Page 39 of The Enemy Plot

“Alsace, so in the Northeast part of the country. I loved it there, and I miss it a lot, especially my dad. I’m actually going back this summer with my brother and Hayley.”

I take a moment to let her words sink in. “What do you prefer? Alsace or New York?”

She chuckles. “They’re two very different places. I love both, but if Ihadto choose, I’d choose Brooklyn because that’s where I feel most like myself. I do what I love with people I love, and there is no better feeling in the world. Have you ever been to France?”

That draws a laugh from me. “Before moving to Brooklyn, I spent all my life within the Sycamore Springs citylimits. If you don’t count the few trips I took to see Amelia and Lola before that.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Were you and your sister close?”

I shrug. “Honestly, I’m not sure. She told Lola we were, and while that was true as kids, we drifted apart when she moved away. She was always so independent. Lola’s dad was never in the picture, but Amelia handled everything like a pro, even at a young age. She didn’t come back here often, enjoying her life in New York and, well, I wasn’t a fan of the city.”

“Are you? A fan of the city now, I mean? You used past tense.”

I smile. “Our street isn’t so bad. The neighbors are a little intrusive, but . . .”

“I think you mean ‘loud.’” She pokes my arm with her finger.

“‘Sensitive ears’ is what I was going for,” I tease. For a moment, I debate telling her why I crank up my music every morning. Weirdly, it feels natural to talk with her about it. Dr. S. would definitely encourage me. “The music was a way to block out the noise in my head.” I clear my throat. “I wasn’t exactly there for Amelia in the end, and I hate myself for it. Even if she lived in the city, I should have visited more often.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Deacon. You don’t hold any responsibility for what happened to her.”

Dr. S. said the same thing, and now Alice. The rational part in me wants to believe that, but I’m a pretty irrational man. “I lost my mom too,” I add, not sure why I’m still babbling about my personal history to her. It’s not exactly my style, but she opened up about her past, and it feels right. “It was my dad’s fault; he was driving drunk and crashed the car over a bridge.”

She lets out a gasp. “Oh, Deacon. I am so sorry.”

Guilt rises in my throat. “My father has been in prison ever since.”

“So, who raised you and your sister?”

“Our grandmother—a true angel, although she was a bit of a grouch,” I say, feeling a smile on my lips. “We were lucky to have her. Thanks to my grandma, our childhood was somewhat normal. She died a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m glad she was there to care for you and your sister.”

I stay silent, and a few seconds later, I feel Alice’s hand on mine. She turns my palm and takes it in hers. The touch is both electrifying and oddly soothing. A bizarre mix that goes straight to my chest.

“I’m here for you, Deacon.”

“Thank you, Frenchie.”

And for the first time since my grandma died, I really feel like I have someone to count on. That I’m not alone in this world. I never thought that would make me feel so warm and at ease. Alice and I keep our conversation going for hours, and I can’t believe how easy it is to talk to her. Turns out, I’m not such a loner after all.

16

Hooked

Alice

This trip has been a lot more fun than I expected. I survived my night with Deacon—I mean, my night in the wilderness—and he revealed a new side of himself to me. Deacon is not a true grump, more like a cinnamon roll in a grump costume, except his costume is sticking to him like glue and doesn’t come off that easily. But when it does? Oh, it will be spectacular, and I hope I’ll be here for it. Last night, he confided in me, and I think we both understand each other a little more. I felt a connection tohim, probably because we both experienced loss, and I’m glad he told me about his past. I’m guessing he doesn’t open up with many people, so I’m honored he felt safe enough to share his story with me. There are still many more layers to his personality, but I’m glad I’m starting to see the real Deacon.

Even if our little camping trip was kind of fun, I’m dying to get back to the rental home. I need a shower, and fast. My skin feels itchy, and my hair, like it’s hosting a family of forest animals. I don’t care if Deacon says there’s nothing in it—Ifeelit.

Lola is just as eager for a shower, and we pretty much race to the only bathroom in the rental home. Unfortunately for me, she wins. I wish I could say I let her win because she’s a kid, but I’m not that mature, especially when it comes to hygiene.

I’m currently watching Deacon unload the truck, and he looks as handsome as ever, as if a night in the wild didn’t alter his sex appeal one bit. Who am I kidding? Of course it did, only in his case, it increased it. His hair is tousled, begging for me to run my fingers through it, and his black sweater seems to highlight his biceps. And now that I know there’s a broken man underneath that hardened exterior, even his permanent frown makes himattractive. Because I know why he sports it, and I better understand the hardships he’s faced to get here.

“Are you okay?” He stops in the living room, both hands on his hips.

I instinctively press my lips together, hoping I’m not shamelessly drooling. But luckily, they’re dry. “I’m fine. Just eager for a shower. I feel so gross.”

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