Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“What makes you think that?”
“You’re always thinking, Clee. Only time that pretty head shuts off is when I keep you preoccupied.”
I laugh and kiss his shoulder.
It’s so easy, this affection, like we’ve been doing it half our lives. Being with him feels so natural, I can hardly remember a time when I hated him. How is it possible?
“No, that’s you,” I tease back. “You’re the one with the dominant broody gene.”
He scowls, but I see the corner of his lips turn up.
He loves to pretend he’s the grumpiest bear alive, but I know better. After this closeness, I see right through him, and even that big chest seems paper thin.
No more tinman. There’s a beating heart in there after all, strong and kind and real.
“You really want to know?” I duck my head as he nods. “I was just thinking how much I like this,” I admit. “Having to be quiet, figuring things out so Kit doesn’t notice.”
His hand curls around my elbow, idly stroking my skin.
“You like that?” His voice drops lower.
“You don’t?”
“Never said that.”
I lean in and kiss his neck, inhaling that subtle woodsy scent he wears like a second shadow. It’s so male it makes my stomach twitch with butterflies.
“There are a lot of things about this I like,” I mutter. “Too many to count, probably.”
“Show me.” His hand catches my hip. His eyes lock with mine as he guides me on top, straddling him.
We go slowly at first, like we’re the only two people in the world who matter, and it feels divine.
Our own little magic place.
But even when we blow apart and settle again in each other’s arms, the Hera Egg looms in the back of my mind like a spider you glimpse once but can’t find again.
It’s tucked away in a reinforced safe buried in Holden’s closet, the safest place in the house. But I can’t help thinking about the men who broke in and exiled us from Gramps’ house.
Did they just give up that easily?
Can everything simply be this good after something so awful?
I don’t believe in lucky streaks. Blame it on how I grew up.
Nothing good in life ever comes free.
My cousin Ethan went back to check on the house with Holden last week. There’s no sign of any new disturbances. They beefed up the system with police patrols and an additional security guy on-site making the rounds. They know Holden keeps a watch over the cameras as well, just in case, and it’s been over a week with nothing else.
So maybe it is over.
Or maybe we just can’t see the next storm coming over the mountains.
Even so, the next day at the beach, I can’t help bringing it up.
“Have you heard anything from the police yet?” I ask as Kit bounds along the rocky shore, looking for seashells.
Beside me, stretched out on a blanket, Holden tenses. Just slightly, but I’ve spent the past week learning his tells.
He’s worried.
He keeps so much bottled up, like his emotions will destroy us if he lets them out, which means I only have the little things to watch for.
His unnatural stillness. That twitch at the corner of his mouth. The way his jaw tightens for a single heartbeat.
“No,” he says after a second. “Nothing. The incident wasn’t serious enough to bring in a forensics team to analyze the blood splatter.”
“What? Why the hell not?”
“No one got hurt, Clee, minus my fall. Nothing was stolen. Yes, the break-in was a crime, but they only have my word that the perps were even armed.” He shrugs. “The FBI has more serious crimes to focus on.”
“Huh.” I let the sand sift through my fingers, warmed by the sun. We’re moving into that time of year where summer feels like it’s a breath away, pleasantly warm without being too hot.
I tip my head back, closing my eyes.
“I hope you put sunscreen on,” Holden tells me.
“Don’t worry, Grandma. I have.”
He prods me in the side, and I smile.
“I’m pulling on every loose thread. Don’t worry,” he says after another second, like he thinks I need the reassurance. “I made a cast of the boot print and I’m working on finding a match. Even the manufacturer or point of origin could be a clue. If it leads back to Fairfax—”
“Hey, no. It’s fine. No way do I think he’d put anyone up to this.” I nudge my shoulder against his arm, studying his dark-brown eyes. “Holden, I mean it. He’s a professional. I don’t need you getting all snarly and paranoid.”
“I’ll live, Clee,” he says.
“I’m not worried you’re going to hurt yourself,” I say. “It’s just…”
“What?”
“Things are good right now.” I mean it. Sitting here together while Kit washes her new clamshells in the ocean, the sun too bright and the air pleasantly briny, that’s an understatement. “I don’t want anything getting in the way. A selfish part of me doesn’t want this to end yet. That’s all.”