Eli
October 13, 2017
It’s just after four thirty p.m., and we’re done with our investigation as far as the bear goes. But the State Police aren’t even close. Their work is just beginning. Submitting the DNA from the breast to track down whom it belongs to. Is the woman still alive? Is she dead? Is there a missing persons report filed? Does she have family?
I need a shower, a beer, and Alex.
You can’t do this, Eli. You can’t want her. It will take more than meeting you to change her heart. Selfish bastard. Give her time.
I text Alex.
Me: Hey. Just finished up at the scene. On my way home.
God, that sounded good, saying that to her.
I see bubbles appear and then disappear. Appear. Disappear. Appear. Disappear.
What’s she thinking? I wonder.
Alex: Sounds good. Rookie and I are contemplating the cosmos. ;)
I smile.
The note Alex wrote, I think just after I start the truck and grab it from my pocket.
Ryan knocks on my window, a shit-eating grin on his face. “What’s in your hand, lover boy?”
“Nope.”
I make a mental note to call Grace once more before I serve her with divorce papers, out of decency, so she’s not blindsided.
When I married her, she loved hiking and fly-fishing. She loved to cook, make homemade gifts, read, give back. Were we different? Absolutely. But different in a good way. She changed after years together. She began to like lavish lunches, ritzy events, money. She began to like getting up at noon. She began to like being adored. Became more selfish, more cynical. She wasn’t the girl I had fallen in love with.
Ryan walks away. “All right, Romeo. See you at Angler’s.”
“Hey,” I call after him. I flick him shit back. “You bringing a date?”
He shrugs. “Depends on my mood.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Later.”
Before I pull away, I read Alex’s note.
Please, Alex, you shouldn’t have done this.
My heart just fell a little harder. My goddamn stomach is doing flips. She didn’t know, but I watched her as she wrote the note. The way she bit her eraser—a sign she was thinking deeply. Smiled even.
After I read it, I fold the note back up and put it safely back into my chest pocket, close to my heart. I dial Grace’s number again. No answer. I leave a message as I pull away from the scene.
This time, I say, “I’m filing divorce papers on Monday. Just don’t want it to catch you off guard.”
When I walk in the door, Alex is fucking sexy as hell. Staring at her computer, at the kitchen table, rubbing Rookie with one foot, who’s lying under her chair. Hair tied back, strands loosely hanging in her face. Glasses. She’s biting on an eraser, and the house smells like freshly brewed coffee.
I could do this forever. The only part missing is me taking her up to my bedroom and showing her how much I’m beginning to care about her.
Fuck, I’m screwed. I could end this before it gets started. But there’s no way I can.
“Hey,” she says, turning her body in my direction.
“Hi.” I set my stuff down on the table next to the door. I hang my jacket up.
We don’t break eye contact, and Rookie doesn’t even bat an eye.
“Great guard dog.” I bend down and give him a rub.
He groans and nibbles on my hand with his front teeth.
I stand, towering over her. “I read your note. I do have a question.”
“What’s that?” She meets my stare.
“Is Bryce a man or a woman?”
“Woman.”
“Good.” Something inside me wants so badly to touch her. Feel her skin against mine. I need a cold shower. “Mind if I take a quick shower? Then we will go to your place, so you can do the same.”
“Not at all.”
I turn and skip two stairs all the way up because, if I don’t, I’ll carry her to my bedroom, and I can’t do that.
I walk out in a long-sleeved white thermal and jeans.
Alex is on the porch, freezing her ass off, holding her arms, shaking. Rookie is searching for a prime place to pee that he hasn’t already peed on. I grab my warden jacket, open the door, and carefully place it around her shoulders. As I do this, I get a whiff of her hair that smells like so much good shit; I can’t even describe it. I feel it in places I shouldn’t.
I stand close to her because I can’t not.
“Thank you,” she says.
I feel her staring at the side of my face while I pretend to watch Rookie.
