CHAPTER 6
GRAHAM

I felt bewitched.

Was there such a thing?

Every time I looked out my fucking window and saw her house, she popped into my mind. Her emerald eyes and her distinct little smile. That woman was a looker, but she was also curious.

It was unsettling, finding another woman attractive. In all the cities I’d bounced around to and all the women who had tried to talk me up, none of them had ever been my type. Their eyes either reminded me of my wife’s or were nothing like my wife’s. Their bodies were either enticing like my wife’s or the exact opposite of my wife’s. Either way, my dear late wife was always on my mind. Her warmth and her laughter. Her inviting curves and her generosity.

Then, I’d see her body as I’d last seen it, and I would be pulled back into that pain.

But there was none of that looking at my neighbor, no comparison to Cary and no reminiscence of that time in my life. It was odd, experiencing that without my memories impeding on the moment.

I couldn’t let it sway me, though. I couldn’t let her get under my skin.

No one could get close.

No one.

And with the way she loved her daughter, I couldn't do that to her. I couldn’t put that vibrant little girl in danger like I had my own son. I was destined to be alone forever, and that was fine with me. I’d had my chance. I’d created my family. Then, I’d squandered it by becoming comfortable, and I paid the price for my comfort. Men like me didn’t lead comfortable lives. I got selfish. Greedy. I let my guard down, and it had cost me my family.

I wasn’t going to let my guard down for anyone else.

A knock at my front door pulled me from my trance. I put my beer down and made my way to the front door. I picked up my gun off the kitchen table and tucked my hand behind the front door. My entire body was alert for whatever was on the other side.

“Is he home?”

“I’m not sure, sweetie.”

“But we made cookies.”

I opened the door and found my neighbor and her little girl standing on my front porch.

“Told you,” the girl said with a grin.

“Told her what?” I asked.

“That you were home. Your truck’s in the garage,” she said.

“Observant,” I said.

“Thanks. I get it from my daddy.”

My eyes whipped over to my neighbor, and I watched a sort of pain rise in her eyes. Her gaze faltered, and she swallowed hard. To most, the moment would’ve passed them by without them acknowledging it. But I saw it, and I knew. It was a pain only those who had experienced it would recognize. I held her gaze as she brought her eyes back to mine and held out the cookies for me to take. My heart thundered in my ears for a few seconds.

“We made these for you,” she said. “I’m Cindy, by the way.”

“What for?” I asked.

“The cookies?” she asked. “For helping my daughter with her knee.”

“See? It’s all better now thanks to you,” the little girl said.

“I didn’t do much. Your mother took care of you,” I said.

“Well, you helped,” the little girl said.

“Hardly.”

“Just take the cookies,” she said, looking annoyed like only a five-year-old could.

It was hard not to laugh.

“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Yep. I get that from Mommy.”

I watched a grin spread across Cindy’s cheeks as a pang of hurt pinched my gut. She really was a beautiful woman and filled with a hurt I understood.

In any other lifetime, I might’ve even cared to introduce myself to her.

“What’s your name?” the little girl asked.

“What’s yours?” I asked.

“Lillian. But everyone calls me Lily.”

“Graham,” I said.

I held a brief staring contest with the little girl until a smile broke across her face.

“Take the cookies,” she said.

“They’re for you, after all,” Cindy said.

“You didn’t have to make them,” I said.

“And you didn’t have to help my daughter,” Cindy said.

“I guess she does get her feistiness from you.”

Another moment passed between us before I reached my hand out to take the plate of cookies.

“How’s your knee?” I asked.

“It’s fine. Mommy put me in a bath, and it really hurt, but I was brave,” Lily said.

“It’s good to be brave. Sometimes we have to be, even when we don’t wanna be,” I said.

I watched the small girl light up with pride, and it reminded me of my son. That same kind of pride and that same strong stance. Whoever Cindy was, she was raising her girl well, raising her to be strong and independent like I’d tried to do with my son. Memories of him came crashing back. Us working on the truck together and running around in the yard. I remembered his first skinned knee and how much he wanted to cry as I cleaned it up.

