Chapter 11: The Shoebox

Hallie's POV

For a week after the blackout, we were polite to each other.

It was worse than fighting.

Declan took his boots off at the door.

I never mentioned it.

The woman across the hall saw them on the mat and put her hand over her heart.

He still would not sit at my table.

But on Thursday he stood at the counter while I made dinner.

He asked what the red pepper was for.

"It's for the sauce."

"Susie never put pepper in the chowder."

It was the first time he had said her name in my kitchen without being asked.

I kept my eyes on the pan.

"That's my question for today," I said. "Tell me about her."

He was quiet for a moment.

"She got up at four every morning to go out with the lobster boats."

"She said the bar paid the bills, but the water was the only honest work."

"Okay."

"On my second Sunday she handed me a knife and a cod."

"What did she say?"

"'You're going to be here a while, Dean. You might as well be useful.'"

He held up his thumb and showed me a thin white line.

"I cut myself. She laughed until she had to sit down."

I smiled before I could stop it.

"What else?"

"She made me eat. Every day. She wrote it on the refrigerator."

"That sounds like a good friend."

"She was the best one I ever had."

I turned the burner down.

"Hallie."

"Yes?"

"You asked me, the first night, if I slept with her."

My hand stopped on the spoon.

"No," Declan said. "Not once. Not a kiss."

"She told people we were together so the town wouldn't ask about the man behind her bar."