She shrugs, but it’s tight. “Maybe. I don’t know who they were. Figured just some dick Alphas spotting a single Omega and deciding to be weird about it. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Something hard settles in my chest at that. “They were watching you.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
I study the two slashed tires, then look at the wreck inside the van. “Feels like more than weird and as if they were definitely searching for something.”
Her mouth tightens. “Yeah.”
I nod once, already pulling my phone from my pocket.
Her eyes narrow. “What are you doing?”
“Organizing for a tow truck to take your van to my local mechanic, who’ll change out your tires while we go to lunch. Everything will be fine. You’ll see.” I offer her a smile.
Then she hugs herself and starts nibbling on the corner of her lower lip, while I get on the phone and speak to my buddy at the garage.
In no time, everything’s moving. I grab her surfboard from the grass and slide it into the back of the van, wedging it in so it won’t shift.
“Pack a small bag,” I tell her. “Just enough for a few days. Depends on what my guy has in stock and how fast he can get the right tires.”
“Thank you. Seriously.” She looks at me, a little softer now. “You didn’t have to help me, but you did.”
I shrug. “Didn’t feel optional.” That gets the faintest flicker of a grin.
She starts pulling clothes together, shaking sand off things, and stuffing them into a backpack. I stay out of her way, righting what I can, stacking what’s salvageable, trying not to look too hard at how careful she is with that cracked pot when she wraps it in a T-shirt and tucks it into the bag herself.
After a minute, she glances over at me. “I know you want to ask, but the plant was the first thing I got when I bought my van, and I kinda talk to it when I’m alone. So it feels mean to leave it behind.”
“No judging at all.”
“So what do you do, aside from surfing? Unless that’s your thing.”
I huff a laugh. “Right now, it’s a bit of surfing and helping out a friend of ours with on local luaus for tourists.”
Her brow lifts. “Very noble.”
“I’m basically public service.”
She snorts, then zips the bag halfway. “And before that?”
I look down at the tire for a second, then at the mess inside the van.
“Special operations. Military.”
That quiets her.
“Did jobs I can’t talk about for people who’d deny I ever did them. Was in it for years. Got out after a mission went bad and we lost someone.” I keep my voice even, though that part of my life still feels branded into me. I wasn’t in for long compared to some, but it was long enough that some nights I still get dragged back into it in my sleep. I’ve learned how to live with the ghosts, though, and how to keep moving. Having Ace and North at my side helps more than I’ll ever say out loud.
She’s just watching me.
I lean back against the van, not ready to open up about a past I’ve locked up and thrown away the key to.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.
“Yeah.” I nod once. “Me too.”
For a second, it’s just the breeze moving through the lot and the sound of traffic somewhere beyond the palms.
