“And the shooting? And the accident?”
“Oh, those are very real. Sometimes stories get away from you. That’s why I agreed to all the bodyguards.” He stared at the burning tip of his cigarette. “I’d just put one of these between my lips when the shot rang out. Now I think about that every time I light up.”
“As well you should.”
He looked at me. “I know you think I’m being flippant about that, and the accident. Or maybe you think I’m crazy too. Or lying. But there’s nothing like almost dying to remind you of how alive you are.” He examined the cigarette again. “Probably why I smoke. Courting death with every inhale. I’ll tell Addison that. She’ll like the metaphor.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “It’s a good one.”
“Yeah.” He examined me through the smoke. “You believe me, don’t you, about the important things? The accident, the shooting?” His face was somber. “Jessica.”
“I do.”
“Because Trey said so?”
“Yes. But I think I would have anyway.”
He nodded solemnly. “They say it was that burglar. Now that you’ve seen the evidence, what do you say?”
I thought of Keesha driving south in the night, headed for the panhandle of Florida, just beyond the Georgia line. She wouldn’t stop except to get gas. She’d drive straight through.
“I say you might be getting some closure there real soon.”
“Really? That will be…I don’t know what that will be. It wasn’t as if Jessica and I were happy. And then I met Addison.” He examined me seriously. “You ever been saved, Tai? I mean literally.”
The memories came flooding in all at once. Gabriella at Trey’s door with a pot of soup, Garrity in a blizzard with a helicopter. Rico telling me not to go with Jeremy Fuller the night he crashed his truck right into the Altamaha River and they didn’t find it, or him, for weeks. My father—yes, he would always be my father no matter what that envelope revealed—pulling me to the surface after the riptide got me. And Trey holding me against his chest in the dark while sirens wailed in the distance.
“Yes,” I said. “I’ve been saved. Many times.”
Nick nodded. “Then you know what it is to owe your life to another person.”
I could see that his eyes were bright, even in the dark. He believed what he’d just said. I thought hard about my next words, thought about myself, and Trey, all of us.
“I know this much. Nobody ever really saves you. They show up for you. They offer their hand. But in the end, you have to make the choice to take it. In the end, you always save yourself.” I shrugged. “Or not.”
He looked at me strangely. “Yeah. I guess.” Then he sighed, a deep exhale that released a lot of pent-up energy. “Thanks for talking. I gotta get back to my wife now.” He handed me the still-burning cigarette. “Ditch this for me? I don’t want to spend my wedding night in the doghouse.”
Chapter Forty-three
Once I got back to my cabin, I slipped my .38 into the bedside table drawer, still holstered. This was the out-of-town procedure—safe from accidental discharge but otherwise accessible. I undressed in the dark, the moon illuminating the space like a lamp. I stretched out the knots in my shoulders, leaving my clothes in a heap in the middle of the floor, then pulled on one of Trey’s old tees. I’d barely gotten my head through the neck hole when my phone started screeching, the screen flaring red, strobing in time to the blaring security alarms.
I snatched it up. According to the interface, every single alarm had triggered simultaneously. Front and back door breaches, window breaches, maybe even a breach from above. That couldn’t happen unless there was an army outside. I listened. No army. I reached into the drawer just as the alarm stopped.
I held my breath, phone in one hand, the other wrapped around the revolver, unholstered now but still in the drawer. All quiet. I knew that shouldn’t have happened either. The alarm required a code to go all clear, and only two people had the code—Trey and me—and I had my finger poised on his speed dial when he called me first.
I spoke quickly. “Trey! There’s something—”
“False alarm. My apologies.”
“What?”
“Come onto the patio and I’ll explain.”
I let go of the gun and unlocked the back doors. A night breeze riffled the hem of the tee shirt and pulled my hair into my face. After a few seconds, I spotted Trey standing at the edge of the woods. He looked left and right, then came closer.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said, his voice low. “I was making a final perimeter check, and I accidentally triggered…everything.”
I folded my arms. “Making a final check on me, you mean.”
He didn’t argue. He’d given up on the suit jacket, which he had folded over his arm. His white shirt was the only thing that kept him from blending into the darkness.
“You could have used the front door,” I said. “You know. Knocked.”
“I was trying to be discreet.”
“You were trying to be sneaky.”
His voice rose. “I was trying…” He exhaled in frustration, pitched his voice lower. “I was trying to text you to tell you to switch off the system and let me in. But I had the access screen pulled up at the same time, and I triggered the live test simulation by mistake.”
“I could have had the gun out. I could have shot you.”
“You’d already put your gun away.”
I flung a hand in the air. “So? I could have had it aimed your way in less than three seconds.”
“Yes, but you’re trained to aim only at an identifiable target with clear background, neither of which you had.”
I was still annoyed. So was Trey. And he was something else too, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
“Let me get this straight,” I said. “You show up outside my room at midnight—”
“Eleven-fifty.”
“After coming over the river and through the woods—”
“Around the woods.”
“—alone in the dark,