But no matter how much he wanted to cry, he didn’t.

He had been so brave.

Just like Lily.

I pushed the thoughts of my son away before they threatened to take over and set the cookies on the counter. I was still concealing the gun in my hand behind the door as I stood in the cracked doorway. The three of us were awkwardly standing there, not knowing what to do.

“I hate to cut the pow-wow short, but I got somewhere to be,” I said finally.

“We didn’t mean to keep you,” Cindy said.

I wanted to slam the door and lock them on the porch, but the look on Lily’s face stopped me from being a complete asshole. “Thanks for the cookies,” I managed.

“You’re welcome,” Cindy said. “Come on, booger. Let’s give Graham some privacy.”

“But I wanna stay and play,” Lily said.

“No. We need to go. He’s got places to be,” Cindy said.

The two of them walked away, and I watched until they were safely inside their house. I shut my front door and disengaged my firearm, sliding it across the counter toward the cookies. I locked the door and shut off the lights, doing whatever I could to ward off any other visitors.

Taking out my phone, I called Daniel. I needed a distraction, someone to talk to so I could get my mind off things.

The phone rang.

“Graham. My man. What’s up?” Daniel asked.

“Not much,” I said. “You?”

“Something must be up. You never call just to talk.”

“Wanted to let you know I got a job in town,” I said.

“No shit! Whatcha doing?”

“Working at a mechanic shop. They prefer people pay in cash, so there isn’t a lot of formal paperwork to get hired there. Means my name won’t pop up on anything in the employment records.”

“Sounds like the best deal for now,” he said. “They legit? Not secretly running drugs or anything like that?”

“Nah, nothing like that. The owner’s old and doesn’t like fooling around with shit. You’d like him. Nothing’s sugar-coated, and I get to accept tips. Got the best prices in town too. He’s always busy from morning until the time they close.”

“Great, you have a job. Now you need to make a friend or two.”

“I’m not making friends.”

“The owner of the shop sounds like a start,” he said.

“I’m not his friend. The man’s halfway to the grave.”

“The place got a manager? Or some guy you work alongside? That’s your next mission.”

“I’m not a fucking operative any longer.”

“If you wanna wrap all this shit up, you are,” he said.

I sighed as I walked into the bathroom. I put him on speakerphone and started cleaning myself up. I needed to leave for work soon.

“I’ll find someone to talk to every now and then,” I said.

“That’s a start,” Daniel said.

“It’ll have to be good enough,” I said.

“We’ll work on it. Don’t worry. In the meantime, keep your head down. Don’t do your job too well or too shitty.”

“Do it enough to blend in with the rest of the crowd. I know. Fuck,” I said.

“When’s your first day?”

“Already been working a couple of days, but my first full-time shift is in a few minutes.”

“Better get to work then. Being late doesn't look good.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve held a job before,” I said.

“I’m gonna get off here before your sarcasm comes back to slap you in the face. Have a good first shift. Let me know how it goes.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Later, shnookums.”

I shook my head and splashed some water on my face for the last time. I looked at myself in the mirror and took myself in. The close-cropped beard that hid my dimples, the brown hair on my head I’d allowed to grow out a bit longer than I used to, the dead stare in my blue eyes. I used to see the reflection of my eyes in Cary’s, every time I looked down at her and cradled her in my grasp. I planted my hands on the side of the sink and watched my muscles flex. She had always loved my arms. I’d kept them up just for her, kept them more chiseled than the rest of my body.

I pushed myself away from the sink and buried her memory as I grabbed my phone.

I locked up my house and hopped into my truck. It was time to go to work and try to do this assimilation bullshit. I cranked up my truck, pulled out of my garage, and backed out onto the road. I whipped my car into drive and pressed down the gas, trying to get away from the house as quickly as possible. Every time I remembered my family, I remembered that night when everything was taken away from me.

And sometimes, I couldn’t deal with the reality of it all.