“Thanks for taking him to pee.” I stop. “You ready?”
“Yeah, let me gather my stuff.” She turns to me, and I see something in her eyes that changes. It’s instant. “Warden Young, you clean up nice.”
She walks out in black heels, khaki-colored pants, and a pink sweater. Her hair is curled this time, and her lips are shiny. Like she has some sort of lipstick, lip gloss, or whatever on.
I don’t say anything. I don’t think I can, and if I did, it would come out sounding completely idiotic. She turns her back to me to get something from the floor, and I see her ass. I need to do something.
Pull weeds.
Unload firewood.
Cut firewood.
Shovel snow.
Anything but have images of her in my head—on top of me, in front of me, down on me. Naked.
Be careful with her heart, Eli, I hear a voice in my head.
I think I need another cold shower.
“You look nice,” I say.
“Thanks. You ready?”
I hold my hand out. “After you.”
After I insist on getting the door for her, Alex begrudgingly accepts.
“Why do you fight me on that?” I ask.
“Kyle used to do it.” She pauses. “I don’t ever want to rely on a man for anything.” She’s matter-of-fact with her tone.
“Getting a door isn’t relying on a man. After he died, did you wait for him to open a door?” I think of how cynical my question is. “Alex, I didn’t mean—”
“No.” She searches her sweater for nonexistent lint. “You’re right.” She looks at me. “I need a drink.”
“I know a place.” I wink, and without thinking, I reach over and place my hand on her shoulder, touching the part where the sweater breaks and her skin begins. Quickly, I pull my hand away. But she didn’t resist. In fact, I think she closed her eyes. But it’s dark, and I can’t really tell. Maybe. Maybe she closed her eyes.
Her move, not yours, Eli.
Angler’s is packed tonight—partly because it’s game night and partly because it’s Friday night.
“Oh, there’s Randall and Clay,” Alex says as she looks through the window and starts for the door.
“Stop. Please, let me.” I grab the fishing rod that’s the handle of the door.
Alex hesitates. Waits. I open the door.
Randall and Clay are waiting for us along with Aaron, Ethan, and Ryan and a woman sitting next to him.
Our table is already reserved. It has been for game nights for the past ten years. Sal, the owner, is a retired game warden and he was bored with retirement. Bought Angler’s when the original owners, the Fredricks—also lifelong Mainers—decided to sell.
Alex goes to Randall and Clay, and they catch up for a few minutes. I think Randall and Clay really like Alex.
But Alex does something that completely surprises me. She reaches over the table with her hand and introduces herself to Ryan’s date, friend—hell, who knows?—something none of us ever do, knowing she won’t be around next week.
“Want to grab a drink at the bar, Lydia?” Alex asks.
Quickly, I lean over and whisper to Alex, “I can get you a drink.”
She shakes her head and motions for me to come closer. She whispers, “Remember, I don’t need a man to take care of me. What will you be having tonight, Warden Young?” She pulls away, her eyes locked on mine.
Something I can’t have, I want to say.
“Whatever’s on tap.”
Alex and Lydia make their way to the bar.
Ryan looks to me. “Did you know her name was Lydia? I thought it was Lilly.”
“Did you even offer her a drink?” I sit down next to him.
Ryan waves me off.
After a few minutes, Alex and Lydia come back to the table with wine.
Clay says to Alex, “Manhattan didn’t suit you the other night?”
“Too strong.” Alex holds her glass of wine to her lips.
Shannon, our waitress and lifelong Mainer, comes to the table. “Any refills before the game starts?” She winks at me.
Fuck.
“Keep them coming, Shannon. Keep them coming.” Ryan smiles.
“I wasn’t talking to you, douche,” Shannon says scornfully.
“Ouch,” Aaron says. “Another unsatisfied customer?”
“I don’t remember, honestly.” Ryan takes another drink of his beer.
Lydia—or Lilly because, now, Ryan has confused me—rolls her eyes.
