Not a smile, exactly. But what lives underneath a smile. Recognition.
"There she is," Tommy called from the booth. "The woman who's got Walsh acting like a human being. Get over here, let me buy you a drink."
"He's in fine form tonight," Claire murmured.
"When isn't he?"
They made their way through the room. Jake met them halfway, his hand finding the small of Emily's back like it belonged there.
"You made it," he said.
"Was there doubt?"
"With you? Always a little."
She should have had a comeback. Instead she just looked at him, the easy confidence, the way his eyes lost their edge when they found her, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing in the room worth seeing — and let herself feel it.
"I'm here," she said. "I'm trying."
Jake's expression softened. "I know you are."
The booth was controlled chaos. Tommy launched into a story about a bail jumper and a pet alligator before Emily had slid into her seat. Ray listened with the patience of a man who'd heard every version. Claire was already laughing, picking up the thread of comfort she'd established at their first Anchor visit.
Gator worked behind the bar, but his attention kept drifting to their table. When the first round arrived, he brought it himself instead of sending one of the servers.
"Emily." He set down her wine with a nod of acknowledgment. "Claire." A second glass, and an expression that was almost warm. "You two eating, or just drinking?"
"Is there food?" Claire asked. "I didn't see a menu."
"There's no menu. But there's food." Gator's weathered face creased slightly, the closest thing to a smile Emily had seen from him.
He disappeared back to the bar. Claire watched him go with interest.
"He's intense," she said.
"He's Gator," Tommy said, as if that explained everything.
"How long have you known him?"
“About a year.” Tommy took a long pull of his beer. "Met him when I started coming around with Jake after he got out. He doesn't warm up to people fast, but once you're in, you're in."
Claire considered this. "How did he and Jake meet?"
Tommy glanced at Jake, who gave a small nod.
"Gator was Jake's team lead," Tommy said. "During selection. Picked him up, mentored him, ran operations with him for years before he retired." He said it simply, but the meaning underneath was clear. "Everything Jake knows about being who he is, Gator taught him."
Claire absorbed this, her eyes tracking back to the bar where Gator was pouring drinks with mechanical efficiency.
"That's the Wikipedia version," she said. "What's the real story?"
Tommy laughed. "You'd have to ask Gator that. Good luck getting him to tell it."
"Maybe I will."
The intensity in her tone made Emily glance over. Claire had that look she got sometimes , curious, like she was approaching a wild animal she didn't want to spook.
Twenty minutes later, when Tommy was deep into another story and Ray had excused himself to take a call, Claire slipped away from the booth. Emily watched her cross to the bar, slide onto a stool, and lean forward to talking to Gator.
