When I pull back, my voice is rough. “Best thing I’ve seen all day.”
She laughs. “Well, you haven’t tasted it yet.”
“I wasn’t talkin’ about the food, darlin’. I was talkin’ about that smile,” I say, skimming my thumb over her lips. “But it does smell damn good in here.”
The pasta with poblano cream sauce is delicious. But sitting at the counter with Grace at my side is perfection.
“You never much cared for cookin’ before,” I say, scooping up another forkful of rigatoni. “But your cinnamon rolls were the stuff of legends. I can’t bake to save my life.”
“Any idea where the recipe is?” Grace picks up her water glass, but her hand starts to shake, rattling the ice against the sides. “Shit.”
Worry punches me in the chest hard enough, I have to force myself to breathe. “What’s wrong?” Freeing the glass from her trembling fingers, I take her hand in both of mine.
She shakes her head softly. “I…I don’t know. I spent a couple of hours drawing today. Maybe I just overdid it.”
Her skin is cool, almost clammy, but she was just holding a glass of ice water. “I think we should call Dr. VanHorn. Right now.”
“I feel fine, AJ. No headache, no vertigo. I managed ten clothespins today and balanced on my left leg for a full thirty seconds. If this doesn’t pass in an hour, then we’ll call. But for now, can we just enjoy the rest of our dinner?”
I search her gaze, caught between my own fear and her need to be trusted with her own well-being. She’s not dismissing the tremor. She’s asking for time to decide if it’s serious.
“Okay.” I nod, my jaw tight. “But if it’s not better by the time I finish the dishes?—”
“I’ll call the doctor myself.” Grace twists her hand in mine, linking our fingers and squeezing gently. “Now, tell me about your day.”
Grace
AJ stabs a fat piece of pasta and twirls it through the creamy sauce. “Harris is throwin’ his weight around. If he lets Parker off desk duty before summer, it’ll be a fuckin’ miracle. She’s the best of us, and he’s got her doin’ paperwork all day. Hardison’s miserable handlin’ a full case load without his partner. And Marvin keeps tryin’ to be ‘supportive,’ but after the shit he pulled with the chief, I ain’t buyin’ it.”
I frown and pick up my glass again. This time, my hand is steady. At my side, AJ blows out a breath, and his shoulders start to lose some of their tension.
“You outrank him, right?” I ask.
“Yeah. He’s been tryin’ for his captain’s badge since before you went missin’. But his close rate is half of what mine is. He ain’t a bad guy. Just…lazy.”
I finish the last of my pasta and push my bowl away. A shadow flickers in the back of my mind. Something I’ve forgotten but know is important. Before I can grab hold of it, it’s gone again.
“Zephyr can only find a handful of images that resemble the symbol you drew, and none of them lead anywhere. A headstone in New Mexico, a chalk doodle in a parking lot in Dallas, and an occult shop in Louisiana—but the leaf in their logo is sage, not oleander.” He wipes his lips with his napkin, turns to me, and takes both of my hands in his. “I keep comin’ back to how they picked you in the first place. They had to be watching you. Waiting until you were alone to grab you.”
A chill settles over me, sharp enough to drown out the warmth of the food in my belly and his hands on mine.
“Austin PD…they were fixated on the trafficking angle. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Far as I know, they never considered that someone wanted you specifically.”
AJ pauses, indecision in his eyes. His jaw works for a moment before he lets out a heavy breath. “I made some calls today. Your old yoga studio, the community college security center, even Stonewood Coffee. But after three years…folks remembered you, but couldn’t tell me shit about anyone hoverin’ when they shouldn’t’ve.”
The lines around his mouth tighten, and he shifts on the stool like he can’t get comfortable. “Some of your friends might know more. If you reached out…”
I twist my napkin in my lap, my palms damp. “I want to. I do, AJ. I want to know who I was, what I liked, what we talked about. But…what if they expect me to be the old Grace—the woman they remember. They’ll want to pick up where we left off.
“Or worse—they won’t want to pick up at all. What if all they see are my scars?”
My voice wavers, and I press a hand to my chest, trying to keep the fear from splitting me open. “I was so lonely. I don’t think they let me talk to anyone. Or let anyone talk to me. For three years, I wasn’t living. I was barely existing. While my friends from before…they’ve moved on. They’ve laughed and worked and read books and watched movies and gone to concerts and?—”
“Darlin’, stop.” AJ kisses me, but not even his touch can convince me everything will be okay. Not this time. “You’ve been hangin’ out with Parker, Emi, and Isabel. You hold your own with us guys too. You might not see it, but I do. You’ve found yourself these last two weeks. And the woman you are now? She’s funny and smart and brave and strong and beautiful. All you have to do is look at the group chat you have with the girls to see it. Parker says you blow it up as much as the rest of them.”
“Parker, Isabel, Emi…they only know this Grace,” I say, my voice wavering. “My friends from before…”
AJ slides off his stool and takes me in his arms. “They’ll get to know this Grace too. And if for any reason, they don’t want to put in the work? That’s their loss. Because you’re a hell of a woman, darlin’. Don’t you ever forget that.”