“Not like Eli. He’s got the nice guy image and the look.” For Christ’s sakes. Here we go.
“How do you do it, Young?” Aaron says, tipping his beer back. “Everywhere we go, every single damn last woman wants you.” He looks to Alex. “Do you know, Alex, that we can’t even order food without women hanging at his feet, begging to take his order? Here we are, two single twins, and when Young is around, even with a beautiful woman sitting next to him, women still can’t get enough.”
I push his comments aside, trying my damnedest not to turn red, but instead, I feel the flush on my face.
Alex leans over. “Warden Young, I do believe you’re blushing.”
I take a long sip of my beer, staring at the television, trying my best to kick Alex from my thoughts.
At halftime, everyone runs to the restroom or refills their drinks, leaving Alex and me alone at the table.
GSW is down by two at the half, and I have to say something, just to flick her shit. “You know, if Curry had hit that three, you’d be up by one.” I take a long, slow sip of my beer, still nursing the first one after an hour.
Alex is on her second glass of wine. I think this is her game face. “We’re a second-half team, Young. We will pull out the W.”
I laugh. She smiles.
“Besides, when’s the last time Boston won a game on the road?”
“Ouch.” I grab at my heart.
Her hand playfully pushes my leg, but when she goes to move it, I grab it just in time and give it a squeeze. Her eyes slowly meet mine. I would love to live this life with her, fit around her.
She leisurely shakes her head, staring down at our hands. “I swore, I’d never fall for a man in uniform again, Eli.” She struggles with her words. “This can’t work. I don’t think my heart can handle it.”
She looks at me dead in the eyes, as if she’s preparing for an injury she knows is coming. Like a fast train, gaining momentum, faster and faster and faster—and the brakes stop working. There’s no stopping the train. Someone has to throw themselves in front of it. I’d do that for her. I’d throw myself in front of the train if she couldn’t handle it.
Ryan returns to the table, and our hands break free.
“Well, that was quick.” Ryan sits. “Said she wasn’t feeling well.” He takes a swig of his beer. “Oh, did I interrupt something?”
“Yes,” I say just as Alex says, “Absolutely not.”
Ryan eyes both of us. “Game’s back on. Where’d Clay and Randall go?”
“They’re visiting with the Bravermans.” I point with my beer to a quiet corner.
Aaron and Ethan return from the bar and have a seat at the table with us for the second half.
I can tell Alex is nervous because her right leg is moving up and down, so I reach down and place my hand on top of her leg, spreading my fingers.
She stops and stares at me, unnoticed by the room full of people.
We watch the game in silence, my hand on her leg, gentle, careful but not cautious. Alex is right; GSW is a second-half team. They have been since the Splash Brothers came to be.
I can tell Alex has somewhat shifted to the woman I first met. More quiet, reserved.
What did she mean, she’d never fall in love with a man in uniform again? Kyle must have been some sort of officer.
“Did you guys see that? That was greatness at its finest. What a game!” she blurts out. Alex looks to the four of us. Her excitement isn’t taken too well throughout the bar. “Come on, that was a beautiful four-point play.” She takes another small sip of her wine and shrugs. “Besides, who fouls Curry at the three-point line with a minute to go on the clock?”
We don’t have an answer for her. That was a dumb move by Irving.
“Did you play basketball, Alex?” Aaron asks.
She takes the last sip of her wine and swallows. Her lip twitches. “I did.” She swallows. “Four years at California State University Northridge. Shooting guard.”
I can see the look in her eye has changed. Like the wine has kicked in.
Shannon returns. “Any more drinks?” She looks at Ryan. “If you breathe a word, kumquat, I will spit in your face. Got me?”
Ryan holds his hands up in a surrender position. Shannon snarls and walks away.
Clay walks up and kisses Alex on the cheek like they’ve known each other for years. It’s funny how gay men and straight women can do that.
“See you tomorrow morning?” Clay touches her shoulder.
