The key sticks in the lock longer than it should, my hands still shaking from talking to Rachel.
I push through my front door, anger radiating off me like heat from pavement, and freeze.
Alyssa’s curled up on my couch, sobbing. Her blonde hair hangs in messy curtains around her face, and when she looks up at me, her green eyes are completely bloodshot. Tears streak down her cheeks in wet tracks that catch the afternoon light streaming through my windows.
“Where the fuck were you?” Her voice cracks on the words, raw from crying.
I blink at her, my brain struggling to shift gears from Rachel’s bullshit to this. “Me? You were gone when I woke up.”
She runs both hands through her hair, pulling at it like she’s trying to yank thoughts out of her skull. “I had to deal with something.”
I stare at her, my eyes wide with the anger that’s still burning through my chest. But it’s not for her. It’s for Rachel, for her certainty that I’m some kind of monster, for the way she looked at me like I was broken beyond repair. Alyssa just happens to be here while I’m still processing the urge to put my fist through a wall.
I walk up to her, still not entirely sure she’s real. Maybe I’m having another episode. Maybe I’m sitting in that coffee shop right now, completely dissociated while Rachel calls an ambulance.
I cup her face in both hands.
Her eyes go wide with surprise, that bloodshot green brightening as a blush spreads across her tear-stained cheeks. My boldness catches her off guard, and I can see her trying to process this version of me that actually reaches out and touches without asking permission.
“Can you stand up for me?”
She does it immediately, unfolding from the couch with a partial smile starting to crack through the tears.
“Where were you?” she asks again, but softer this time.
Instead of answering, I start circling her. Slowly, deliberately, like I’m inspecting merchandise. I poke her shoulder. Her hip. The small of her back. Each touch makes her jump slightly, but she doesn’t move away.
“Stop fucking around and tell me where you went, Caleb!” Her voice rises, but there’s something breathless underneath the irritation. “A wife has a right to know!”
I complete my circle and reach out to squeeze her ass. The blush that was fading comes roaring back, spreading down her neck and disappearing beneath her shirt. She makes hungry eyes at me, pupils dilating like she’s already forgetting why she was angry.
But then she slaps my hand away, hard enough to sting.
“You can have that after you tell me WHERE THE FUCK YOU WERE, CALEB!”
And there it is, the whiplash I’m starting to recognize as her signature move. One second she’s melting under my touch, the next she’s screaming at me. The oscillation between horny and furious happens so fast it’s almost comical.
I cup her face with just one hand this time, thumb brushing across her damp cheek. She feels solid. Real. The warmth of her skin, the slight tremor in her jaw… I really don’t think I’m making her up.
“I was with my sister.”
Her eyes immediately roll so hard I’m surprised they don’t fall out of her head. “I don’t even know why you talk to Rachel.” The words come out sharp, dismissive. “She treats you like shit.”
I can’t help it, a smile cracks across my face. I try not to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Why does Alyssa somehow know exactly how my sister treats me.
“She thought I killed myself yesterday,” I say, still fighting back that inappropriate urge to chuckle. “So she wanted to check in.”
Alyssa’s face goes through this weird transformation. The anger melts away, replaced by something that looks almost like... understanding? Her expression gets awkward, uncomfortable, like she knows exactly what Rachel was worried about and why.
Like she gets it perfectly.
“What an idiot. You obviously would never kill yourself.” she says, but her eyes are clearly pleading with me not to prove Rachel right.
She steps closer, her voice getting softer. “Because you love your adoring wife so much. The thought of leaving her like that would break your heart, wouldn’t it?”
I sink down onto the couch. She follows immediately, curling up next to me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Alyssa,” I say, turning to look at her. “Do you think I’ve ever killed anyone?”
“Not a chance.”
The certainty in her voice hits me harder than Rachel’s accusations ever could. Here’s this woman who broke into my apartment, who clearly knows more about me than she should, who’s completely unhinged in every measurable way. And she looks at me like the idea of me hurting someone is absurd.
