Page 140 of This Bitter Sweet Temptation
So maybe itisover.
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.”
His hand brushes mine.
I almost jump at the contact. When we’re out and about, we’re careful to avoid touching in case Kit notices.
“Finding the egg a better home, you mean?”
“Well, yeah.” I lean back, staring up at him. “And us.”
A line forms between his brows. “What do you mean?”
“Every time you ask what I’m thinking, I can practically hearyouthinking. And I don’t want you to feel like you need to…” I chew my lip, trying to figure out how to say this nicely in a way that will let him feel safe and secure.
Holden doesn’t do things lightly.
Not even this weird, unexpected thing we’ve started by accident, but I don’t want him getting too caught up in putting a label on us. Making it official or deciding it was always a mistake after all.
