And then her parents died, and her world flipped again.
That changed everything. She saw how much she'd been missing. How much she needed to live.
Buddy wasn’t living. Probably hadn’t been since his wife left him. But this case had come close to destroying his humanity.
She stood on the porch, next to Buddy, while Dawson and Jasper circled the truck.
“No footprints. Too much loose stone,” Jasper said.
Dawson crouched beside the front tire. “They hit it with a bat or pipe. All inward strikes.”
Fallon rubbed her arms against the damp chill. “Do you think whoever did this could still be watching from a distance?”
Buddy’s gaze stayed on the dark tree line. “I’d bet my life they have eyes somewhere.”
The Everglades was a sheet of black water under the moon, silent and infinite. The swamp swallowed people. The swamp kept what it wanted. And what it didn't want eventually surfaced—bloated and unrecognizable.
The porch light flickered, then died, plunging them into half-dark.
“Perfect,” Fallon muttered. “An omen.”
Buddy shouldered closer. “We’re not going to be able to stay here tonight, and I don’t think you should be alone until this is figured out.” He grabbed her waist and turned her. “Whoever’s doing this, whether it be Simon from prison, or someone I’ve pissed off and who knows this case, has connected you to me. If I thought it was safer to send you somewhere else, I would. But unfortunately, I think we’re better off together.”
“That sounds like you don’t want to be anywhere near me.” She curled her fingers around his wrists, easing his grip, and pushed his hands away. Meeting his gaze, she took a step back.
“Not true.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Things about that case affect me in the worst way. I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”
“Oh, I understand how those words on that page tore through your heart. Or what seeing that girl did you.” She placed her hand on the center of his chest. “You hold that case right here. Every piece of it. I get that. I still carry Tessa with me. And every year, I still think it should’ve been me, not her.” Tears rolled down her cheek. She dropped her hand to her side and let the tears wet her face. “I let myself purge those emotions. I have to. Or I become a hard person who no one wants to be around.”
“Are you saying that’s who I am?”
“No. Not yet,” she said softly. “I’m not upset with you because of how you responded to what feels like, and probably is, a personal attack. It scared me. I didn’t know how to help you. But what hurts are your words. ‘Send me somewhere’, and ‘unfortunately’.” She palmed his cheek. “I get this is temporary. I haven’t had a relationship that wasn’t. I also haven’t gone into one thinking this is it. This is going to be my man.” She shrugged. “I don’t live my life looking for permanence. Nothing lasts forever, and none of us is getting out of here alive. I live to honor those I’ve lost and to be the kind of person they’d be proud of. The rest is icing.” She turned and strolled toward the front door on shaky legs.
She’d always fallen hard for men. Caring about someone was the easy part. And she welcomed it. She’d been in love a couple of times. Or, at least, she thought she had. The breakups were never easy. Never fun. But she’d learned that life wasn’t always fair. It was often painful. And if you tried to avoid the things that hurt, you missed the truly good parts.
Like last night. She wouldn’t trade that for anything.
She glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll pack a bag because I know being alone would be dumb as fuck. I’m a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.”
Chapter Nine
The office building, owned by a local land and real-estate developer, had a smell all its own—old plaster and humidity, faint mildew baked into the paint, and the faint trace of furniture polish someone had used a decade ago. It was the scent of things that had survived the Florida coast a little too long.
Buddy shifted the box under his arm, felt sweat start at the back of his neck even though it wasn’t nine a.m. yet. The air inside carried the hum of window units that never quite kept up. He passed a flickering fluorescent light and caught the sound of a voice up ahead—low, familiar, full of good humor.
“Hey, Decker,” Buddy called, stepping into the light. “Heard you’re finally getting married. Congratulations.”
Decker Brown, the owner of the building, turned from his office door with a grin so bright it made his face look ten years younger. He wore a crisp shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, tie loose like he’d already survived one meeting. Truth be told, he’d survived a lot more than that, and this town, especially Fletcher and Baily, owed him a bit of gratitude for his role in taking down a crime family and securing the future of their marina and the Crab Shack.
However, Decker didn’t see it that way. No, he believed this town saved him.
“Thanks. Be on the lookout for an invite. It’s not gonna be a big wedding. Or all that formal. Just the good people of Calusa Cove at the community center.”
“Silas will love that. He says that place doesn’t get used near enough.”
“He’s been doing a potluck dinner there every other month for the last six months. Seems to be working out. We’ve gone almost every time. It’s fun. I think this next one he’s trying to get a band, but knowing him, it will be swing music.”
Buddy smiled. “Nothing wrong with that.”
