“How bad was it?” Mac asked.
“Bad enough I debated an ambulance.”
“Shit,” Mac sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried, but she ripped the phone out of my hand and threatened body parts I prefer to keep in place.”
Mac chuckled. “She’d be able to do it, too.”
I smirked at the truth. Dani was strong enough to back up any threat she made.
“Keeping her safe does not mean putting her in your bed,” Mac said, turning serious.
It was a good thing he didn’t know I’d already done so, and since joining her here, I’d seen every inch of her, kissed her, and still ached for her. But I also knew there were too many obstacles in my life to let her become a permanent fixture. My lack of response had Mac growling into the phone.
Before he could say anything, I cut him off. “If you really think Dani would succumb to my dumbass charm, you know her even less than I do.”
I said nothing about me succumbing to her charm.
Mac grunted. “You’re right. She’s too smart for that.” Another pause. “Keep her safe for me, Nash.”
“I will.”
It was a promise I intended to keep, even when I’d barely been able to do it since arriving in Florida. Guilt weighed on my shoulders. But the fact was, when things went wrong on an operation, it was almost always due to bad intel. The problem was, I still didn’t have all the information I needed. Mac and I said goodbye as my brain continued to pick at everything that had happened in the last three days.
I went into the kitchen, knowing Maribelle would be there just as I’d known Carson would be in the library. Growing up, the kitchen had always been her domain. When I found her, she was making chicken and dumplings, an old favorite of mine.
I watched her steady hands as they moved. The veins were raised on the wrinkled skin, and it felt wrong to see her working so hard. She should have people taking care of her like she’d taken care of us for decades.
“You should have someone helping you,” I barked out.
She smiled. “Carson’s offered. But what would I do? Sit around knitting and watching TV? That’s the quickest way to get old. I like keeping busy. All the hardest work has been passed off to people with more energy and strength than me.”
I was surprised Carson even noticed she needed help.
“We’ve missed you,” she said.
The fact that I’d missed her, too, hit me in the chest. The handful of texts I sent her sporadically was much less than she deserved after taking care of me my whole life. Feeding me, soothing my cuts, and holding me while I cried. My only defense was that seeing her meant seeing him, and I’d run out of patience for him years ago.
“Why’s Carson handing things off?” I asked. He was only in his sixties. Hardly old.
Maribelle sighed. “I think he’s ready to be more than the man who runs Wellsley Place.”
I wanted to snort. Carson and Wellsley Place were synonymous.
Maribelle had never once made me feel guilty for staying away, for not wanting to step into his shoes. But she’d also never taken my side in any of the arguments Carson and I had. While neither of us had ever asked her to pick a side, I’d once asked her why she didn’t. She’d replied, “Sometimes we choose the straightforward path, and it isn’t ‘til we’re on it that we see how astray it led us. Sometimes, choosing the path strewn with rocks and canyons is the only way to ensure we can never be lost again.” At the time, I’d bit back, sarcastically, that she’d really cleared things up for me, and she’d laughed, patted me on my shoulder, and said someday I’d figure it out.
Ever since then, I’d thought I’d been on the road with the rocks and canyons, ensuring I wouldn’t be lost, but lately, it almost felt like I’d been on the straight one. As if somehow my direction had diverged from my original intent. If my naval career ended, I’d certainly be dog-paddling in the ocean, trying to find land.
I heard Dani before she even entered the kitchen, the ancient stairs creaking on the third step followed by her sandals flapping on the wooden floors. She emerged through the arch, and I was hit all over again with how beautiful she looked in her white sundress.
Her stomach let out a loud rumble, and both Maribelle and I chuckled.
She smiled wryly.
“Whatever you’re cooking smells heavenly, and I think my stomach just might allow me to put something in it.” She stood by the island, watching as Maribelle finished off the meal.
The grandfather clock chimed, and shortly after, Carson appeared in the kitchen. When I’d arrived at military school, I’d never had difficulty adjusting to the rigid routines like some of the other boys, because there’d always been a routine at Wellsley Place. Dinner at six o’clock sharp was one of the many.
To my surprise, Carson sat down at the small table in the kitchen alcove. Growing up, we’d always eaten at the formal table in the dining room, even when it was just the three of us curled around one end of it. Maribelle dished him up a bowl, bringing it to him. I scooped up a bowl for Dani, our hands touching and sparking as I passed it to her.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, heading for the small table and scooting around the window seat. I joined her, leaving the other chair for Maribelle who poured sweet tea for everyone without asking.
“I’m Carson,” my uncle said, sticking out his hand.
She shook it. “Dani.”
“Dani?” My uncle had no care for nicknames and shortcuts. He’d objected to my name from the moment I’d entered the world, according to Maribelle.
“Daniella, but no one calls me that at
