Page 139 of Deep Tide

Nicole sighed. “How is Leyla doing?”

“All right.” He combed his hand through his hair again, and she felt a twinge of sympathy for him. “She’s at the hospital. No concussion, evidently, but she’s bruised up and needed some stitches in her hand. Joel’s supposed to text me when they leave.”

“He’s at home.”

Sean frowned. “Who?”

“Joel. I talked to Miranda an hour ago, and he was there at their house.”

Anger flared in Sean’s eyes. He looked at his watch again.

“I need to go,” he said. “Make sure Brady gets those pictures.”

“I will.”

He turned to leave.

“Hey, tell Leyla I hope she feels better,” Nicole called after him. “She had us all scared to death.”

•••

Leyla awoke to a soft tapping.

She blinked at the dimness. Where was she? She jolted up with a start. The room pulsated with a bluish glow, and she glanced around, panicked.

She was in her living room. Her shirt was damp, and she looked down at the empty water bottle on the cushion beside her. She’d fallen asleep curled up in her armchair watching Planet Earth on her TV.

Tap tap tap.

Shaking off the daze, she got to her feet and padded barefoot across the room, and her nerves jumped as she recognized the silhouette on the other side of the window shade. She checked the peephole to be sure, then flipped the bolt and opened the door.

Sean stood in the yellow glow of her porch light. He stepped inside without speaking. After she closed and locked the door, he wrapped his arms around her and eased her against him.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi.”

She rested her head against his chest, absorbing the solid heat of him. Sliding her arms around his waist, she inhaled the scent of his warm skin. They stood there without moving for a few long moments.

He kissed the top of her head. “I didn’t know you were back,” he said.

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “I told Joel not to call you.”

His body tensed. “Why?”

“I figured you probably had your hands full.”

He frowned down at her in the dimness, and she pulled out of his arms.

“Want some tea?” she asked, turning away.

She smoothed her hair and stepped into the kitchen, where a dim light glowed above the sink. She probably looked terrible. After a shower, she’d fallen asleep in her oldest T-shirt and softest sweatpants, and her hair was a tangled mess.

She looked at Sean over her shoulder as she grabbed the kettle and turned on the faucet. He leaned back against the counter, watching her.

“Lemon chamomile?” she asked.

He shook his head.

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