14. Alternate Reality

14

Alternate Reality

Alice

Deacon will be picking Lola and me up at the end of the street, since no cars are allowed in Warlington Lane during the day. He keeps his truck in a garage a few blocks away, and he insisted on having it checked out by a mechanic before we hit the road. I appreciate his level of caution. He was admittedly stressed this morning, over-checking that he'd packed everything, but I'm similar in that way. I packed and repacked three times to make sure I was good to go .

"Are you having second thoughts?" Lola asks, scrolling on her phone.

"You have a phone?" I ask, my eyes widening.

"Oh yeah," she says with a bright smile. "Deacon gave me one for my birthday. It's not the latest model, but at least I can keep up with people from school."

"You mean Beanie Boy?" I wink, and she flushes. "Well, I'm glad," I add, then notice she has the Instagram app open. "Oh, you're on Instagram?"

She winces. "Um, yeah, but my uncle didn't exactly allow that. Please don't say anything to him." Her eyes are pleading. "I'm only on Bookstagram. I don't even use it for anything else, and I don't post much."

I hesitate. The right thing to do would be to tell Deacon. He's her guardian, and if he has forbidden her from using the app, he should know. But if I do say something, she'll probably just make another account anyway. And this way, I can follow her, see what she's up to. At least one of us will have an in. "Okay," I say with a faint smile. "I won't say a thing. What's your handle? We can follow each other. I have a pretty active account."

She beams. "Cool! I found the bookstore's account too. "

We exchange handles, and she accepts my follow request just as Deacon is pulling up to the curb. With a knowing look, she slips her phone in her pocket.

I do feel a little bad keeping this from Deacon, but I also believe I'm doing the right thing. If I see a single thing that's weird or concerning on her account, he'll be the first to know.

"All right," he says, parking in an empty spot along the street. "Let's go. Hopefully, there won't be too much traffic. And those clouds will clear out," he adds with a grimace.

Looks like Captain Cranky is back in town. Although it could just be his anxiety talking. We load the truck bed with an outrageous amount of luggage for just four days, then pile into the car. Naturally, I sit in the passenger seat next to Deacon, and Lola is behind him, but this setup feels a little weird—intimate, almost. Like a family going on a road trip together. Except we're not. Well, they are. I'm just tagging along.

His car is nothing like the one I had in France. It's old, there's dust on the dashboard, and it smells like wood and mountains. Like Deacon. That one detail helps me ignore the complete lack of neatness. It's reassuring, comforting, like when you're wrapped in a blanket with a hot cocoa and a good book .

"I have snacks and a romance audiobook," I say, grabbing my phone and a few bags of snacks from my purse. "Who's with me?"

"Yeah!" Lola exclaims from the back seat.

"Sorry." I glance at Deacon's face, which is tainted by his signature frown. "Majority rules."

He gives me a pointed look. "You did that on purpose," he mumbles in a low voice.

"Well, I am going to the wilderness for you," I say, matching his tone. "Listening to an audiobook doesn't even compare."

Rolling his eyes, he focuses on the road while I plug my phone into the pickup's sound system. This is going to be an awesome trip.

Six hours later, the audiobook—which we enjoyed with Deacon's grouchy commentary—is at the halfway point as we're parking in front of the small house Deacon rented for the trip. Since the moment we left Brooklyn, he seemed to relax with every passing mile, even if we did ask for too many pee stops along the way.

"Finally," he says, sucking in a long breath. "Some real air. "

I'm not an outdoorsy person, but he's not wrong. I can already tell the air here is a lot cleaner. I grew up in a tiny village in Alsace, so I really notice New York's pollution problem.

We unload the car and haul our luggage into the house. It's modest, with a living room opening into a dining room and an independent kitchen in the back. But the best feature has to be the large floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks a wooden deck and the sprawling lake beyond. Pretty spectacular.

Upstairs are three bedrooms and a bathroom. Part of me was kind of hoping for a one-bed situation—it is my favorite trope, after all—but unfortunately, Deacon thought of everything.

We quickly go to our rooms to unpack and meet back in the living room.

"Well," Deacon says, both hands on his hips as he sweeps his gaze around the room. "It's not my former house, and it's the wrong side of the lake, but it'll do."

"There's a wrong side of the lake?" I frown. I'm pretty sure it looks stunning from every angle.

"Of course, but only natives know about it. Well, it seems like tourists have caught on too now, since I couldn't get a rental there. "

I suppress a chuckle. "Looks pretty good to me. Should we go get some groceries?"

Lola comes down the stairs at the same time, and five minutes later, we're back in the car. On our way to the "good" grocery store, Deacon points out a few of his favorite spots and curiosities, and I love seeing him like this—so different from back home. His frown is struggling to stay on while his smile fights to break free. I see his lips twitching an awful lot.

We park in front of the grocery store, and as soon as we get out, a guy with a large beard and bushy hair calls, "Deacon, is that you?"

"Russell," Deacon says with a genuine smile. "Good to see you, man."

I blink in shock, glancing around. It's like I'm in a parallel world or something. Everything looks the same, but it couldn't be more different. After Deacon introduces us to Russell, Lola and I disappear into the store while the two catch up. We grab a basket and start shopping.

We know exactly when Deacon enters, because it's punctuated with a loud "Deacon, my boy!" from the lady at the register.

