She looks surprised. “You thought he’d be angry at you?”
“I was convinced all Jack’s family would blame me.”
“Aw,” she says. “I wish you’d reached out to us. My parents would love to meet you.”
“Really?” My voice is little more than a whisper.
“Of course. He talked a lot about you. They knew you must have been terribly affected by his death, and they heard you’d gone traveling. They did try to get in contact, but I think your number was out of use.”
“I ditched my phone,” I admit. “I walked away from my old life afterward. I’ve been wandering ever since.”
“Wandering?” she asks. “Or running away?” I meet her eyes, but don’t answer. Eventually her brows draw together. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s none of my business.”
“It’s okay. You’re absolutely right. I have been running. I suppose I’ve been afraid that if I stop, everything will catch up with me.” I clear my throat and look into my wine glass. “I’m not used to talking about my feelings,” I admit gruffly.
“I’m guessing you haven’t seen a therapist?”
“I did, when it first happened. The department tried to get me to stay and insisted that talking about it would help. But I just clammed up in front of a stranger. I was convinced that nobody could make me feel better about what I’d done. I wasdetermined to suffer.” I blow out a long breath. “I feel like a drama queen now.”
“Not at all. It’s called survivor’s guilt for a reason.” Her beautiful turquoise eyes are very gentle and astute. “He was your partner and your friend. He died, and you didn’t. It would have been weird if it hadn’t affected you deeply.”
I stretch out my legs, exhaling, fully emptying my lungs for what feels like the first time since the incident occurred.
“If you don’t want to talk about it now, that’s okay,” she says.
“I don’t mind, if you don’t.”
“No, I like talking about him. It keeps his memory alive.” She smiles.
“What was he like as a boy?” I ask.
She talks for a while about their childhood, standard stuff, holidays at the beach, swimming in the sea together, tales of dares to jump off rocks and races along the sand. It sounds as if he teased her a lot, but he was also protective of his baby sister. That doesn’t surprise me.
“Did he ever have a serious girlfriend?” I ask. “He never mentioned one.”
She tips her head from side to side. “He had a couple of relationships, but his work always came first, and I don’t think he met anyone who was prepared to take second place.”
“Yeah, I get that. The job was all-consuming. His death wasn’t the only reason I left.”
“You found it intense?”
“Yeah. It was great when we were in our twenties, but I’m thirty-two now.”
“Experience must count for a lot in the profession, though?”
“Yes. But your priorities change.”
“You’re looking for different things from life?”
I hesitate, watching Max throwing sticks for Ghost. “I don’t know. I’ve tried not to think about it too hard. I knew I couldn’t stay in the force. Ghost couldn’t carry on, and I didn’t have it in me to train another dog.”
“But you don’t mind training them at the Ark?”
“Ah, it’s completely different teaching dogs to sit and stay, and watching them go on to new forever homes, than it is training a dog to sniff out explosives and firearms.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
We eat our fish quietly for a while.
