“About us being married before,” Holt said, stepping up to hand her the bags. “It seems none of your family, except your sister know that.”
Before June could respond, Andy’s voice echoed from inside the house. “Gran! Do you have any shampoo? Mom forgot to buy a new bottle, and I’m out.”
June accepted the bags with slightly trembling hands. “Yes, look in my bathroom cabinet.”
“Thanks,” Andy called back. “And thanks for bringing me home, Director Dillinger.”
“You’re welcome, Andy,” Holt replied. “Tell Tyler I said goodnight, and I’ll pick you both up in the morning for fishing as promised.”
“Cool!” Andy’s enthusiasm was audible even from upstairs.
“Fishing?” June’s eyebrows rose despite her emotional turmoil.
“Yes,” Holt said with a slight challenge in his voice. “You’re welcome to come. I remember you used to enjoy fishing off the rocks at Sandpiper Point.”
The memory hit her unexpectedly. The lazy summer mornings when they were teenagers, sitting on the sun-warmed rocks with fishing lines trailing in the clear water, talking about everything and nothing while the world felt infinite with possibility.
“I...” June swallowed hard. “Thank you for the offer, but I can’t.”
“If you change your mind, the invitation stands,” Holt said with a casual shrug that didn’t quite hide the disappointment in his eyes. “I should get going.”
“Thank you for bringing Andy home,” June said formally. “And for the food.”
“My pleasure.” Holt paused at the top of the porch steps, his expression softening. “Willa and Carmen really are okay, June. The fire is contained now.”
The compassion in his voice caught her off guard, reminding her of why she’d fallen in love with him all those years ago. Behind the professional competence and FBI authority, he was still a man who cared deeply about protecting the people he loved.
“Thank you for letting me know,” June said quietly, relief flooding through her.
“Goodnight, June.” Their eyes met and held for a moment that stretched longer than it should have. “Despite the shock of it all, it’s been good seeing you again.”
His voice had dropped to that low, intimate tone she remembered from their most private moments, and June felt her composure crack slightly.
“Goodnight, Holt,” June managed. “And please... be careful out there.”
He gave her a tight smile and a small nod before turning and walking back to his pickup truck. June remained on the porch until his taillights disappeared around the corner, clutching the bags of food and trying to steady her racing heart.
Inside, she unpacked the containers in the kitchen, setting out the food and treats for the boys when they finished their showers. Her mind churned with the implications of Holt’s presence in Sandpiper Shores, of their unavoidable proximity, of the thousand ways this summer could go wrong.
She’d come here to rest and recover from her accident. So far, rest seemed to be the last thing she was getting.
Two hours later, Willa finally came home, looking exhausted and smelling strongly of smoke. Andy and Tyler had already gone to bed, the portable air pump for Tyler’s mattress still sitting in the living room where June had been preparing to put it away.
“Hi, Mom,” Willa said as she entered, her voice hoarse from breathing smoke. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine, sweetheart,” June replied, studying her daughter’s soot-streaked face with maternal concern. “How are you?”
“Tired,” Willa admitted, pulling off her fire department jacket and hanging it by the door. “Completely wiped out.”
“The boys are asleep,” June told her. “There’s food in the oven for you and Carmen. Speaking of which, where is your aunt?”
“Still helping Dr. Tanner at the clinic,” Willa said, then caught a whiff of herself and wrinkled her nose. “Good grief, I stink.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” June teased gently, then stepped forward to wrap her daughter in a careful hug. “I was so worried about you.”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Willa assured her, returning the embrace despite her concerns about the smoke smell. “Now you’re going to smell like a campfire too.”
“I don’t care,” June said fiercely, holding her daughter close despite the sharp pain it sent through her healing ribs. “I don’t get to hold my baby often enough.”
