Hans (Alliance #4)

“I’m a health inspector.” The lie is one I’ve had ready for years.

I don’t have to use it often since I don’t interact much with people outside my real profession, but I know more than enough about the inspector world to answer any question Mrs. Cantrell, or anyone else, might ask.

“Bet you go to some interesting places,” Mr. Cantrell says around a bite of bacon. “Explains the clothes.”

“Dad, there’s nothing wrong with his clothes,” Cassandra argues.

I feel a spark of warmth at Cassandra defending me.

Mr. Cantrell shoves the last bite into his mouth, holding his hands up. “I didn’t say there was. But a getup like that usually means military or construction. Health inspector isn’t exactly construction, but being in kitchens and basements and wherever else, you probably need durable clothes that clean easily.”

I lift a brow. He was paying closer attention than I figured. “You military?”

“Army communications. Served right out of high school, retired around your age so the wife and I could move back here and start a family.” His expression is nothing but soft as he looks at his daughter.

I’m not intimidated by a man in his seventies who used to serve in the army, but I am aware that I shouldn’t underestimate his observational abilities.

“Our little miracle baby.” Mrs. Cantrell smiles at Cassandra.

“Yeah, yeah.” My neighbor shakes her head. She reaches for the metal spatula and gestures toward my plate. “Would you like another slice?”

I look down and see I’ve finished every bite.

I believe Cassandra learned her love for food from her mom. But, and I’ll take this to my grave, her mother’s food is delicious rather than barely edible, so I nod.

A large slice of egg bake is set on my plate, and I waste no time digging in.

“How about your family?” Mrs. Cantrell asks. “Do your folks live around here?”

A twist of pain catches me off guard before I answer truthfully. “They passed away. A long time ago.”

Cassandra’s indrawn breath does something to settle that bit of pain.

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Mrs. Cantrell’s voice is full of compassion.

I dip my chin, wanting to look at Cassandra but not quite daring to. I know she has big feelings. And her one inhale is enough to tell me that she’s going to have a look on her face that will make me want to drag her into a hug. Right here. At the table with her parents.

So long as they don’t ask me?—

“Any siblings?” Mrs. Cantrell asks the only question I don’t want to answer.

It would be so easy to lie.

I should lie.

“I had a sister. We lost her a long time ago too.” I set my fork down, needing a moment of stillness.

Cassandra tries to muffle a whimper at my side.

Mrs. Cantrell hovers her fingertips over her mouth. “Were they all in an accident?”

I almost smile. How different my life would be if it had been as simple as that.

“Mom,” Cassandra hisses.

“No accident.” I’m in it now. And a part of me feels like I owe it to my family to be honest right now. “My parents died of pneumonia.”

“Oh Lord,” Mrs. Cantrell lowers her hand to press over her heart. “At the same time?”