“Dead is dead. Permanent,” he said. “But no bodies? No proof of death? It leaves a glimmer of hope that they’re still alive.”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “If they are...why haven’t they tried to contact me?”
“Maybe they can’t.”
“Do you think they could be held captive somewhere? That for the last six months they’ve been unable to get word out that they’re alive?” Holly had prayed every day since their boat had been found that one day they’d show up after having been rescued from a deserted island.
As time had passed, hope had turned to despair. If they’d died, she’d have mourned their loss and eventually gotten on with her life.
“You’re probably in a constant flux of grief or hope. It’s hard to focus on regular, day-to-day existence.”
“Yeah.” It had been hard to just move on. “Part of it is that I feel like I should’ve done more to stop those things from happening. I should’ve convinced Paul not to go to New Orleans that morning. I should’ve gone to folks as soon as I saw the message in the sand.”
“No amount of regret or second-guessing can change the past. Yet we wallow in it, sabotaging our chances at a future, at happiness.”
His words echoed exactly what she’d felt over the last six months. “Yet, we hold onto the guilt, afraid to let go.”
“That by letting go, you aren’t repenting for your failure to keep them alive, or you aren’t showing them the love and respect they deserve by keeping them foremost in your heart and mind.”
“Wow. That’s deep,” she said. “You speak as if from experience. From your own loss.”
His silence was answer enough.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said softly, “whoever he or she was.”
“He. Johnny,” Simon said. “We were battle buddies. We were supposed to have each other’s backs.”
“What happened?”
“I should’ve had his front that day. I should’ve taken point,” Simon’s voice faded. Silence stretched for a moment. “He had a wife and son. I didn’t have anyone depending on me to come home. I shouldn’t have let him take the lead. Had I gone first, Johnny would be home with his wife and son.”
“And he would’ve been wondering if he’d done enough to keep you from dying.” Holly sighed. “Hindsight is too late. Again, you can’t change the past.”
“Reliving it over and over won’t make it better,” Simon said. “It makes for a miserable present and future.”
“There’s nothing like late-night discussions on philosophy.” Holly yawned, surprised that her discussion over the rail with Simon, no matter how deep and sad, had eased the tension she hadn’t been able to shake since she’d seen the message on the mirror in her Atlanta apartment.
“We can’t change the world tonight,” Simon’s smooth, deep tone floated up to her perch in the loft. “We’ll work on it tomorrow.”
She crawled up on the bed, pulled the comforter up to her chin and closed her eyes, relieved she wasn’t alone. And though she’d always clung fiercely to her independence, she was glad it was Simon providing her protection.
* * *
It seemed no sooner had she closed her eyes than she woke to sunlight streaming through the windows. The rich aroma of fresh-brewed coffee filled her senses, urging her to get up and go in search of a cup and the man who was brewing it.
Holly finger-combed her hair, hoping she didn’t look as bedraggled as usual. If this arrangement lasted more than a day or two, she’d have to bring a brush to the loft and find more suitable sleeping arrangements for her bodyguard.
She dug into the small closet for a pair of jeans and a ribbed knit pullover, the color of an eggplant. The shirt hugged her like a second skin, accentuating the swell of her breasts and her narrow waist.
As she descended the stairs, her bare feet made no sound, giving her the opportunity to study the man pouring coffee into a mug.
He’d changed from the shorts into a pair of jeans but had yet to hide his broad shoulders under a shirt. Daylight gave his skin a golden glow. Every movement was a study in flexing muscles.
Having danced with him the previous night, Holly was fully aware of how solid he was. Still, her fingers itched to feel the warmth of his skin stretched over those taut muscles.
Her mouth watered, heat rushed up her chest into her cheeks and her core flamed with unexpected desire.
Simon chose that moment to turn. Though he wore the jeans fully zipped, the top button hadn’t been secured. To Holly, it represented full-on temptation. Add the sexy smile spreading across his face, and the man was chipping away at her resistance. “Perfect timing,” he said. “You can have the first cup while I find a shirt.”
