That is such a Cole answer that a broken sound comes out of me. It might be a laugh. It might be a sob. It is probably both.
Sloane’s voice comes through again.
“Eli has her in custody. Ambulance en route. Knife recovered from her bag too.”
The knife. The gun. Both.
My best friend came carrying every version of harm. I close my eyes.
For most of my adult life, Vanessa saying my name would have been enough to pull me back. The voice I trusted.
But behind us, sirens rise near Bluefin Marina, and Cole keeps driving, putting distance between me and the woman who loved me like a cage and called it shelter.
This time, I let her voice be only a sound. Not a summons.
Chapter 21
Kara
By the time we return to The Sandpiper, the sky has gone purple at the edges. Not sunset exactly. Later than that. The afterglow. That strange in-between hour when the day has ended but night has not fully claimed what is left.
We drove to the mainland where Cole had to have the windshield of his SUV replaced. We grabbed a bite to eat — something fast and simple — fill material.
As we arrive at The Sandpiper, I know I’ve changed. Now, I walk back into this cottage feeling safer.
Alive. Vanessa is alive. The relief of that still makes me angry. There’s a sheriff’s deputy outside her hospital room and a bullet wound in her leg.
Cole parks beneath the cottage, but he does not get out immediately. His SUV sits in the shade under the pilings, engineticking softly, headlights touching the storage door and the outdoor shower curtain that once made me jump.
He looks at me.
“You sure?”
I look through the windshield at the stairs. At the pale blue siding. At the warm porch light Sloane left on after his team cleared the place. Eli has a deputy parked two houses down. Sloane has already confirmed Vanessa came alone. Rafi is buried in digital evidence. Orlando police are inside my house, collecting proof I am not ready to imagine yet.
The Sandpiper is safe now. Or safe enough. Maybe that is all any place ever gets to be.
“I’m sure,” I say.
Cole studies my face for another second, then nods.
He gets out first, then he comes around and opens my door. His hand is waiting and I take it.
Cole unlocks the door and steps in before me. He does not make a show of checking the cottage. Sloane’s team did it before him. Still, his eyes move through the room as we enter.
Inside, the couch still has the pale blue throw blanket folded over one arm. My empty water glass is gone from the porch table. Someone moved it. Maybe kindness to keep bad memories away.
“What do you need?” Cole asks.
The question has followed me all day. At first, I did not know the answer. Now I do.
“Something stupid.”
His brows draw together. “Stupid?”
“Light. Funny. Ridiculous. Preferably involving a woman in cute pajamas making bad decisions over a man who does not deserve her.” For the first time in hours, Cole looks truly confused.
“A movie,” I clarify.