“How can you be so sure?”
Her fingers slide into my hair, nails gently scratching against my scalp. The sensation sends this weird calm through my body, like she’s massaging the tension right out of my skull.
“Oh Caleb, honey,” she says, her voice taking on that maternal tone again. “I know you so well. I know what you’re capable of.” Her fingers work in slow circles, and I find myself leaning into the touch without thinking. “You are no killer.”
I open my mouth to dive deeper.
Her eyes go wide as she stares at me with sudden intensity. “Drop it.”
The words come out sharp and final, cutting through whatever I was about to say.
“If you make this conversation about someone else, there will be consequences.”
The threat hangs in the air between us, but her fingers never stop moving through my hair. The contrast is unsettling, this gentle touch paired with that dangerous edge in her voice. I can see something shifting behind her green eyes, that familiar oscillation between tender and unhinged.
I nod slowly.
I’m not afraid of her, not really. If anything, I’m curious about what those consequences might look like. But I also recognize the out she’s giving me. She’s offering to let me exist in this moment without Rachel’s accusations, without the weight of what everyone thinks I did. Without having to defend myself or explain or justify.
“Good,” she whispers, her voice softening as her fingers continue their work. “That’s my good husband.”
The massage feels too good to interrupt, but I need to know.
“Where were you this morning?”
Her fingers pause for just a second before resuming their gentle circles.
“Work emergency.”
I turn slightly to look at her face. “Where do you work?”
Another awkward expression crosses her features again. I watch her eyes dart away from mine, then back, like she’s searching for the right answer in the space between us.
She thinks for a second, her fingers still moving through my hair but with less certainty now.
Then something shifts in her face. The uncertainty vanishes, replaced by that familiar flash of indignation.
“The audacity!” Her voice rises with manufactured outrage. “My own husband doesn’t even know where his wife works!”
She pulls her hands away from my hair and crosses her arms, glaring at me like I’ve just committed some unforgivable marital sin. The performance is so over-the-top it’s almost funny.
“How could you forget something so important about me, Caleb?”
I stare at her for a moment, watching the way she’s trying to deflect with righteous anger. The performance is cute.
“Were you with someone else this morning?”
Her eyes go wide with panic, that manufactured indignation cracking like thin ice.
“God no, Caleb!” The words tumble out desperate. “I work at Raytheon, they were having trouble with...”
She stops mid-sentence, her mouth hanging open like she just realized what she almost said.
“You work at a weapons manufacturer.”
Her shoulders slump slightly, and she nods, looking almost embarrassed. “Yes.”
“That’s so cool.”
The change in her face is immediate. A smile spreads across her features as she realizes I’m not about to lecture her about the military-industrial complex or whatever moral stance she was expecting.
“Yeah, well, your wife is pretty cool!” Her voice takes on this arrogant edge, like my acceptance just gave her permission to brag. “I’m a senior systems engineer. I helped make the targeting system on a lot of the missiles being deployed in the Middle East right now!”
“Oh boy...” I pause, watching her preening expression. “Not the one that accidentally killed all those school children, right?”
The panic returns instantly, wiping away her smugness like someone just threw cold water on her face.
“Uhhhh...” She fumbles for words, her eyes darting around like she’s looking for an escape route. “Well, first of all, that wasn’t... my team didn’t fuck that up. The targeting system used that day was flawless...”
“Oh… Oh God…”
I let the implication of what she means sink in. Someone had to choose that target. The system worked exactly as designed.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Well... uhh... is it a nice job?”
She shrugs, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “I like the creative problem-solving aspect a lot.”
“Look, in this economy, I would never judge how someone like us gets their bag.”
She reaches up and lightly brushes my face with her soft fingers. Her green eyes turn hungry, staring at me like she wants to devour me whole.
“I know, Caleb.”