The Navy Seal's Rescue

“Texted.”

“They’re learning. They want to be experts by the time the kids are old enough to have their own phones. Or at least can spell.”

“Josh can spell.”

Her anxious expression needed no translation.

“Hey, he writes his name like a champ.”

“You don’t have to go tonight,” she said softly. “Unless you’ve said something to the contrary, I’ve already told them you have to work.”

“Do you want me to go?”

Her shoulders drooped. “I don’t want to go. But the kids do. They like that there’ll be cake and ice cream. In fact, I’m on my way to drop them off. They get to help with the frosting and decorations.”

“And what about you?”

“I’m going to spend some quality time by myself, doing nothing. I haven’t had that in a while. I’ll join them later.” She turned to stare out at the sea. “It always starts out as a party but then...well, you know. It’s more like an annual tribute now. I mean, not that I begrudge them. But every holiday it’s the same.”

“I know. It’s hard.”

“The family is wonderful, and I love them all so much. But it’s almost three years now, and I worry that at Peter’s and Yvette’s ages, hanging on to the grief will hurt them.”

“Those kids of yours help keep them going. And you’re like one of their own.”

She looked at him again, her blue eyes welling. “So are you.”

His breath caught. “They’ve known me a long time.”

“Anyway, go for your run. The car’s going to get too hot to leave the kids in it. And yes, smart-ass, all the windows are open, and they’re drinking their juice boxes.”

He took the next three steps to get close to her. “I never doubted it for a moment.”

His hand went to her arm. “Look, I’ll go tonight.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“I promise it won’t kill me.”

Becky shook her head. “I think it’s good to start weaning everyone. Next holiday we’ll just do a pop in, or something.”

“Are you sure? Because I can—”

“I’m sure.” She nodded, turned and hurried down ahead of him.

Watching her, the way she straightened when she got near her SUV, hearing Josh say, “Mom, guess what?” made Wyatt ache. He’d never get the hang of the different holidays. But Adam’s birthday was the worst. It always felt as if Wyatt were intruding if he went, that he was just a terrible reminder of what everyone had lost.

Maybe even worse, was that he’d never wanted Adam’s grandparents to think he was trying to be a substitute. Even if he wanted to be, he’d be lousy at it. Adam had been a great husband and father. Wyatt had been told several times that he was a nice guy, but a lousy boyfriend. And as a husband? A dad?

Hell, now he wasn’t even the good son.

That got him moving, racing down the stairs straight past the already-open bar to the sand. It really was late. He’d have to dodge people. Not that he minded. He needed his mind to be on his gait, his time. No one but him gave a shit, but he liked to beat his best time once a week. He’d already done that two days ago, but who cared.

In this heat, it would be difficult. He wanted difficult.

Even with hustling, his thoughts couldn’t stay just on his pace despite the rhythm he worked to establish. He kept thinking about Peter and Yvette, and how they would decorate the house with a banner they kept, and how Adam’s pictures would be all over the mantel and the walls, and in the kitchen, and in the hallway. Interspersed with photos of the grandkids and wedding photos. But Adam’s portrait was the only one with a black ribbon around it.

How they loved his friend. The two of them used to gorge on Yvette’s packages of cookies and candy whenever they knew where the unit was going to be. She’d always sent double, knowing Wyatt would steal half, and borrow the extra socks.

His mom had sent stuff, too, but she’d never been extravagant. Not with food or supplies, or letters for that matter. Too busy being an officer’s wife. With the Marshes, including Adam, family always came first. In Wyatt’s family, it was duty.

“Hey, what are you doing here so late?”

Wyatt recognized the voice before he spotted Delia, who was standing at her stall at the fish market. How was she already almost sold out? He checked his watch. Damn late. And nope, hadn’t broken any records. Down by six seconds. It didn’t matter.

“How are you, Delia?” he asked, slowing to a crawl, wishing he’d brought his water bottle. He rarely forgot it.

“You’re sweating like a pig. You want some water?”

