The Navy Seal's Rescue. Jo Leigh

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      “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 СКАЧАТЬ