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Chapter One
Lucy wiped down the last of the tables, her feet aching from the double shift she had just pulled at the diner. The sun had already set, and she couldn’t wait to head home. Cindy, a coworker and someone she considered a friend, approached with an apologetic smile.
“Hey, Lucy,” Cindy began, wringing her hands nervously. “Do you mind closing up tonight? I’ve got a date, and it’s kinda important.”
Lucy glanced up, exhaustion weighing heavily on her. She had been on her feet since the morning shift, her muscles screaming for a break. But seeing the hopeful look in Cindy’s eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to say no. She nodded tiredly, forcing a small smile.
“Sure, Cindy. Go ahead. Have fun,” Lucy managed to say.
Relief washed over Cindy’s face, and she hesitated for a moment before asking, “Do you have any plans for tonight? It’s Friday, after all.”
Lucy’s smile turned wistful as she thought of her mysterious, reclusive neighbor, Carver. When she first moved into the old apartment building, it seemed just like any other rundown place she had rented before—peeling wallpaper, creaky floors, and the constant hum of traffic outside her window.
The building was a far cry from safe, and Lucy, having grown up in this neighborhood, knew better than to be complacent. She always slept with a gun under her pillow, a precaution she considered necessary.
One night, not long after she moved in, Lucy came home to find two men rifling through her belongings. She could see the malice in their eyes as they turned to face her. Panic seized her, and she screamed, fully expecting no one to come to her aid. But to her shock, Carver burst through the door, a shotgun in hand. She didn’t know how he managed to scare the two intruders off.
Since then, Carver had been a quiet but reassuring presence in her life. He rarely spoke, and when he did, it was in short, clipped sentences. ITALY
He was a puzzle she couldn’t quite solve and yet some part—the sensible part—of her brain told her to stay away from a guy like Carver. But Lucy didn’t want to. There was something about him that drew her in.
Lucy blinked, bringing herself back to the present. She looked at Cindy and shrugged.
“Nothing special,” she said softly. “Just a quiet night in.”
Cindy grinned and gave Lucy a quick hug. “Thanks a million, Lucy! I owe you one.”
As Cindy dashed out the door, Lucy sighed and glanced at the clock. She still had a few more tasks to complete before she could head home. Thoughts of Carver lingered in her mind. She couldn’t deny the spark of interest she felt whenever she saw him, the way her heart seemed to beat a little faster.
It was silly, the way she was crushing on her neighbor—a guy she knew next to nothing about. But Lucy had been dealt bad cards by fate before.
She had a string of failed relationships under her belt, and something told her Carver might be different. All Lucy needed to do was take a chance on a stranger.
Finishing up the closing duties, Lucy finally turned off the lights and locked the diner’s door. The night air was cool against her skin as she made her way back to her apartment building, the familiar sense of vigilance returning.
She climbed the worn steps, the sound echoing in the quiet stairwell. When she reached her door, she paused for a moment, glancing down the hall toward Carver’s apartment. For a brief second, she considered knocking, just to see if he was there. But then she shook her head, chuckling softly to herself.
Lucy needed a plan. The last time she knocked on his door, she asked him for help with her clogged sink. It was a simple request, but it had given her an excuse to talk to him, to break through the wall of silence that seemed to surround him.
He had helped her with quiet efficiency, fixing the sink in no time, and their brief interaction had left her wanting more. As she entered her apartment and locked the door behind her, Lucy leaned against the door for a moment, closing her eyes.
It had been a long day. Her feet were sore, and her body ached for rest. But one thing that might cheer her up was seeing Carver’s face and trading a few words with him. She knew how pathetic she was, but she’d taken enough blows in life to know when to generate her own pockets of happiness.
She moved to the small kitchen, setting her bag on the counter, and glanced around, looking for another excuse to knock on his door. Maybe she could ask to borrow something simple—a cup of sugar, a screwdriver, anything that would give her a reason to see him again.
Lucy chuckled at the thought, realizing how cliché it was, but right now, she didn’t care. She filled a kettle with water and set it on the stove, deciding a cup of tea would help her unwind. As she waited for it to boil, her mind wandered back to Carver.
What was his story? Why did he choose to live in this rundown building, keeping to himself? The questions swirled in her mind, and she felt a growing curiosity, a need to know more about the man who had come to her rescue and seemed to have his share of secrets.
The kettle whistled, snapping her out of her thoughts. She poured the hot water into a mug, watching the steam rise as she dipped a tea bag in.
Sipping the tea, she tried to come up with a plausible reason to visit Carver. Maybe she could thank him again for helping her with the sink, even though it had been weeks ago. Or perhaps she could simply be honest, admit she was curious about him, and see where the conversation led.
The more she thought about it, the more determined she became. She set her mug down and straightened her shoulders, feeling a surge of resolve.
Tonight, she would knock on Carver’s door, not with a pretext or an excuse, but with the intention of getting to know him better. Bringing a dessert wouldn’t hurt either.
Lucy loved to bake, even if it wasn’t the most practical hobby considering her tight budget. But baking calmed her in a way nothing else did. Tonight, she decided to make a mean apple pie. The apples had been on sale at the store the day before, so she had a few on hand.