“Yeah, thanks. That’d be great.”

The stands were cooled very pleasantly with misters and fans, and the ice that was constantly replenished under the morning’s catch. He could see from the scarcity that the local chefs had been by, not just for the restaurants, but for the hotels and B&Bs, and then there were the locals, who knew when to show up. He’d often gone home with a fish so fresh it’d barely stopped wiggling. One of the great joys of living near a fishing village.

“So this reunion, huh?” Delia said. “Damn prep school a-holes.”

“They’re not all a-holes.”

“No. That’s ’cause some of them come from the south.”

She meant the fish side of town, he knew. That rivalry wasn’t going to be over anytime soon.

Delia had to be over sixty-five, but she was out here every day until most of the catch was sold. During tourist season, that was pretty early. Today, she’d be wrapping things up soon. He thought about buying some fish but he wasn’t finished running, and it was too hot to lug a striped bass home. “But they pay a pretty penny for seafood.”

“Damn straight they do. I see ’em coming, I put out the other prices.”

He’d known that for a long time. It had been almost a year before she gave him the local rate. “That’s wicked smart, Delia,” he said, using his best Rhody accent. “Say hi to Fred, would ya?”

“Your accent’s still crap, you know.”

“I’ll keep trying.” Instead of running back to the bar, he was going to go to the hotel, find out what the schedule was for the reunion crowd. He knew there was a big dinner tonight, but he might let a few of the bell staff know he’d have a special going on.

His trip had nothing to do with hoping to see Cricket. Nothing at all.

* * *

CRICKET FOUND THE gang in the perpetually crowded bar off the lobby.

“I ordered a pitcher of sweet tea,” Jade said, just as Cricket sat down between Harlow and Ginny.

Harlow grabbed the small menu displayed in the middle of the table. “Guess who’s here?” she said, glancing at Jade. “Fletcher Preston.”

“So. What do I care?”

Cricket and Harlow laughed. Ginny only smiled. She looked tired. Cricket wished she had more time here. To go see her, to meet Tilda. But she was leaving Monday morning, and God, she didn’t want to think about that. Not when her nights had been crowded with worry.

Jade checked for the waitress, then pushed back her flowing copper hair, the hair she’d hated in school because the boys made fun of her. She wore tamer makeup now, and curled her hair, and wore nail polish that wasn’t black. Getting away from Temptation Bay had done wonders for her, although she was still Jade. Ready to stand up to anyone.

“You were hot for him all of junior year.” Harlow sat up taller, smiling as the pitcher arrived at the table.

“At least you’re not denying it,” Ginny said once they were alone again, and Jade was pouring. “Did he ever ask you out?”

“No.” Jade grunted while taking her first sip. “Men are dopes.”

Cricket smiled.

Ginny and Harlow grinned. “Not all men.”

“Most men.”

“So, you’re not seeing anyone, I take it?” Cricket said.

“Nope.”

“What do you do about sex?” Harlow asked, not in the least abashed by her question.

“That’s what one-night stands are for,” Jade said. “No fuss, no muss and no disappointments. Except when they’re...” She held up her hand, index and thumb two inches apart.

“I’ve missed you, Jade Kelly,” Ginny said, laughing. “A lot.”

Jade gave her a look. “What about you? Living here and all. You getting any?”

“With Tilda around? God, no. I don’t even remember getting any. I think I’m actually a virgin again. Technically.”

“Oh, honey.” Harlow covered Ginny’s hand with her own. “That’s what reunions are for. You have a babysitter, right? Tonight’s your night. We’ll all help you find someone decent.”

“Someone from school? No, thanks.”

“A stranger, then. Honest. There are lots of guys here, and if it’s someone on vacation or here just for the golf tournament, you never have to see them again. It’s perfect.”

Ginny blushed, but grinned. “I did shave all the important parts.”

