Page 46 of Fire and Rain
The breath left her lungs, and her throat went tight, tears filling her eyes. She closed her hand around the precious bit of glass and looked out to sea. Maybe she was crazy, but it felt like a message. For a bit of red sea glass to wash over her boot while she was speaking to Justin, and one shaped like a heart at that—it couldn’t be a coincidence.
Justin loved you, and I think he would want you to be happy.
Her grandmother’s words came back to her, happiness, grief, and hope tangling inside Eden’s chest. How could she feel so many emotions at one time?
Nearby, Maverick poked at the float from a long piece of bull kelp. “See?”
She turned her attention back to the present, red sea glass gripped tightly in one hand. “I see. That’s bull kelp. That bulb helps it float.”
In the distance, she heard the whir of an approaching helicopter, the orange and white of a returning H-60 already visible.
Mavie looked up, pointed. “Copta.”
“Yes, that’s a helicopter just like your daddy used to fly in.” She took Maverick’s little hand. “It’s time to go home.”
The tide was turning.
* * *
The book helped distractSean for a time. He was quite caught up in Sierra and Beckett’s story. Then it turned steamy. Scorching hot. He found himself imagining Eden reading the sex scenes and getting turned on—until he’d remembered Justin telling him that he’d been the beneficiary of her reading habits.
Shit.
Wishing he had time to finish the story, he marked his place in the book, set it aside, and went to the cafeteria for dinner. Then it was time for the change-of-shift briefing. The weather had been calm, so it had been a quiet day—apart from a medevac for a fisherman who’d cast his line and caught himself in the eye with his hook.
Sean went back to his quarters to get ready for his duty shift but had barely pulled on his thermals when the SAR alarm went off.
In the hallway, he ran into Trey, who was also on duty, and the two of them walked together toward the lockers.
“Hey, Flo, you left your clothes in the dryer.”
“Shit!”
“Not to worry. I grabbed your stuff and put it all in your duffel bag. It’s on the table.”
“Thanks.” Sean would get it when he got back from this case.
Trey dropped the teasing and lowered his voice. “Have you talked to Spurrier lately? He seems… I don’t know… Stressed or distracted.”
“He’s probably just tired. He flew a lot of SAR missions this past week.”
Hell, they all had.
“Do you think the accident could be affecting him?”
Sean remembered what James had told him about the adrenaline rush he’d gotten flying his first mission after the crash. “We’ve both flown with him since, and I haven’t noticed any difference in his performance.”
“I haven’t either. It’s more when we’re back on deck. He keeps to himself and seems grumpier than usual. He’s just … not himself.”
“Piloting a helicopter that crashed into the ocean at the cost of two crewmen’s lives would change anyone.”
“You seem okay.”
“I live with the memory of what happened every day, man.”
They reached the lockers to find James and Zeke dressing out and discussing the new SAR case.
James brought them up to speed. “We’ve got an injured surfer stranded on an unnamed spit of rock about a mile offshore from Fossil Beach. A fixed-wing pilot spotted him clinging to some kind of navigation marker and called it in to Sector. High tide will cover those rocks and wash him out to sea. We’ll have a forty-knot headwind, and there’s rain expected in the next hour. We’ve got an hour and ten minutes before the tide is in, but he’ll be submerged long before then. Let’s move.”
