Page 80 of Unexpected

She gave me a tight smile and waved but didn’t say anything as Emmy chanted her greeting from her booster seat.

Emmy was still talking about the doll she had in her hands, but I turned my attention back to Becky. She closed the door on her talking daughter, and I heard Emmy’s muffled “heyyyy”from inside the car.

Becky wasn’t going to respond to my “hello,” so I tried a different tactic. “Did you and Chris ever figure out anything about the break-in?”

I didn’t miss the way her eyes slightly widened when I said her husband’s name. The entire encounter eerily similar to one I’d had with Hazel not too long before; with that thought, my eyes automatically scanned her body for marks, bruises. She was completely covered, though. “Nope.”

Please, not again. I thought for a moment and just decided to go for it. Repercussions be damned. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

She whipped her head around and glowered at me. She straightened from where she was about to open the driver’s side door and crossed her arms over her chest. “What does that mean? Just because I don’t look like I usually do doesn’t mean something’s wrong.”

I tried to hide the shock on my face. I scrubbed a hand over my mouth, contemplating what to say next. I’d never seen Becky even a little defensive. Something was definitely going on.

“You… you look like you’ve been crying.”

She threw her hands in the air in exasperation. “I’m a woman, I’m emotional. If that’s all, I’m going to leave. Bye, Luke.” And without another word, she hopped into her car and quickly backed out of the driveway.

Stunned, I didn’t move until her car was long gone, and I looked awkward standing in the middle of her driveway.

“Umm… Luke?” A voice I knew and that lightened something in my heart said from somewhere behind me.

I turned to find Hazel hugging a large brown box in her hands right outside of her garage.

“Hey, Angel,” I said, shaking off the strange interaction and crossing through the grass in our front yards. She set the box on top of another one labeled “living room” in black Sharpie and rearranged a few others that were stacked almost as tall as me.

“Were you talking to Becky?”

I nodded. “Yeah, she seemed weird. I think something’s going on, but she wasn’t going to give anything up.”

She walked back into the house, and I followed her. “Do you want to grab those boxes? I’m just moving them to the garage to give us more room in here,” she said as she attempted to lift one that was labeled “books” but quickly set it back down. I took the box instead, following her back out into the garage. “She brought Emmy over yesterday when it was pouring rain. She left her here for a few hours while she said she had to go handle a few things. She didn’t look or seem like herself at all, but when I took Emmy home later last night, it was like nothing happened.”

“Something’s going on, and it really reminds me of…” I trailed off, not wanting to compare any situation, but it was hard not to.

“Reminds you of me?” she asked. She set the box on top of another one, and I smoothed a hand down her back.

“Yeah, a little.”

She took a deep breath, turned around and wrapped her arms around my waist. The unprovoked display of affection felt like a few of her walls were slowly breaking down and she was letting me in. I was also thankful for her head against my chest that kept me from slipping into darker thoughts and her reading my expression that I fought to keep unreadable. Thoughts that made me question whether women who were abused or abusers just gravitated to me.

“Can you just keep an eye on her?”

“Of course, Angel,” I said, smoothing down her hair and kissing the top of her head. “Come on, let’s finish these boxes,” I said, more than ready for a change of subject.

She pressed up on her toes and kissed me softly before she smiled and pulled me back into the house.

Even with her own darkness clouding some of her thoughts and my own right there with her’s—just a lot older—it still all felt easier with her around.

We rearranged the packed boxes so it was easier for the movers to grab them and load them into the truck. And for a few hours, we easily worked side by side. I was more than happy to play Hazel’s muscle to move around furniture, haul bigger boxes outside or anything in between.

Much to my surprise, their garage was still filled with a lot of stuff Hazel had used in college—old pots and pans, appliances, furniture.

“Why’d you keep everything? It’s like you have two of everything.” I asked as I climbed off the ladder, pulling down more empty plastic bins to use for a few of the kitchen items she was taking from inside the house.

First, she just shrugged but eventually said, “I don’t know. When we moved in, so many people bought us new stuff, which replaced the stuff that’s now out here. But when I went to throw it out, I couldn’t. Something told me that I should keep it and maybe donate it later. Obviously, I never got around to it, and I’m glad I didn’t.” She dragged the bins back into the house and continued sifting through the few cabinets she hadn’t gone through yet.

“What else do you need to do?” I asked, hovering by the kitchen table and reliving our previous night. Laying her out like a meal for me to devour was the best thing I could have asked for. The memories of her spread out on the table, writhing under my tongue, would stay with me forever.

“Umm… I’m not sure.” I looked up at where she stood on the short step stool, hearing the obvious change in her tone just as one of her legs slipped out from under her. I sprang into action as quickly as I could, crossing the kitchen and darting my arms out to at least break her fall. I caught her in just enough time with one hand around her hip and the other gripped tightly around her arm.

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