His head snapped up. One pair of grief-hallowed eyesvanished, replaced by another—Lily’s. Gentle, steady green, smiling down at him from the top of the stairs. She held the mittened hand of a little girl bundled in pink, her dark curls tucked under a knit hat.
Chloe Whitmore.
His lungs cinched tight. Of all the places—of all the people—of course Caroline’s little girl would end up here, in Lily’s studio.
Mrs. Whitmore’s face softened as she spotted them. “Hello, Lily. Chloe, darling, do you remember Sheriff Callahan?”
Chloe peeked at him and nodded silently.
Rush’s grip on the railing turned punishing as the iron bit into his palms. The world narrowed to a tunnel, the edges blurring until it felt like he was back on the iced-over canal bank. His chest froze, and his breathing turned shallow and sharp. He could almost feel the water numbing his legs and torso, turning him into a deadweight as he sliced through the water to haul the little girl to the shore—alive but motherless. His stomach churned, and cold sweat broke out on his forehead, chilling him despite his warm sheepskin coat.
The rush of icy cold sharpened to a hard, electrical buzz, and for a horrifying second, Rush thought he might pass out right there on the steps. Instinct kicked in—the training drilled into him in places where panicking meant death. Anchor to the present. Catalogue. Control. Breathe.
The bite of iron under his palm, grounding him. The scent of pine resin drifting from the garlands strung along Main Street, clean and fresh. Down the street, a car door slammed, and children’s laughter from inside the studio spilled out, high and bright. He locked onto the details, forcing his mind to track them like coordinates, anything to keep from sliding back into the soundless black water.
Mrs. Whitmore led Chloe down the steps to the sidewalkuntil they were directly in front of him. She was a tiny thing, properly bundled up for the Northeast winter with a hat, a scarf tied neatly under her chin, and warm boots. All the winter gear couldn’t hide those solemn blue eyes.
It took every shred of will not to see Caroline’s eyes wide in the dark water.
“Do you remember Sheriff Callahan, darling? He was the brave man who helped you and your mommy.” Mrs. Whitmore bent over to smooth a curl back under the little girl’s hat.
The word made him stiffen before he could stop it. He cleared his throat and reached a place inside him that only years of military training and boots-on-the-ground experience could have prepared him for. What did you say to a little girl with sad blue eyes and no mother?
He focused somewhere above the little girl’s shoulder before swallowing hard and forcing himself to meet her solemn eyes. “It’s good to meet you.”
There was an awkward pause as they waited for Chloe to respond. Rush glanced at Margaret Whitmore, then Lily, finding them both focused on the little girl as if waiting for something.
There was only silence. Chloe looked down, fiddling with her scarf.
Finally, Margaret explained. “Chloe’s not quite ready to talk yet, but I know she thinks highly of you and how heroically you acted that night. Come along, darling. Grandpa is waiting with lunch.” She looked at Rush directly. “I hope to hear from you soon, Sheriff Callahan.”
Chloe glanced up at him then, and Rush caught sight of wide blue eyes and round cheeks as Mrs. Whitmore buckled her in and shut the door with a wave. The car pulled away, leaving the echo of the wordheroringing in his ears.
His vision narrowed again, and he looked up—Lily.
She stood a few feet up, green eyes steady on him, soft and unflinching at what she must have seen. The ice inside him creaked, a hairline crack reminding him he was still on solid ground, not sliding back under black water.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Instinct took over.He took the stairs two at a time and reached for Lily.
He didn’t think—he never did when it came to Lily. He bent to kiss her because words had never been his strong suit, and because maybe if he kissed her, he wouldn’t see Caroline’s eyes begging him.
Her lips parted under his like they’d been waiting, warm and yielding, unraveling the last shred of control he had. A hard, claiming kiss, meant to make him forget and to stake his place at the same time.
“Hi,” she whispered when he finally lifted his head, slightly breathless, her arms looped around his neck.
He kissed her again, quick and hungry, until the sound of giggles cut through. Lily broke away, her cheeks blooming as pink as her lips. That shy, gorgeous smile knocked the air out of him.
“Is that your boyfriend, Miss Lily?” a little boy demanded, stuffing his arms into a puffy orange coat with a disgruntled look.
Rush gave him an unrepentant grin.Sorry, boss.
“We’re good friends,” Lily said evasively, shooting him a glance. “Bash, you know Sheriff Callahan.”
“I should hope that’s your girlfriend after that kiss,” Mrs. Solano huffed, rounding the corner. “Now I know why you won’t come to bunco, Sheriff. I wouldn’t let him out of my sight, either, Lily.” She winked at Lily, tugging the boy along. “Come on, Bash. Grandma’s got to make a new plan.”
Bash side-eyed him, skirting around his body like he had cooties, before throwing his arms around Lily’s waist to hug her tightly.
