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Chapter Twenty-Eight
Monroe
I was a firm believer in the power of routine. Thus, when Monday dawned, clear and sunny and no Knox in my bed, I leaned hard on what little routine I’d developed here in Safe Harbor. My years in the navy had shown me that any manner of hard things could be overcome through a routine. Need to pass a fitness test? Make exercise as routine as teeth brushing. Need to handle a complicated court-martial case? Work through all the steps in the investigation, each detail part of a routine. Need to deal with the loss of a buddy? Routine, routine, routine.
Even before the navy, routine had saved me. When my mother died, my dad kept us on a strict schedule of school, work, exercise, dinner. Years later, I was able to see things I’d hated at the time, like up early on Saturdays to clean, as light buoys illuminating an endless ocean of grief. When I came to stay with Aunt Henri, routine had been my friend then too. Wake up. Make bed. School. Watch a mystery with her. Parts of her habits had become mine, providing soothing normalcy at another time when I could have gone adrift.
Out of the navy and back in Safe Harbor, I’d struggled with sticking to the rigid routine the navy had required. Finding what worked for me in this strange new landscape of post-service life had been a challenge. And then Knox had barged into my life, so far outside my carefully crafted rules for myself. But somehow, over the weeks together, I’d finally found my footing, little rituals and schedules that served me.
But the too-quiet house and start of a new week, one with little hope of a resolution with Knox, had me off my game. My feet had seemed to drag uphill through wet cement my whole run. Same route as usual, different me. He’d changed me, and I wasn’t sure a change back was possible or if I wanted such a thing.
And now I was in the grocery store, list in hand, unsure why I’d come other than routine. But sticking to a schedule wasn’t doing a damn thing to make me miss Knox less. We remained in the same house, but forty-eight hours of tapdancing around each other, no talking or touching, had worn me down. I’d sniffed his shampoo in the shower. Used his almond hemp creamer in my coffee. Taken a swipe of the thick hand lotion he kept by the kitchen sink. No use. Missed Knox that much more.
I saw reminders of him in every aisle of the grocery store, every box and can I examined, to the point where I was tempted to abandon the whole damn cart. And it didn’t help that my phone had buzzed three times since eight a.m. The realtor friend of Rob and Jessica’s was eager to pitch me her proposal for the house, and I should have been similarly eager to hear it, move on, and get out of town.
But I wasn’t.
And that had me even grumpier when I heard my name at the end of the cereal aisle. “Monroe!”
Frank and Leon, owners of Measure Twice and Knox’s bosses, were apparently also doing a Monday-morning stock-up. The taller Frank was pushing a full cart with Leon beside him toting a long baguette in one hand and a list in the other.
“Frank. Leon.” Forcing a smile, I greeted them each in turn. “How are you?”
“Damn good.” Frank nodded. He’d always had that military bearing and authoritative voice, but as far as I knew, he’d lived his whole life in Safe Harbor and always worked construction. Measure Twice had already been a successful small business when I was in high school, and like back then, I reflexively stood a little taller when Frank spoke. “The weekend away was exactly what the doctor ordered.”
“Well, maybe not exactly…” Leon’s tone was mischievous, and Frank’s blush further gave his meaning away.
“Hush.”
“I’m glad the trip went well.” I leaned on my cart, wanting out of the small talk but also knowing an empty house awaited me. “Knox mentioned you went to a B&B he found.”
“Yep. There was a time when that sort of spontaneous weekend away wouldn’t have been possible for us.” Frank gave me a level stare, the sort that had intimidated me as a teen, but now I saw a kinship there, an acknowledgment of our similarities.
“Then came all the years of word-of-mouth and travel guides for the confirmed bachelor,” Leon added with a laugh.
“Yeah, the world sure has come a long way,” I agreed, thinking of their link, both to queer history but also to this area. Back in high school, they’d been one of the first same-sex couples I’d known, and even then, it had been one of those open secret things, not the wedding rings and shared property of the present. “You’ve always lived here, right? Never tempted to go somewhere…easier?”