“See you,” Alex says, reaching up and touching his hand.
I feel a twinge of jealousy vibrate through my body—more than a twinge. I want to be the one who does that.
“Bye, boys!” Clay waves behind himself.
Aaron and Ethan stand. “We’re out. Early morning.”
“Later, Caseys.” Ryan stands. “Me, too. Going to go find Sadie.”
I shake my head and look at Alex. “You ready?”
“Yes.”
Alex grabs her purse, and automatically, I barely touch her waist and follow close behind her.
“Bye, Warden Young,” Shannon says from behind the bar.
“Night.”
The cold night air hits us like a blast, and Alex lets out a gasp. “H-holy shit,” she whispers into her neck, shielding herself from the wind. “It’s cold.”
I open her car door, and she hops in. I go around to the driver’s side and shut the door. The truck starts automatically.
It’s just the low hum of the truck and the wind howling outside.
“You’re staying with me tonight.”
“I know.” Alex gives me a look that’s almost too irresistible.
“Besides the Manhattan I had the other night with Clay and the two glasses of wine I had tonight, I haven’t had a drink in three years, and I feel it. Really feel it.”
Alex looks into my eyes. She’s braver, more courageous, more outspoken. Now, I know why she’s had the sudden change in mood. It’s the booze that removed her sadness. Is it also the substance that allowed her to speak more freely with me?
“What day is it?” Alex pushes strands of hair from her face. “Vacation time has my days all mixed up.”
“Friday.”
“Do you have the day off tomorrow? What are you going to do?”
Make love to you all day long. “Cut firewood maybe.” Take several cold showers.
“Good. Then, I can find out what game wardens do on their days off.”
I chuckle to myself. I think back to the note she wrote me, the one I put in my bedside table, next to my mother’s ashes.
I hate attention. I loathe being in the spotlight.
We pull up to the house, and I help Alex out of the truck. But, this time, she takes my hand and doesn’t let go. I’m not sure if it’s to steady herself with the heels and the gravel, but she didn’t need my hand before. I wrap my hand around hers, walk with her to the front door, and lead her in.
Rookie’s head perks up, and Alex slips off her heels and gets down on her knees in his bed to love him.
“Such a sweet boy.” She rubs him in his favorite spot, just under his ears.
Putting his paw up on her arm, he gives her a sniff and a lick on her face.
“You make me miss my Larry. I know you’d get along with him, Rookie. I know it.” She gives him one last rub.
I set my keys on the small table by the door, lean on the doorframe, and watch them.
She uses Rookie as a pillow. “Do you have a shirt I can sleep in, Eli?”
Fuck me.
My face flares hot. “I do.” My voice is tight with tension.
She follows me upstairs to my bedroom, and I grab a warden academy T-shirt from the drawer.
“It’ll be big, but it will work.” Please, God, let this cover all of her parts.
I rest my hands on my hips, taking her in but not in a sexual way. In this quick amount of time we’ve been together, I want to be the one who kisses her good night. Eases her troubled dark brown eyes. The ones that stare back at me, putting up a wall between us.
“Thank you, Eli.” She pulls her eyes from the T-shirt to meet my gaze. “Good night.”
“Perfect. Fantastic,” I say like an awkward teenager even though I so badly want her in my bed with me. “Good night, Alex.”
She retreats to the guest bedroom.
Cold shower, Warden Young.
I rinse off Alex’s remnants—her scent, her memories that she’s quickly building in my mind, her look, her eye twitch when she’s had a little too much alcohol. Everything Alex.
I can’t fuck this up. Time is what she needs. I need to file the papers down at the courthouse. I need to have Grace sign them.
I pull on some pajama pants and a white T-shirt, and I fall on top of the covers, picking up my book, Trespasser by Paul Doiron. Rookie is in his bed by the door.
I’ve turned pages in the book, unsure of what I’ve read because all I keep picturing is Alex in my shirt.
Alex appears in my doorway in the damn shirt.
