Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Fuck. I didn’t know. I scrubbed at my short hair.
Buzz. My phone vibrated its way across the table. I didn’t recognize the number, but my back prickled, and I hit Talk.
“Phillips here.”
“Cal? Rob Heinrich here, Safe Harbor chief of police. We met over the Stapleton evidence you found.”
“I remember.”
“Good, good. I’ve got a situation. Group of teens camping by the lake. Some of the group decided to dive at the old train wreck, and we’ve got reports of a missing diver. Clock’s ticking faster than I can get a rescue team together, and—”
“I’m on my way.” Already swinging into action, I quickly disconnected my electricity and water, and I was underway while Rob continued to outline the plan.
“I’ve got a few amateur divers on the way. I’m inbound too, but you’re the best.”
“I…” I opened my mouth to say I dove alone, my constant refrain. But where every second counted, did I really want to pull rank? I shook my head as my motorhome rattled down the road at speeds more suitable to Holden’s sports car. Holden. “Who do you have running command?”
“We’re shorthanded. I’m not a diver, but I’ll have to do.”
“Call Holden,” I ordered. “He can’t dive with us, but he’s got the search and rescue and prior dive experience we need. He can help get everyone organized and keep track of volunteers.”
“Not a bad idea. Got some more calls to make. I’ll see you at the lake.” Rob ended the call, and I took the curving roads as fast as I dared, a million thoughts speeding through my brain. I hadn’t had to think twice about demanding Rob call Holden in. I trusted him.
I trust him. The knowledge hit me like a boat anchor. If I could trust him with a life-or-death mission, if he was the one I wanted running my team, why couldn’t I trust him with my heart?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Holden
Some stray impulse led me to come home for lunch. Wait, that was a lie. It’d been a rare morning without meetings or classes, and I’d been utterly useless, distracted by thoughts of Cal and how we’d left things.
And maybe I’d wanted to see for myself what I’d already suspected.
Cal was gone.
Bed in his room neatly made, no trace of his clothing or belongings, and the stack of boxes of gear in the garage was also gone. Well, at least he’d likely landed himself a new RV.
Bile rose in the back of my throat. No goodbye? Nothing? Was that how little this had been worth to him?
Wait. There was a note on the fridge, held in place by two superhero magnets.
Thank you for everything. Got the new motorhome. Gonna stay a spell at Happy Village. I’m sorry.
Somehow that was worse than no goodbye. He’d teased me about love notes a few weeks ago only to leave me a goodbye worthy of a seldom-talked-to landlord. Cal was sorry? And grateful? Not enough. Not nearly enough. And certainly not the emotions I was hoping to inspire. That was the sort of note one left a distant acquaintance, not the man one…
Gah. I needed out of the house right this moment. I couldn’t stay in the oppressive quiet and stuffy emptiness a moment longer.
I drove to Blessed Bean on autopilot, barely registering the familiar sights of Safe Harbor. Good thing my usual spot was empty because I parked in a fog and rolled into Blessed Bean in one hell of a funk.
“What can I get you?” Sam looked up from wiping down the counter. The clock over his head read a little later than I’d thought, past the usual lunch rush. A few patrons were scattered among side tables, but the place was otherwise quiet. Too quiet.
“Tell me something,” I demanded. I needed noise way more than food or questionable coffee. “Anything.”
“Ah. Distraction.” Sam smiled slowly, giving me a knowing look. “What did you do to Cal?”
“Who says I did anything?” My voice came out too sharp, undoubtedly revealing how close to the truth he’d pricked.
“Holden.” Sam arched an eyebrow, sounding for all the world like he was the older one, not five years my junior. “Tact is hardly your strong suit. And you tend to make jokes all the time. Even when maybe you shouldn’t.”
“I’m perfectly serious with Cal.” Glancing down, I studied the rim of one of my wheels. At least Cal didn’t reduce me to a comedian like the rest of my friends, assigning me the same role I’d had since middle school. And it wasn’t that I hated that role. I loved my friends, loved being my natural extroverted self. But Cal gave me a chance to be more. With Cal, I could be deep, reflective, talk about what mattered. I could also be silly, but Cal seemed to know the difference. Cal took me seriously, especially in the bedroom, let me lead without question. And there was nothing jokey about my feelings for him either. “I’m serious about him too.”