"Is your uncle a rockstar here or something?" I whisper to Lola, a smile tugging at my lips .

"Seems like it." She shrugs. "Never seen him so popular."

"Or talkative," I add, spying from above the produce section.

He chats with a few more people, and then finally joins us, a full smile on his face. The kind that knocks you off your feet. Literally, in my case. I trip on my other foot before falling on my butt. Only problem? I take down a large Reese's display in my wake, sending Reese's pieces, cups, and pretzels skittering across the floor. Under different circumstances, I'd be in heaven right now surrounded by all this candy. Throw in a fluffy blanket and a book, and I'd be set for hours. Except I'm not.

"Are you okay?" Deacon says, his frown returning as he extends a hand.

"Yes." I take his hand before slipping on a stray package, almost falling again. The way Deacon is looking at me, mixed with the sensation of his callused hand against my soft one, makes me dizzy. Suddenly, I wonder if I didn't just take a blow to the head. What is happening? Forget parallel worlds. I feel like I'm in a romcom right now. It's as if everything else has faded around us. "I'm fine," I manage to say, my throat suddenly dry .

We start to clean everything up, and the lady from the register comes to help us. Her name is Renee, and she's known Deacon her whole life.

"I'm so sorry. I'm such a klutz. Honestly, I don't know what happened." Wrong. I know exactly what happened. Deacon Collier's elated smile, that's what happened.

"It's all right, dear." Renee says with a sweet grin. "Don't worry about it."

Deacon is still wearing that amused look, but he doesn't comment further.

"Now I know why you like to come here," I whisper once the lady hustles away. "I bet Renee let you get away with anything when you were younger, didn't she?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says with a knowing glint in his eye before walking away toward the meat section.

We finish our grocery shopping—including a few packs of Reese's—and just when Deacon finishes paying, someone else calls his name. The three of us turn to see a pretty girl, probably in her late twenties, wearing a stunned expression. And possibly drooling.

Renee, we're going to need a mop over by the register, ASAP.

"Hi, I didn't know you were back," she says, tucking a strand of glossy hair behind her ear .

"Hey, Nat. I'm not back. Just visiting."

"Oh, okay." She adjusts the strap of her bag, her gaze flitting between Lola and me.

"This is my niece, Lola, and my friend Alice," he says. We both wave awkwardly at Nat, who's still ogling Deacon. Suddenly, I wish we'd agreed on a fake dating situation for some far-fetched reason. Then, it would be only natural for me to lean against Deacon or intertwine my arm with his. Heck, I would even kiss him if it'd stop Nat from eyeing him up. I get it, he's a fine specimen. Now move along. He's not interested.

Or is he? I never once saw him dating in New York, but maybe that's not because he's a grump who'd rather be alone, like I first thought. Maybe his heart belongs to someone else. Someone he was forced to leave behind.

"Well, we should catch up while you're here," she suggests, being as obvious as a neon sign.

I steal a glance at Lola, who scrunches her nose—exactly how I feel. I wonder if my face is just as transparent.

"Um, yeah," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I won't exactly have time this week, and it's a family trip, so . . ."

My heart jolts at the same time that Nat's shoulders drop. He just said "family trip." And I'm a part of it. Take that, Nat .

But the girl looks genuinely disappointed, and suddenly, I feel bad for her. When did I turn into such a crappy person?

"Well, I'd better go, then. Bye." She waves before hurrying toward the back of the store.

Deacon doesn't look one bit bothered by that encounter. Now I feel really bad for Nat. Men are so oblivious to women's feelings sometimes, and even if they don't mean it, we often end up hurt in the process.

Once we reach the parking lot, we meet more of Deacon's fan club before heading back to our home away from home for the next few days. I really wish I could go back in time and see what he was like when he was living here. It's as if I'm seeing the real Deacon for the first time, and he's so different from the one I know. But that doesn't surprise me one bit. I read way too many romance novels to stop at appearances, especially when it comes to brooding men with attitude problems.

"So," he says, bringing me out of my reverie as we zip down the tree-lined road. "I was thinking tomorrow, we could go on the hiking trip. The forecast for the next two days is perfect, so that way, we don't take any chances. There's a great place to camp out near a cascade."

"Sure. That works for me," I say, trying to muster up some enthusiasm, even though I hate everything he just said. But I know it's important to him. He really needs this. Besides, I know Lola is only here because of me.

"Great," Lola mumbles with a fake smile. "Can I at least have my own tent?"

Deacon's frown returns in full swing. "I don't think that's—"

She blows out a long breath. "Of course. Why did I ask? I can never be alone for one second, even if you'd literally be in the next tent over."

"Deacon, I think it's not such an unreasonable request." I know contradicting him on this is a risky move, but I do want this trip to be fun for Lola. I don't see the big deal, and that way, she can have the sense of freedom she desperately needs.

He glances at me for a second, and I urge him with my eyes.

He sighs, gripping the wheel tight with both hands. "Fine," he grumbles at me. "But I only have two tents, so if she gets her own, you and I will have to share."

"Yes!" Lola exclaims from behind.

Thank heavens I'm safely seated in the passenger seat. Otherwise, I would have knocked down an entire aisle of the supermarket with that blow. I wanted a one-bed situation, and the universe just served it to me on a silver platter. But you know what they say. We should be careful what we wish for, because it may very well come true.