“He heard your dad died,” said Angelina turning her face away from Mason to give Shee a hard stare.
Dad’s dead to the world. Right.
“Thanks. Yeah, it was, uh, sudden.”
Shee watched Mason nod.
If I held a block of cheese beneath that jawline, he’d slice it into neat squares.
Mason seemed lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to her gawking. “He was the inspiration for everything that’s mattered in my life.”
He looked at her with the same sort of portent Angelina had shared.
Is he talking about me being something that matters?
Croix watched their silent exchange.
“Awwww...” The girl’s voice lilted upward as if she’d found a lost kitten behind the desk. Plunking her elbow on the counter, she rested her chin on her fist and blinked, wide-eyed. She looked back and forth between Shee and Mason until Shee could bear it no longer.
“Let’s go somewhere,” she said motioning for him to follow her.
Dodging a bemused-looking Angelina, she walked down the short hallway to the back door, strode onto the porch, jogged down the stairs and didn’t stop until she reached the end of the pier. She considered taking a few more steps into the Intracoastal Waterway and splashing around until an alligator found her. Maybe an affectionate manatee could wrap its flippers around her and accidentally drag her to the depths.
She heard the nubs of Mason’s loafers on the composite decking behind her.
Uneven.
A limp?
She turned and watched him approach.
“You’re limping,” she said.
He smiled using only the right side of his face, one dimple dropping like a tiny, adorable sinkhole.
That’s a wistful smile. Regret?
“Limps happen when you forget to bring your other leg,” he said, jerking up his pant. His metal right ankle glinted in the sun.
She gasped. “When? How?”
“About two months ago. Mission.”
“You were still out there? You’re nearly fifty.”
He chuckled. “Well, I’m retired now. Just one mission too late.”
“What are you now? A Captain?”
“Commander.”
“Hm. Congratulations,” she said, but her mind wandered elsewhere, flickering images of Mason jogging with her on the beach at eighteen, his tan legs pumping, his feet hitting the sand.
He tapped his leg. “I wish the rest of me was built out of titanium. I’d hurt less in the mornings.”
“I know what you mean. Aging sucks, doesn’t it?”
They both fell silent, frozen smiles on their faces.
Nah. This isn’t awkward at all.
“You disappeared,” he said, after the longest twenty seconds of her life.
Her gaze dropped to the dock. “I had to.”
“For twenty-seven years?”
Shee toed a hunk of broken shell off the edge and into the water.
Seventeen, officially.
Before that, she’d only been hiding from him.
“No, I, uh...”
“I looked for you.”
“I know.”
She hadn’t meant to admit she’d known. She’d heard he was looking for her, and hid all the deeper. That was before she had to drop off the grid entirely, before everything changed.
“That’s all you have to say?” he asked.
He sounded angry. It was like reliving the day they parted all over again. In her mind’s eye she saw her room again.
The ugly lamp. The wooden jewelry box. The pile of clothes with the damp blue bikini on top...
No allergy medicine in sight this time to calm her nerves. Just three decades of raw disappointment and loss.
She looked up at him, realizing she hadn’t answered.
“I’m sorry, what?”
He wore his exasperation like a heavy winter coat, the weight of it threatening to drag him to the ground. “I finally find you and your response is, ‘Hey, hope all’s well with you, say hi to the family, see you in another thirty years?”
She noted his southern accent had faded over the years—
Wait. Did he say family?
She sniffed. “You have a family?”
“What if I did? Would you care?”
Shee found herself muted by the question.
Yes.
The idea of him with a family hurt.
How selfish can I be?
He had the right to be happy. Right?
Let’s pretend I really feel that way.
“No. I mean, I’m glad you have a family—”
“I don’t.”
Her shoulders unbunched. “Ohthankgod.”
He laughed.
“You?” he asked, his tone and the wrinkle between his eyebrow telegraphing he didn’t want to hear she was happy without him, either. He looked like a man preparing to be slapped across the face.
“No,” she said.
The news made the corner of his mouth curl up another millimeter.
“Never?”
“No.” Without meaning to she glanced up at Mick’s window. She wanted to tell him Mick was still alive, but it had been a friend who lured her father to his own assassination attempt.
What if Mason is next in a long line of traitors?
It was a thought. Why would he show up now after all these years? Had someone sent him? Who’d know he’d be the perfect weapon to wield against her?
She rubbed at her nose, obscuring her expression to keep him from seeing her every thought. She felt transparent.
“I, uh, have some things I need to do. Are you staying here?” she said.
I need to keep him close until I figure him out.
He turned his palms to the sky. “I’d planned to, I mean, it is a hotel, but—”
She nodded. “Right, yes, stay. I’ll be back in a bit.”
He ran a hand through his short dark hair and turned enough for her to glimpse the gray peppering on the sides above his ears.
Sexy.
Not fair.
“We’ll have dinner or something,” she added.
He nodded. “Sure. I’ll check in.”
“Great. Great.” Shee opened her arms and took a step forward to embrace him. “It is good to see you. It really is.”
He squeezed her to him until she wondered if he’d ever let go.
Don’t. Don’t let go.
