“You could always say no.”
“That’s not as easy as swiping left, Alice.”
He walked inside and she followed him, trying not to take his comment as a criticism. The house was back to its usual state of clean clutter—a lot like Alice’s bedroom—but the kitchen was a little more chaotic. A trail of cocoa spilled across the counter and the sink was full of dirty baking implements. Lopsided cupcakes cooled on a rack and a cooler and picnic basket sat on the floor.
Alice handed Harry the large butcher’s. “I didn’t know what everyone liked so I got a mixture of plain, herb and garlic and a couple of chili sausages.”
“Sounds perfect, thanks.” He pulled out his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
“My treat.”
“Don’t feel you need to pay for them just because you collected them.”
“I can afford to buy a few sausages, Harry!” The quick rise of irritation came out of nowhere, blasting furnace heat across her skin. She jerkily pulled at her jacket, ripping it off, desperate to cool down. Sweat pooled beneath her eyes. Sweat or tears? She didn’t know.
Harry lifted her jacket out of her hands and hung it on a chair, then he opened the freezer. He offered an icepack. “Stick that on the back of your neck.”
Alice wished the floor would open and snatch her away. When she didn’t move, Harry put the cold pack in place for her. The instant chill killed the fulminating heat almost as fast as it had flamed her, but its presence meant Harry knew exactly what was going on. His kindness had exposed her mortifying and devastating secret.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Do. Not. Cry. “Thanks.” Her voice wobbled on the word.
Harry shrugged as if it was no big deal to be handing an icepack to a woman in his kitchen. “H used to get hot flashes.”
“Yes, but I don’t have cancer!”
“Which is wonderful,” he said gently.
But this was her personal nightmare and she didn’t want him lessening it. “What I mean is, I shouldn’t be getting hot flashes at thirty-four. They should be twenty years away.”
“HRT will help, won’t it?”
“Nothing will help me have a baby.”
His face fell into sad, well-worn lines. “Shit. Alice. That was thoughtless. I’m so cancer focused, I—Sorry. I know how much you wanted kids.”
His remorse and her grief pulled her forward and she almost moved in for a hug. At the last moment, she realized what she was doing and spun around, tugging open the freezer. What was she thinking? This was Harry. They couldn’t get through a single conversation without one of them feeling the need to apologize.
“As soon as the kids get home we’ll head out,” Harry said to her back.
She appreciated his change of topic and turned to the thump of sausages being dropped into the cooler. “Just to be clear, I’m hopeless at getting fires going. I’ll stick to drawing with Holly and leave the campfire to you and Hunter.”
“I’ve been using firelighters for years so I may not be much better.”
“Should we make sandwiches just in case?”
“Jeez, Alice. You’re tough on a bloke. Have some faith.”
She laughed. “It’s nothing to do with faith and everything to do with not going hungry.”
The side gate banged and Hunter’s greetings to Brutus floated into the kitchen.
“Hi, mate, how was your day?” Harry said as his son rushed inside.
“You made chocolate cupcakes? Cool. Oh, hi, Alice. So that’s why there’s cake. Dad never makes it for us.” Hunter dropped his bag where he stood and reached for a chocolate delight.
“Hands! And bag.” Harry caught Hunter by the back of the shirt, returned his backpack to him, kissed him on the top of the head and turned him in the direction of the bathroom.
“You better be quick, Hunter,” Alice teased. “I hold the record in my family for eating the most cupcakes in the shortest time.”
“Don’t eat them all!” Hunter bolted to the bathroom.
The screen door squeaked and Brutus snuck in, head low, followed by Holly.
“How was your day?” Harry asked.
But Holly kept her head down and pushed straight past him, disappearing into the hall. A moment later, a door slammed.
Hunter reappeared, holding his hands up for inspection. “Can I have some milk?”
“Did something happen on the ride home to upset your sister?” Harry asked.
Hunter shrugged.
“Did you do or say something to upset her?”
“Nup. She was sad before we left school.”
“Back in a sec, Alice.” Frowning, Harry left the room.
Seemingly unperturbed by his sister’s meltdown, Hunter poured himself a glass of milk and sat at the table with his drink and cake. Brutus gave Alice a leery glance and settled like a bag of bones on the other side of Hunter’s chair, using him as a shield from scary Alice.
“Alice, do you know chocolate makes dogs really sick?”
“Does it?” Alice asked, knowing full well that it did, but happy to chat.
“Yep. Cos of the theo-something in the cocoa. The vet told me.”
“Theobromide.”
“Theobromide,” Hunter repeated before stuffing his mouth with cake. He asked Alice something else, but the question was muffled by the food.
“How about you finish that mouthful first, then ask me.”
“Um, Alice.” Harry reappeared in the kitchen. “Can I have a word?”
“Sure.” She followed him into the other room. “Is it Holly?”
“She’s crying a river and she won’t tell me what’s wrong. All I’ve managed to get out of her is that it isn’t me, Hunter, or her mom …” He blew out a breath. “I don’t know what to do next. She hasn’t been this distraught in a long time. Even when H died … Can you have a word with her? Find out what the hell’s going on?”
Harry’s distress and worry ringed her, hooking onto her own concern for Holly. “I can try. But, Harry, if she didn’t tell you, she probably won’t tell me.”
He shrugged. “You chat a couple of times a week when you do art. I reckon it’s worth a shot.”
Alice knocked on Holly’s door then opened it and walked into the room. The