“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” she says.
I slide them off my face. “Just for reading.”
“I lied. With the note I gave you, I lied.”
I set the book down. “What?”
I pat the side of the bed, hoping she’ll come sit. She’s hesitant at first, but she sits on the edge of the bed, her left leg angled up.
“I have written since Kyle died but nothing good—until now. I owe that to you.” She pauses. “I guess I just wanted to come say thank you.” She pauses again and laughs at herself. “Who would have thought I’d be in Granite Harbor, Maine, writing again, doing book research with a game warden, who unexpectedly lifted my spirits? Thank you for treating me normal.”
I feel a deep ache, a void that is slowly being filled by her. I want to take my fingers and run them up and down her milky-white arm, allow my hands to get lost in her skin. Touch her in ways I’ve never touched anyone. Not even Grace. But, in her hand, I see two postcards.
“What are those?”
Alex looks down at them and slides next to me, careful to create a buffer between us. “I need to ask you a question,” she sighs. “I received these about ten days before I came out to Granite Harbor. Well, one came to my house, and the other went to my parents’ house.”
I don’t know anything about her parents. Does Alex have siblings? She’s never met my dad. My sister.
On the front of both postcards is a picture of Main Street in Granite Harbor, Maine. The picture was taken in the spring because the flowers are in full bloom. She flips over the postcard.
It’s the same picture as on the front of each, except faded. It reads:
Alex,
Granite Harbor, Maine, welcomes YOU.
Please come.
Love,
Eli
Our shoulders barely touching, she turns to me. I’m still on my back, wondering if she notices my heart pounding out of my chest. I try to play it cool, so I stare at the ceiling, trying to count the poachers we’ve caught in the last year, to distract myself from my body being this close to hers, distract myself from the fact that I didn’t write these, though part of me wishes I had.
“Alex, I didn’t write these.”
“I figured you didn’t, but the weird thing is, they’re written in Kyle’s handwriting.”
“May I?”
Alex nods and hands them over.
“My mom and Bryce are convinced that it’s fate that I’m here.”
She laughs—not a free, full laugh, but a nervous, guarded laugh. That tells me she might half-believe what she’s saying right now.
Examining the postcards, I see they were postmarked in Brooklyn. “The postmark is in Brooklyn. If they came from Granite Harbor, it should say Granite Harbor.”
“Why would they both be written in Kyle’s writing? And why use your name? As if the writer of these postcards knew I’d come? Knew I’d meet you?”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure.” What I want to say is, You’re here now, and that’s what’s important.
I let her talk after a long pause between us. The thought of the postcards with my name and her name on them is ironic, especially because I didn’t send them.
“But you’re here now.”
She laughs. “You know I can’t stay here forever, right?”
“You’re right,” I say, still holding the postcards with my name on them. “You’re a grown woman. I can’t keep you here. But it’s also my duty as a sworn law officer to protect the public.” I’m barely treading water. I want you here because I care about you.
Alex lies flat on her back, staring at the ceiling now. “So, you’re telling me that you’d bring any community member back to your house to protect them?”
I laugh. “Just you,” I whisper.
Alex’s body breaks into chills. I see them down her arms and legs.
“Are you cold?”
“Opposite,” she whispers. Her eyes are on my lips.
The last time I had sex, three months ago, was in this bed with Grace. If Alex and I are to ever make love, it won’t be in this bed. I’ll burn this mattress. Buy a new one. Buy a new frame. Move the bed. Switch bedrooms. I want everything about Alex, and I barely know her.
Alex stares back at me. There’s a certain fire in her eyes, a feistiness I haven’t seen before. I take my fingertips and run them along her right arm. I want to take my hands and cup her breasts in a way that claims them to be mine and only mine. Touch them. Put my mouth around each one. Take care of them.
“Now what?” Her eyes burrow into mine, showing a vulnerable side to her, the one that needs protection. The one she fights not to be.