations are to you.”

  “I was wrong. I thought about it a lot after you went to get your bike. My parents are such good people, they do good things, but sometimes I think that they foster kids because I’m a disappointment.”

  “That’s nuts.” Fletcher didn’t talk a lot but when he did, he got right to the point.

  “I guess it’s a little like thinking you’ll be like your dad. We get these crazy thoughts and we can’t shake them off. I’ve always tried so hard to be what they want me to be, to pick the right clothes and the right college, the right major. To get good grades, to not get into trouble. To make them proud.”

  “Avery, you just have to be you.”

  “I know that now. I thought about how you don’t do things because of what people will think. You do them because of what you’ll think. I’m at my best when I’m with you. I came over this morning to tell you that but you weren’t there. I just thought you were too mad to open the door.” I tentatively placed my hand over his, grateful when he didn’t jerk free. “Before I knew what had happened, where you were, I came to the realization that nothing is more important than you. Not my reputation, not what my parents think. The only thing that matters is how much I love you. I love you so much, Fletcher.”

  He lowered his head, groaned. “You kill me, you know that?”

  “Not literally, I hope.”

  Chuckling low, he turned his hand palm up, closed his fingers around mine, and I felt the touch deep inside, near my heart.

  “I do love you, Fletcher, and I’m so, so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t. I don’t blame you for being upset with me, but you have to tell them the truth.” I glanced back at the mirror and nodded.

  Less than a second later, Dad opened the door and signaled for me. I squeezed Fletcher’s hand, stood, and walked out.

  Dad closed the door—with him on my side.

  “Aren’t you going to talk to him?” I asked.

  “Avery,” Dad said quietly, “our taking in foster kids wasn’t because of any kind of disappointment in you.”

  “Dad—”

  He cupped my face. “Your mom and I love you. You bring us such joy. We’re so fortunate to have you. Helping other kids is kind of our way of sharing our happiness. That’s all.”

  “Oh, Dad.” Tears rolled down my cheeks.

  “Fletcher’s right, sweetie. Just be yourself. You’ll never disappoint us.” He hugged me tightly and I wound my arms around him.

  “I love you, Dad.” I leaned back. “Will you let Fletcher out now?”

  We were all silent in the car on the drive home. I sat in the front with Dad; Fletcher rode in the back.

  When we arrived at the house, we all climbed out of t
he car. I walked over to Fletcher and wrapped my hand around his. Dad stood there and looked hard at me.

  I tilted up my chin. “I love him.”

  I knew he’d probably heard everything I’d said to Fletcher but it was important that he hear it now, that he knew I’d meant the words. That Fletcher understood I’d meant the words. I was going to stand beside him, no matter what.

  “Well, then, I guess we need to have a little talk,” Dad said.

  “Actually, sir,” Fletcher began, “it’s really between me and Avery.” He grimaced. “Avery and me.”

  Dad arched a brow. “Oh?”

  “Yes, sir. I know you won’t approve, so I’ll be moving out.”

  “Where are you going to go?”

  Fletcher hesitated. “I’ll find someplace.”

  “I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Dad said. “Although we may need to revisit the rules.”

  Mom came flying out through the front door. She staggered to a stop beside Dad. I figured she was about to hug us, but then she saw our joined hands. “What happened?”

  Dad nodded at us. “Fletcher corroborated Avery’s story that they were at the beach.”

  “Well, that’s good news,” Mom said. “From the police perspective.”

  “I love him,” I told her. “He’s my boyfriend. And I’m proud of him.” I squeezed his hand.

  Mom smiled. “We know that, sweetie.”

  I stared at her. “You do?”

  “Your dad’s a cop. I’m a mom. Not much gets by us.” She looked at Fletcher. “We’re thrilled.”

  “But I thought . . .” I began.

  “Thought what?” Dad asked.

  “I thought you expected me to love someone like Jeremy.”

  “Someone who can make you as happy as Jeremy makes Kendall. That’s all I meant. We don’t have any other expectations,” Mom said. “If Fletcher makes you happy, that’s all that matters. Lunch is ready. Grilled cheese and tomato basil soup.”

  Mom and Dad started to walk off like it was all settled.

  “You should know,” Fletcher began.

  They stopped, looked back at him.

  Still holding my hand, he shifted his stance. “I care for Avery.”

  “Care?” Dad echoed.