Trouble From the Start Read online

Dad’s car was gone, which was odd because it had been there when I got home. Maybe he got called out while I was in the shower.

  I grabbed my phone and hit Photos. The flash had illuminated our names in the sand. The exact moment that I took the picture, the foamy tide was tickling the edge of the heart. I wanted to think that they would still be there when I returned to work tonight, but I knew they would probably be gone. If not by the tide, then by the beachgoers who walked and played along the edge of the beach.

  But it didn’t matter. Tough-guy-of-few-words Fletcher had drawn our names in the sand. They’d been part of the earth and now they’d be part of the ocean, traveling the world.

  Such fanciful thoughts, but I guess they came from being in love. And I did love him. What if my parents’ expectations were only that I be happy? Fletcher met those expectations exceedingly well. And if they were disappointed, I’d deal with it, because Fletcher was worth it.

  I needed to let him know.

  I trotted down the stairs. I heard movement in the kitchen. Probably Mom. I tiptoed to the front door and slipped out. Dawn was arriving, painting the sky in a vibrant hue of pinks and oranges. I dashed across the driveway and up the stairs.

  I knocked on the door. Waited. Knocked again. “Fletcher?”

  Nothing. No sound. No movement. But he had to be here. His bike was here.

  I knocked again. Silence. “I know you’re mad, but we need to talk. Or I need to talk. You don’t have to say anything, but please listen. I can explain why I said what I did. I know it was wrong and stupid—” I sighed heavily. “Fletcher, open the door. Please.”

  Only he didn’t. I tried the handle. The door was locked. Frustration slammed into me. I wanted to fix things. I knew there was an extra key in a drawer in the kitchen. Would it be wrong of me to use it?

  Yes.

  “You can’t avoid me forever,” I called out. At some point he would eat with the family. Mom and Dad would insist. He couldn’t stay in there forever. I thought about sitting on the steps and waiting. Probably better to leave him alone to mope for a bit. I didn’t know how to handle a fight with a guy. I’d never had one.

  As a matter of fact, I couldn’t recall ever having a fight with anyone.

  I wandered back to the house and walked into the kitchen. Mom was sitting at the island.

  “Hey, honey,” she said, but she sounded . . . off.

  “Where’s Dad?” I asked as I took the stool beside her.

  She gave me an odd smile, one of reassurance and maybe embarrassment. “There was a robbery last night. He got the call around three.”

  I sat up straighter. “He’s okay, right?”

  Reaching across, Mom squeezed my arm. “He’s fine. I’m sorry. I should have led with that. He’s fine, but they have a person of interest and he’s dealing with that.”

  Relief washed through me and I sat back. “Thank goodness.” I thought about making some tea, but I didn’t feel like drinking anything. I wasn’t interested in breakfast either. I was worried about how upset Fletcher was. Maybe I should ask my mom for advice.

  “Avery,” Mom said softly.

  I looked back at her. All the lines in her face had deepened with worry. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

  “The person of interest . . . it’s Fletcher.”

  I stared at her as though she’d suddenly started speaking in Klingon. I pushed myself off the stool. “Wait a minute.”

  Was that why Fletcher didn’t open the door? Why Dad’s car was there when I got home but wasn’t there now? He’d taken Fletcher in? “What are you talking about? Why would Fletcher be a person of interest?”

  “Smiley’s was robbed.”

  “So?”

  “Apparently the evidence points to Fletcher.”

  “That’s crazy! He loves working there. He wouldn’t do something like that.”

  “Calm down.”

  “Calm down? This is Fletcher we’re talking about.”

  “I know. I don’t want to believe it either. I don’t know the details. Only that your dad took him in for questioning.”

  Took him in for questioning. I’d never before realized how ominous those words sounded. “Why would Dad do that? It couldn’t have been Fletcher.”

  She held up her hands. “I know you like him . . .”

  I more than liked him. I loved him. I believed in him. And I knew he couldn’t have done it, because he’d been with me. All night.

  Neither of my parents was going to be happy about that. I had been the girl who followed the straight and narrow, who never got into trouble, was never late with her homework, never did anything she wasn’t supposed to do. Until Fletcher.

  They’d blame him, even though it had been my idea. Right from the start we were going to be announcing loud and clear that they couldn’t trust us. But Fletcher would have no choice except to tell my dad everything. Dad would know where I’d been, who I’d been with. What we’d been up to.

  All their expectations regarding me were about to be crushed. I was so terrified of what their reaction might be, but I was more worried about Fletcher. Surely he had told my dad before he’d been taken to the station. Had Dad not believed him because it seemed like something so out of character for me? Fletcher had to be so scared.

  I heard a car pull into the drive. I rushed through the house, raced through the front door, and staggered to a stop when Dad got out of his car—alone. “Where’s Fletcher?” I demanded.

  Dad heaved a heavy sigh. “Still at the station.”

  “You can’t possibly think he robbed the shop.”

  “About three o’clock this morning, a tow truck driver was dropping off a car. He noticed lights on in the office. Found Smiley. He was mumbling Fletcher’s name. Unfortunately he’s now in a coma, so we’re short on details. Don Johnson confirmed money was missing and that Fletcher has a key.”

  “None of that proves anything,” I said indignantly.

  “He doesn’t have an alibi. I know he wasn’t here most of the night, because they called me when they realized what Smiley had been saying. I went to his room and waited until he showed up at dawn. When he walked through his door and saw me sitting on the couch, the guilt washing over his face—I’ve never in my life seen anyone look so guilty.”

  He was looking guilty because he’d been out with me and thought he’d gotten caught. But something else Dad said struck me as more important. “What do you mean he didn’t have an alibi?”

  “He said he was alone last night. No one can vouch for his whereabouts.”

  I felt as though I’d taken a solid blow to the chest. Fletcher had lied. But why? Because I’d told him that I didn’t want my parents to know about us? Because I’d made him think I was ashamed of him? My knees grew weak. I staggered back.

  Dad grabbed my arm, stopped me from falling down. “Avery?”

  I shook my head, the words lodged in my throat. Fletcher must have thought I’d rather let him go to jail than back up his alibi. Did he really think I’d do that?

  He’d been concerned that he wouldn’t know how to be a boyfriend. He’d cared enough about me to worry about it. When the truth was: I didn’t know how to be a girlfriend. He deserved a lot better than me.

  He’d once told me that easy wasn’t always the right choice. He didn’t always choose easy. Until this moment I had.

  “He does have an alibi, Dad.”

  My dad arched his brow. “Oh?”

  Swallowing hard, I nodded. “He was with me.”

  “When?”

  The word came out like a gunshot. Harsh. Short.

  “Shortly after I got in from work. We went to the beach. We were there together until almost dawn.”

  “Jack?” Mom said hesitantly, and I looked over to see her arms crossed over her chest, not like she was mad, but like she wanted to hug me but wasn’t sure she should.

  “Avery says she was with Fletcher last night,” Dad said.

  “I can prove it,” I said quickly, and dug my