“That’s the spirit.” Harlow drank some more, looking around at the packed tables. “I wouldn’t mind a dip in the water myself. Although, I don’t know. There’s someone in LA that I’ve been kind of seeing. No one special, though. Another teacher. Science and math. You’d like him, Jade.”

“Just because I’m a chemist doesn’t mean I instantly bond with all other science nerds. Especially the men, superior jerks. When I open my store, I’m only hiring young women who are interested in STEM, and I’m going to mentor my ass off.”

“Wait?” Cricket put down her drink. “Opening your what?”

Jade grinned wide. “I’m going to open a perfumery. Nothing huge, but I’ll be making personalized scents. Tailoring them to people’s chemistry. I’ve already set up a website, even though I can’t start yet, not until I’m out of contract, which won’t be for another five months. And I have a partner. She’s a professor from Berkeley and she’s financing the whole thing, because God knows I’m still in debt up to my eyeballs, but she thinks we can really do a lot with this. Kind of like what they’re doing now with DNA. Getting saliva samples from people via the mail, then I do my magic, and give them a scent that’s unique to their body chemistry. I’m wearing one of mine right now.”

“You smell delicious,” Harlow said, leaning in for another sniff. “I noticed when we hugged.”

“I know,” Cricket added. “I noticed, too. But it’s not the same as last night, and I told you how amazing that was. Are they both yours?”

Jade nodded.

“I’ll spit on whatever you want,” Harlow said. “Please.”

“Good. I’ll send you all kits. You can be guinea pigs for my questionnaires.”

Cricket held up her almost empty glass. “To new adventures and tremendous success. Jade, you’ll kill it. You’ll absolutely kill it.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Jade said, clicking her glass with the others, “because I’m totally going to ask you for help drawing up the legal stuff.”

“Of course.”

“You’ll be paid, don’t worry about that.”

“I’d do it anyway. You know that.”

They drank, and then Jade leaned in, her eyes shining with mischief. “Did you guys see Winnie this morning? What the hell has she done with her hair?”

“Oh, yeah.” Harlow shuddered. “She looks like Billy Idol. I mean, with her coloring, those platinum spikes? Honestly, what in the world?”

“God, she was such a bitch,” Jade said. “Thought she was all that, so I made a point of looking at her current bio. She’s divorced, two kids, ex-husband’s in insurance. She lives in Nebraska. Remember how she was going to take New York by storm?”

“She used to call me a grotesque giraffe,” Harlow said. “When she couldn’t even make the cheerleading squad.”

“Better than telling me every single day that I stunk like fish,” Jade said. “I mean, every day? Waving her hand in front of her face when I’d walk by. God, I hate her.”

“Now this is like old times,” Ginny said. “Remember Tommy Zico? That pervert? Is he here? I didn’t see his name...”

“I bet he’s in jail.” Harlow shook her head. “At least he should be.”

“Well, how about that?” Ginny said. “Cricket. Check out who’s at the activity board.”

Jade followed Harlow’s gaze and said, “I’ll take him to go, please.”

Cricket turned around. It was Wyatt. Looking even scruffier than he had last night. Wearing a sweat-stained T-shirt over running shorts, his stubble darker, his hair a mess, and she felt her insides melt.

“Wait a minute,” Jade said. “Cricket? He’s so not your type.”

“You don’t even know what my type is.”

“Uh, corporate. Silk neckties. Penthouse apartment. Drives a Porsche.”

“Stop it.” Cricket flushed, although not about Jade’s comment, even though she’d almost described Grant to a T. “I’m versatile.”

“You sure?” Harlow said. “Maybe we could Rochambeau for him? I’ll be paper, you can be rock.”

Cricket polished off her drink and dropped her napkin on the table. “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

“Why, you hogging him all for yourself?”

“Very possibly.” She tugged her dress down, then headed over to him.

* * *

WYATT THOUGHT ABOUT what kind of special he could offer, but gave up the idea when he saw there would be dancing after the dinner. That gave him only an hour window before the law made him lock up. Besides, it was a dumb idea. These people didn’t care about specials.

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